Sunday night::"and all was quiet and peaceful in the country."*

So much to think and tell about from our day, today.

But for now, I just wanted to stop in here and say goodnight.

We had our first fire of the season, out back, when we came home from the city tonight. It was a long, good day, although there were many tears.

I actually have decided that tears are good. It means you are feeling something intensely, good or bad. Imagine the opposite. I'll take the tears over that.

The last tears of the night were Anna's, shed as we read *The Little House * to her for the first time. I think that those are beautiful tears.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Little celebrations

Yesterday was the first day in two weeks that I dropped off a happy four-year-old, and I ran walked away from her school at last without feeling some sense of regret.
I drove myself up to the farm market at Stone Barns, and bought some eggplants and eggs and sweet potatoes. Then I sat, alone, and ate the most sublime piece of bacon and corn quiche (with a whole wheat crust-really amazing).

As I ate, I flipped through the pages of a new book which had arrived in my mailbox as I was pulling out of my drive-way.
I think that anyone who is familiar with Stephanie and Maria's work will recognize the degree to which I admire and emulate their sensibilities. There is an aura of calmness, stillness, and beauty in everything they show us, that I need and wish to find around me in my own life.

Needless to say I enjoyed my lunch, and the book, very much. It felt like a little celebration of Anna's gentle separation that afternoon, of the gradual but near complete transition into a new school year and my favorite season, and of having arrived, perhaps, at a new place of my own.

And then I went home and did some laundry.

::

My friend Jen has a new show opening tomorrow, one that I know she's been looking forward to ,and which will be an inspired collaboration of two very talented artists. And this just makes me happy!

::

I hope you all find a little something to celebrate today. Thanks for reading.
tt

In which I make up a post as an excuse to use this picture of pears.

I absolutely love cold-weather cooking, and I've been immersing myself in doing just that lately.
The girls held a tag sale on Saturday, and while I wasn't (and didn't want to be) involved, I obviously had to stick close by and monitor the traffic situation while they were out in the driveway. I basically wore a path between the kitchen and the front door all day.

I can't say I minded one bit.

One of the things I made was a roast chicken, for the sole purpose of making stock. This is one of the last frontiers for me (the other one being homemade pasta), something that not only seemed daunting and involved, but unnecessary. Surely, someone else can do this better? (I feel this way, by the way, about most baked goods more elaborate than cookies and brownies.)

I couldn't have been more wrong. First off, what's the easiest thing in the world to make? A roast chicken. Secondly, the next easiest thing to make is chicken stock.

I've been using a version of Ina Garten's recipe for chicken + croutons; I slice up some onions and toss them with olive oil, and then roast a chicken (or two) over them, simply stuffed with a cut lemon and some thyme or rosemary.

Well, the logical next step, once the chicken is carved, is to put the...um...carcass (sorry to my vegetarian friends. Is this indelicate?)in a pot with the onions, cover it all with water, and get it cooking for a good long while. Then strain it well, and there you have it.

The term liquid gold comes to mind every time I think about this, but I do feel like a bit of a dork saying that out loud.

Anyway, I'm sure I don't have to tell any of you, any of this. I imagine you've been doing this for years (and making fresh pasta, to boot).

But, while I'm sharing, I've been staring at this cookbook , A Platter of Figs, for almost two weeks now, and I've decided that I'm not bringing it back to the library yet; that online renewal thing is my friend.

I'd tell you to "check it out", but that would be a bad pun, huh?

I'd love to hear what you're cooking these days.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Friday Happiness

Welcome, Friday. Weren't you just here? Wasn't that yesterday?

::

It's a little grey and rainy today, and thank goodness for that. I need a day where it is less compelling to take a walk, than it is to fold the laundry.

::

I have two books on my table to devour today:

My fellow Tarrytown mom, Lynda Fassa's second book: Green Kids, Sage Families. This is a thought-provoking, invaluable and entertaining guide to all the small changes we can make to raise healthy, happy kids. There is so much enlightening and important information in this book, and at the same time it is down to earth, and real-life inspiring.

Lines and Shapes journal FEAST: this is a small jewel of a book, with evocative pictures and simple drawings. It moves me. I hold it like a bird. I may sleep with it under my pillow.

::

I am in thrall to the trees. I am in love with dogwood. I am mesmerized by the redbud. I am inebriated with lilac.

::

I am counting the hours until the first Stone Barns Farm Market of the season, today.

::

I don't think the laundry stands a chance, after all.
Enjoy the weekend! Thanks for reading.
tt

Book Club Cooking

Tim and I are on a big push to finish our book club book. Especially high stakes this time, as we picked the book; Rabbit Run. We are notoriously bad book club book finishers. But I think we've got this one in the sack, so to speak.

We've been sharing one copy for the last couple of weeks. I know, I know. But we honestly couldn't get a copy from the libraries (we tried several), or the used bookstore, and ended up buying it new, and it seemed frivolous to buy two. So.

In the meantime, the real point of book club looms large for me: the eating and drinking of good food and wine, and having amazing conversations with all the ridiculously smart people in our book club. They're really something. And they don't even make you feel badly when you can't keep up. Or, ahem...pipe down. Well. Anyway.

Everyone brings something to the table, literally and figuratively.

As we tend toward vegetarian at book club, I've pulled out of my recipe stash Carrot Dill Soup.
This is one of the first things I ever made, back when I first got my hands on my own kitchen, and joined a mail-order cook-book-of-the-month club. When my father, still reeling from college tuition bills, caught wind of that, he asked me if I was going to "get a job, or just stay home and cook."

I knew what the right answer was back then, but we both, my dad and I, have come a long way since. I now essentially do the latter, and no one is a bigger fan of my soup than my dad.

I used to follow the recipe from The New Basics like science lab instructions, but now I rarely follow much of anything. I started switching in vegetable broth for chicken broth a few years ago, as it seemed so unnecessary-almost an affront to the carrots. And those Silver Palate girls always had to complicate everything. Creme Fraiche? I'm still sketchy on what exactly that is.

So here's my idea of carrot soup: veggie, organic, fresh and easy. Even easier if you buy a couple bags of those baby carrots. Also, I don't have a blender around anymore, but I have one of those hand blenders, which you just plunge right into the pot and puree everything right then and there. Eliminates all sorts of issues.

Carrot Dill Soup

::saute in 1/2 stick of melted butter, 1 chopped onion, until wilted
::add 2 lbs carrots (either baby or diced), 2 celery stalks + leaves, chopped, 1/4 c fresh dill
::add in 8 cups of vegetable broth
::salt + pepper to taste, pinch of cayenne pepper (don't skip this!)

::bring to a boil, reduce heat and cover, cook for 40 minutes.
::transfer to a blender, or, if you have one, definitely use one of those hand blender things, to puree the soup to a texture that pleases you.
::check for salt + pepper, and sprinkle with a little more fresh dill, to serve.

I hope book club enjoys this as much as I enjoy them. And if you're reading, Dad, I'll save some for you.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Bruised Apple

Go. Here.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt

Tuesday

I've found an excellent use for all of this bread I'm baking. Because the truth is, even with all the mouths we have to feed around here, there's only so much toast you can force upon them eat. I took a wayward loaf and made croutons last night.

Should I tell you how to make croutons, or is that something everyone knows? I'm not sure.

Cut the bread up, whatever size looks edible to you. Spread it on a baking sheet. Drizzle lots of good olive oil on top. Be generous with kosher salt and ground pepper. If you've got your hands messy already, mince some garlic and sprinkle that around. Otherwise, go with garlic powder (but not garlic salt.) Toss it all around, and bake at 375 or so until you've got nicely browned, cracklin' good croutons.

Just try to wait for a salad to come along. Or carve up a roasted chicken and serve it over these, with the juices poured on top, a la Ina. Crazy good. They can be sealed up in a ziploc and saved for a while. (Good luck with that.)

The girls actually asked if they could have a bowl of croutons for dessert. I'm guessing that level of intensity won't hold for long, but it did make me feel justified for being so obsessed with the No-Knead Bread.

I know I'm due for a dinner post, but frankly, the subject overwhelms me. So I'm thinking I'm going to approach it using the platitude from Anne Lamott. I'm going to take it bird by bird.

My older brother was trying to get a report on birds written that he'd had three months to write, which was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother's shoulder, and said, "Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird."

Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

Soon.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt

ps::I always loved a line from Operating Instructions, something about how after she had her baby, Sam, she would lie down on the bed next to him, and her tummy would lie next to her, like an obedient puppy. Tell me about it.

Friday Happiness + a gratutious self-portrait

I can not get enough of::

Anna's learning the alphabet: I've seen this all before, and yet am always in awe of a human learning something so big, so naturally. I've been trying to learn French and am an idiot. I'm sure Anna could speak several languages by now, if she just had parents who were capable.

Wraps: I am so trying not to gorge myself on bagels and brioche and homemade bread. My most dear friend brought me lunch last weekend at the gallery, and a lightbulb popped on: yes! flatbread, protein, greens! Right on.

The Library: when I'm done checking out movies and novels and cookbooks and kids books, and they hand me the "receipt", I get so embarrassed because with.out.fail. I reach for a pen to sign. Oh, right. Free. Honor system. Got it.

Online photo inspiration: I'm a novice who can not get enough of Flikr, This Joy+Ride, and a million other daily shots of visual adrenaline. I know I am not there, but they show me where I want to go.

Writing real letters: My girls spend hours a week writing to my parents, sequestered for the winter in Florida. Typed letters, hand written letters, pictures drawn, love notes scratched on bits and pieces of paper. For kids raised with computers, they have not lost the art of correspondence. Now, if their mother could just get to the post office...

This weekend: not much planned. Exactly the sort of weekend I like best.

Enjoy your weekend, too. Thanks for reading.

tt

ps: that's me with my new haircut. Hence the self-exposure. Bonjour.

Friday Happiness :: Thirteen things

I'm loving today:

::sun streaming in the windows.

::the dog we're babysitting for the week, sleeping at my feet now.

::sneaking pink and red m&ms from the girls valentines.

::this movie, especially this, and the last four minutes.

::feeling well rested for the first time in weeks.

::listening to Al Green non-stop. All of it the same, all of it great.

::my first ever homemade biscotti, from here, a success.

::little encaustic paintings from tangled sky studio; find them here.

::friends who give wine as payment for babysitting a dog.

::books from the library; this one, The Houses of Greenwich Village, and this one about Georgia Keeffe's cutivated persona in photographs. There's a picture of her at thirty, that I just can't stop looking at.

::sneak peeks at design*sponge. Maybe just a little bit addicted to this, actually.

::little girls (not mine!) in coats and party dresses, playing in the park outside my window.

::loving that spring is coming. Soon-ish.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt

If you never leave your house,

and you don't watch t.v., don't get The Times delivered, and you've been replaying the same cd in the kitchen for weeks...

you're going to miss out on some information. Just a word to the wise.

John Updike, for anyone else who's had their head buried in the sand, died on Tuesday.

I remember the exact place and time in which I first read Couples.

I remember citing my having read Couples as evidence of my not being ignorant of the ways of the world. (JG Melon, 1991, Clare.)

I was really, very ignorant of the ways of the world.

I wish I could claim to be much better, now. But apparently, not.

I'm going to get The Times delivered. Really soon.

Two in one day...but I had to say something. Thanks for reading.

tt

Monday Morning :: Random bits and pieces

::Coughs and sore throats all around here, today. A little lemon ginger concoction is just the thing.

::And some beans simmering, already, to make this incredibly comforting white bean gratin, from Alice Waters.

::A whole stack of New York and The New Yorker magazines to get through, from Tim's mom. We've never even looked into getting our own subscription. She sends them to us, without fail, when she's done. Complete with little sticky papers attached about which articles were most interesting, or some small note so we don't miss something good. It's like having our own reader's guide. We think it's hilarious to read similar pieces in each magazine and then trade; always two completely different takes on the same topic.

::We're two thirds of the way through the Three Colors trilogy, and I have to say, I'm a little baffled by White. I've got great hopes for Red, though. Blue was slow, but engrossing, mostly because I could watch Juliette Binoche read the phone book for two hours. In French.

::Next Friday, if someone would remind me why a sleepover party for ten year old girls is a good idea, I'd appreciate it.

And now, I have to get the remaining healthy child off to nursery school. Tim and I had promised each other to walk together every Monday-the gallery is closed and the kids, in theory, are all in school. I don't see that happening, now. It's so hard to keep these little rituals going in the middle of life's swirling business. But I think it's worth trying.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Friday Happiness :: cute-factor warning

Last of these pictures, as promised. One reason I kept going with them, was that Anna got into it and "helped" me arrange the shot every day. (If you were thinking it was spontaneous: no, that's not where we keep the pomegranates usually.) On scout's honor, this one is all hers. Her idea, her prop styling. It's so good for a three year old to have a marketable skill, I think.

We bought this mouse-doll in Nantucket last spring. I say "we", because I mostly fell in love with the little corduroy jumper, and pretty much insisted on buying it for Anna, and then named it Theo, which she could never remember. People would bend down and say "oh, what a cute dolly. What's her name?" and Anna would pause and look up quizzically and say "what'd you name her, again Mommy?"

I even posed her for a photo-shoot, to send to all the relatives. By her, I mean Anna, but Theo is prominently featured. I imagined them saying "Oh, look at what good taste in toys TaraAnna has!"

So, Theo eventually went the way of many toys, and spent a long summer and fall in the backpack we keep in the car for boredom emergencies.

And then, one of Anna's sisters bought her a used copy of Chrysanthemum for Christmas, and she has decided that Theo is, in fact, Chrysanthemum, and thus, should be lavished with affection.

So, Theo and I are having our day.

Enjoy the long, cold weekend ahead of us. Cook soup. Cuddle up.

More, someday. Thanks for reading.

tt

edited note: Anna saw this after I had posted it, and said "oh, look! Me and Theo." Go figure.

Kismet

Tim and I both had Peanuts Christmas tree ornaments when we were young. I'm the sort to draw much significance from such a thing.

We grew up very far apart-geographically and culturally-and so small coincidences like that make me wonder. For instance, there's a possibility that we were both in Hawaii in 1978, at the same time, under very different circumstances.

Anyway...

I'm feeling marginally better, but I missed book club last night, and I really hate that. Not only did I love our book this time, and really wanted to hear what all the very smart people in our book club had to say about it, but the meetings are the best. Grown-ups I know and like, talking about all sorts of interesting things, with good food, wine, and I don't even need to get a babysitter.

Instead, we stayed up way too late for a Wednesday, watching just the worst movie. Stupid. Bad. And not just bad, but also disturbing-images of awful things, which the director saw fit to keep flashing back to. No mas.

From now on, I am:

a)not watching movies on Wednesday nights when we should be in bed, or at least, at book club

b)sticking to movies that end with either a wedding or a baby. No torture scenes. No serial killers. No Al Pacino.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go watch the Charlie Brown Christmas special. I think Lucy and Schroeder end up together in this one.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt

p.s. If you've read Half of a Yellow Sun, or even if you haven't, this thoughtful blogger also has a online book club which has great discussions of all sorts of compelling reads. You can check it out here.

A small, deeply disturbed following.

I have to confess that I have never read M.F.K. Fisher. Not a word. I have always meant to, but really, never come close. Don't have a book on my shelf, waiting with the others. Haven't gotten one out from the library and left it untouched until the due date. Nothing.

I don't know why, and I don't know why I think it matters, other than that I love food, I love writing, I love true stories about people and love and life, so this seems like something lacking in my literary experience. Even, lacking in me.

But, I've read every word that Laurie Colwin ever wrote.

If you've read-or even think you've heard of-Laurie Colwin, then we can just frown, nod, and shake our heads in unison. You know what I mean. You and I are among the small, deeply disturbed followers* of a great writer, great food writer, and all around lovely human being, who died way before what anyone would consider her time.

If you've never even heard of her, then please look her up and read one of her books. They are, honestly, all the same to some degree. The same character, wrestling with similarly domestic crises of heart and home. Big, thoughtful heart, and comfortable, but often stilted home.

I say this with all due respect and admiration. Because that is what Laurie Colwin engenders: respect, admiration, loyalty, and deep affection. Both for her characters- flawed as they may be- and herself. She makes you feel that she is writing just for you, giving you kindly but unflinching insights into people you might know, and sometimes, even, yourself.

And her food writing (two volumes of collected essays and pieces written for magazines) elevates to an art form cooking that has perhaps fallen out of fashion in these days of flashy, flash in the pan, celebrity chef vanity books. Food that you and I actually can live with, can cook for our families and our friends, and build a community of love and comfort by sharing-simply-a meal.

Sadly, the lexicon of Laurie Colwin is finite. Some of my favorites: Goodbye Without Leaving. A Big Storm Knocked It Over. Shine On, Bright and Dangerous Object. And, most of all, Family Happiness. I found several at a used book store in Connecticut over Thanksgiving weekend (I once owned all of them but have pressed them onto so many friends over the years that I wound up without any) and bought every one they had there.

So, I'm starting over. I find that I'm such a different person than when I first read them-eighteen years ago!- and so I read them differently. But that somehow, they've grown with me. When I'm done with them this time, I'll need to move on again.

Sounds like a good hint for a Christmas present. Some M.F.K. Fisher would be perfect right about now.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt

*Bonus points if you recognize this quote from William Hurt, in The Big Chill.

Friday Happiness :: Home Edition

I am off this morning to visit friends; a friend of mine, and of the little blue-eyed one, who most often is dragged on whatever errand or mission her parents and sisters deem important.

I am lighthearted when I read the excerpts from this favorite book, quoted on this wonderful blog.

I am anticipating receiving what will be my new kitchen curtains from Denmark.

I am loving the number of members of the household who can't keep their hands off our piano.

I can not wait to watch this movie tonight, whil'st the man is off playing poker. The girls will most likely be watching this. (Don't judge until you're alone with five pre-teens on a Friday night!)

I love how Portland, Oregon and Portland, Maine seem to be twin portals of artistic, creative goodness.

I am inspired by the spare, natural holiday decorations in this month's Country Home magazine; a refreshing change from the usual over-the-top kitch and whimsy that's put out there this time of year.

And it being Friday, I spent some of my morning sitting in the car, in the driveway, in tears, listening to the end of today's edition of StoryCorps on NPR.

Happy Friday. Thanks for reading.

tt

Reading material

The stack of things waiting to be read is growing. The girls and I stopped into The Village Bookstore on Saturday to put out new gallery cards, and, as usual, did not leave empty handed. It is such a fine book shop. To go in there is like visiting with your kindest, most well read relatives.

On my reading list:

1) The book that I'm supposed to have read by Wednesday for book club, although I'm sure we will barely move past election coverage long enough to discuss the book, so that may buy me extra time. I'm really interested in this book but the last few weeks have not been so good for me, reading-wise.

2) The vintage copy of Franny & Zooey that my brother gave me this summer. (I've skimmed through and re-read a few sections, but want to go back and do it right.)

3) The new Julia Glass book, just out and had to be bought in hardcover, because I couldn't wait. Although, that said, I also don't want to start it, because then I will read it, and it will be over, and I will have to wait until she writes another one. I love her writing that much.

4) This new cookbook by Barbara Scott-Goodman which is so cozy, warm and beautiful it makes me look forward to the transition from fall to winter.

I am also in love with the new online issue of This Joy + Ride, for the inspiration and the mesmerizing photographs. I look at all four issues as a meditation on stillness and beauty. It makes me long to take better photographs, so I could capture even a slight sense of the perfection I see in nature.

Hoping to find a little stillness and beauty today. Thanks for reading.

tt