It's a Good Day

The Supreme Court didn't take us as far as we needed to go, but we're a whole lot farther along the road than we were! 

These were victories not just for those seeking same sex marriage rights, but for generations to come. Every step we take towards all people being considered truly equal is a step toward the country we can be.

50% There!

It's a very good day...can we go for a great one?!

http://projects.nytimes.com/live-dashboard/2013-06-26-supreme-court-gay-marriage

Make It So!

Here's hoping that today this country takes a huge step in the direction of true civil rights and equality....c'mon Supreme Court--you can do the right thing!

Garlic Scape Pesto

I've been asked to provide a recipe for this ambrosia. Here's the thing....I don't really follow a recipe. I just start combining ingredients until Linda & I declare it perfect. If one goes poking about on the internet, one will find multiple renditions, some with pine nuts, some with almonds, walnuts or pistachios. There are those folks who miss the point of it being Garlic Scape pesto and insist on using basil. Don't get me wrong, I looooove basil, but if I want basil in my pesto, I won't waste those fleeting bright green curly gems on it. The point is, there are many variations on the theme, but I'll go ahead and get you started:

10 garlic scapes, chopped into 1/2"--1" pieces (use all of the scape, every bit)
1/2 cup grated Parmesan (freshly grated, not the dry powder stuff that tastes so good on spaghetti)
1/4 cup pine nuts
1/2-3/4 cup olive oil (choose an olive oil you would use to dress a salad)
Salt to taste

Put the scapes into your food processer & process until they are very finally chopped & starting to break down. 

Add some of your olive oil,. process for about 20 seconds.

Add the parmesan and some of the olive oil, process for about 15 seconds. Scrape the bowl, process a few more seconds.

Add the pine nuts & some of the olive oil; process at leats 30 seconds, even a whole minute, until it's looking kind of creamy, no obvious chunks of cheese or pine nuts. The pesto will definitely have a coarse texture, but you don't want to be chewing anything. 

Taste it....adjust as desired. Some people add a squeeze of lemon (I don't). Add your salt to taste. If it's too chunky, turn on the processor, add more olive oil through the chute, process some more. If it's too biting, try adding a few more pine nuts and a little cheese. It will mellow slightly after a day in the fridge, so keep that in mind. The key is to taste as you go along until it's the perfect-for-you flavor & texture (okay, yes, I'm also one of those people who sits down to Thanksgiving dinner no longer hungry because I've been tasting and adjusting all day--especially the stuffing; I could be a professional stuffing tester!). When it's done, serve with a rustic bread or crackers, toss with pasta, add to soup, eat it out of the bowl. It does freeze well (okay, I know it freezes for a few days....only once has it survived uneaten in the freezer for a whole month--and it was delicious; I usually pull it out of the freezer looonnngg before that. Have we ever discussed my instant gratification tendencies?). 

Bon appetit!

WARNING: The author of this blog is in no way responsible for any reader's subsequent addiction to Garlic Scape Pesto. She has considered creating an appropriate 12 step program for it, but is currently unwilling to abandon the green demon.

Time in the Country

I've never been a city person. The year I joined Linda down in Baltimore was a tough one, and I'll never forget coming off the NYS Thruway at exit 21 and bursting into tears at the glorious site of the Catskill Mountains, so sharp and clear on a Winter's day. I hadn't realized how homesick I was until then. My soul needs trees and green, birds and open spaces, sunset over the mountains and early mornings when the air itself is sun-promising pink. 

So I get a kick out of those days that really personify and embrace the joys of a semi-rural life. Last weekend was kind of like that. Friday we braved pouring rain to go to the Country Living (magazine's) Fair:

Despite the rain, there was a good crowd, and lots of eye candy:

We lusted after this potting bench....this was our style more than anything else we saw.

Bad photo, but behind those flowers is a lamp made of small lights in a woven burlap net. Beautiful!

We ended with lunch....pancakes! Sadly, we didn't see the Beekman Boys; they were there the next day. The rain finally sent us home before we'd seen everything. It was fun to check it out, but I confess we probably wouldn't go again (unless we win Powerball, maybe!).

Saturdays are Farm Market day, followed often by a visit to Eger Bros., one of our favorite farm stands; they don't do the market. Eger's had sweet, luscious, perfect.....

We have nearly 15 quarts tucked in the freezer (thanks, Linda!!) and have been enjoying every bite.

And the surprise at the farm market was garlic scapes! There are plenty of things one can do with these intensely flavorful garlic tops, but for me, there's only one way to use them:

Last year, every time I made garlic scape pesto, I would put some in the freezer. The next day, I would pull it back out of the freezer and eat it. the goal this year is to sock away one cup every week and not pull any back out until Fall. It's highly addictive, so it's a challenge. If you like garlic, you'll love this: ambrosia made with scapes, parmesan, pine nuts, olive oil & salt. Try it!

And Sunday, we planted. There are still a few dozen plants left to go, but at long last all the veggies we bought as seedlings are planted, and we've moved on to flowers! Rain is coming again, at least 2" they say, but by Sunday, maybe we can get a few more square feet of porch back.  

Wishing you the peace and beauty of country living, no matter where you are!

Happy Birthday, Mom

Today my mother would be 72 years old. She wouldn't have been happy about that; she wasn't one for aging gracefully. Maybe that's a good thing; as Dylan Thomas urged us:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

She raged until cancer, not age, had the last word.

I sometimes envy those people, like Linda, whose mother-daughter relationships were uncomplicated love stories. That wasn't my experience. But I miss Mom anyway. She had a wicked, sometimes bawdy sense of humor, was smart, perceptive, and eventually--though far too late to repair all the damage she did to her kids--got past enough of her own baggage to be a more loving mother than she was most of our lives. She was a fiercely loyal friend to those who earned that friendship, a trait we share. Alas, we also share the capacity to rip out of our lives those who hurt us or hurt someone we love, with never a second glance. I have her to blame for my explosive temper, but I think & hope I've learned a little tact, diplomacy and the ability to look at both sides and admit when I'm wrong; some days I smile to myself imagining her reaction when I am having to be my professional self, the one who says what she should and not what she's thinking; Mom is somewhere laughing so hard she can't breathe! 

She was...theatrical (okay, yeah, she was a drama queen, but also once longed to be in the theatre); one day I looked at a faded yellow newspaper clipping she'd saved all her life and wept to see her young, lovely, hopeful face as she appeared in a high school play, listing her 'stage name'--Terry O'Banyon, imagining her in a 1950s teenager's bedroom, trying on different names to find the one that encompassed her desires. Sometimes I ache imagining all the dreams she had that never quite happened, and hope she was okay with that in her later years.

Three years ago I wrote about her here and I still miss her now as I did then. I think she'd have loved coming to see us (if we could have gotten her to do it!), would have savored the contrast of the mountains to the flat coastal city she and my father retired to. The critters would have made her smile, and maybe she too would have felt some of the peace that occasionally drifts across the porch with scent of lilac and honeysuckle. If I could give her a birthday present now, that's what it would be: a sweet gentle peace, soft as a warm Spring evening, abundant as a Summer Farm Market, bright as a Catskill Mountain Fall, and as warmly comforting as a firelit Winter night; a peace to fill her soul and surpass her long-ago dreams. And I say a prayer that she's already found it...

Peace and Beltane

I haven't posted in awhile. I couldn't...somehow it seemed...off...to prattle on while people were suffering and grieving. To those who asked, my son in Boston is fine; he wasn't near the bombing, although several of his staff people missed being there by mere minutes. He was very good about communicating with us immediately. I hope all of your loved ones are safe, and am praying for those who have endured fear and loss and sorrow.

With last night's setting sun, Beltane arrived (for those who follow a secular calendar, anyway. I know lunar Beltane has already passed). For reasons I didn't understand then, even as a child May 1st was one of my most favorite days. I would wake excited, wanting to hug trees, smell flowers and walk in the woods. It was decades before I knew it was Beltane, and that what I felt was the pulse of the Earth, the heartbeat of a bride on her wedding day, the rush of passion's adrenaline at a time when Nature is bursting with love and lust. On assorted Beltanes, I've danced around the Maypole, leapt over small bonfires, walked through the woods, made love, spent the day in serene contemplation. 

Usually I take the day off from work, but this year can't manage the time, so was blessed last evening to have welcomed Beltane filled with a joyful peace. Linda & I had a late dinner out on the porch as the sun was caressing the mountains and the light was turning golden. The quince was bursting with lush red blooms,

seducing bumblebees who were helpless to resist. Lacy dangling flowers swayed like earrings from the maple trees' branches. Peepers and tree frogs and birds sang their courting songs. We talked of small things, falling silent to listen and watch. A bluebird perched atop one of our new bluebird houses, but wasn't ready to commit. The breeze tickled the wind chimes and stroked the virginal white flowers of the old pear trees. It was a perfect moment....but sadly the sun tucked behind the mountains, the emerald grass ceased to glow, and it was time to come in.

This is such an exquisite time of year; is it more so because we know how fleeting it is? Each year I bemoan how quickly Autumn gives way to Winter, but Spring, that moment of trembling breath and perfect promise, leaves so much faster. The hens don't make their way to the coop until nearly 7:30 now. Already the forsythia--Nature's answer to the smiley face--is maturing to a more staid leafy green. The daffodils are like worn out ballerinas, just too tired to go on. There's much to look forward to....our greens and peas are giddily growing before our eyes. 

The Marshall strawberries are thriving

and will be moved to this year's home as soon as the danger of frost is past. We received our other shipment of 200 strawberries, and Linda's elderberries that I gave her for Christmas should be here any day now. And we have our first garlic growing throw the straw! 

We're looking forward to Catskill Native Nursery's Wildflower Festival and Tomatothon, the Country Living Fair, and my Summer Fridays off. But today I'm grateful for that intake of breath, this moment of perfect peace and beauty when we can tell ourselves the world is innocent and untouched, a gentle and loving place to be. 

Wishing all of you simple joy and peace. Blessed Beltane!