Friday Happiness::
.Apple cake and bread to bake today. And knowing that at this moment, a friend is making roasted acorn squash soup for our dinner tonight.

.The Avett Brothers on the radio this morning. "Ah, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take me in."
I especially like the words "tell the ones that need to know"; doesn't that conjure up the people in your life that you love?

.Measuring everyone's height, grown-ups, too, in pencil, on our kitchen wall.

.The beautiful photos, at this joy+ride, from our neck of the woods.
When we were young, my brothers and I used to take picnics to the cemetery, and swim in the river that winds along its edges. I realize that sounds strange and morbid, now. But it didn't seem strange at all, then. It's actually one of my clearest and fondest memories.

.Way too much on our plate this weekend, but all of it promises to be fun. If you're local, come join us for the opening reception for Public Bookstore on Saturday.

Enjoy the weekend. Thanks for reading.
tt

It's too easy.

If you get to go to lunch in a place as beautiful, and pure, and perfect as Chase's Daily, and you happen to have been lucky enough to bring with you a proper camera, and you walk into the back room and see all the glorious bounty grown in a place called Freedom...
Well, it's too easy.

Here are the photos. But I really can't take credit. I give all the credit to the Chase family.

And to Tim, for being the most patient man in the world. Not only back then on that day that we went and spent two weeks grocery money on a proper camera. But also for today, when he held a box of leftover thin-crust eggplant pizza in one hand, and a highly spirited four-year-old girl in the other, while I fell in love with some cabbages.

And just in case you are all tired of the lovely pictures of Anna sniffing flowers and what not, here's the darling now, in Chase's Daily.


More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Trailer food:: Bubby's Burritos

In search of the ultimate roadside burrito, we went north, up the Hudson, to Bubby's. No Phone, no website, no nothin'.

Nothing but rice, beans, and cheese, local lettuce, tomatoes, and homemade salsa.
Served up with the perfect combination of hot and cold ingredients, rolled together in an organic flour tortilla. Made while you wait, and fresh, fresh, fresh.

I used to say that I wanted my ashes scattered at Spotty Dog Books and Ale, but I think now Tim might have to swing by the parking lot at the corner of Routes 9G and 199 in Annandale, and throw out a handful or two.
::
The details, as I know them:
Bubby's Burritos
Tuesday through Saturday 12-5
Montgomery Place parking lot/corner of Routes 9G and 199,
Annandale-on-Hudson, NY
There are a few picnic tables, and a grassy area to bring a blanket...or you can drive over to Bard College and spread a blanket there.

While you're up there, there's a nice farmstand right next to Bubby's, a museum at Bard, a pretty walk around tiny Tivoli, plus nearby are the towns of Rhinebeck, Red Hook, and (a little farther) Hudson.

Eat more burritos. Thanks for reading.
tt
ps::that's not me obviously, with the long hair and an orange hat and shirt, but she's stylin', no?

Perfect morning.

Blue skies.
Sleeping kids.
Hot tea.
Pancake batter ready.
No plans.

::

Found this food blog via Leya. Be still, my heart. The photos. Go look, and try not to gasp. Go on, try.

::

That supper recipe I was going to tell you about? Here goes.

Stonewall Kitchen Harvest::Swiss chard tart with a potato crust
I can't find a link online to their recipe, but I don't follow it closely enough anyway. So with credit, I'm going to write it out myself here.

This seems very difficult when you first read it, but once you've done it, it's really quite easy.
This is gluten-free, and it's so good, we had it two days in a row. It's the perfect thing to take on a picnic, because it's good hot, warm, or cold. And I find Swiss chard to be one of those plentiful farmer's market items that I always want to buy, but don't know quite what to do with. Well, this is it.

For each tart:
Saute 3/4 lbs chopped swiss chard, 2 thinly sliced garlic cloves in olive oil. Let cool.

Whisk 2 C ricotta, 1/2 C parmesan, 1 egg, black pepper, and fresh thyme.

Thinly slice two small, unpeeled russet potatoes. It helps to have a mandoline for this, but a proper knife would certainly do the job. It's important to have them a uniform thickness, though.

Make a "crust" by overlapping the potato slices in rings in a glass pie plate, tucking slices along the edge to make a layer that comes up the sides of the dish. Drizzle 2 T of olive oil over the potatoes, swirling the dish carefully so that the oil spreads over and under the potatoes. Sprinkle the dish with fresh thyme, black pepper, and 1/2 C parmesan.

Fold the swiss chard into the ricotta mixture, and spread evenly on top of the potato crust.

Bake for 20 minutes at 400 degrees; turn the heat down to 350, and bake for another 10 minutes, or until it is nicely golden on top and the filling is firm when touched with your fingers.

Two tips:
the parmesan cheese is so salty, that I don't use any salt in the recipe, just the pepper, thyme, etc...I used to follow their recipe closely, and it was way too salty.
I would definitely make more than one at a time. You usually end up with extra potato slices, and it's easy enough to double the filling. This is so good, that if by some chance you don't eat both tarts at the same meal, you will be happy to have leftovers.

I do hope you try this. My apologies if the recipe isn't iron-clad. But if you read it through, hopefully it will make sense to you. I promise, this is so.so.good.

I think I said that already.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Holiday

This weekend.

This weekend was::
having an "only child" for four whole days.

brothers and nephew and grandfather and son-in-law, all around the same table; a table usually surrounded by girls.

taking a road trip to Hudson, NY. Date night for three: beer and books, organic pizza, and a drive-in movie!

keeping a four-year-old up later than ever, and staying in bed in the mornings, later than ever.

making plans for small improvements around the house. Being invigorated and inspired by this . (Notice Eunju Kang's work on the walls!) It's amazing what moving a few things around the house can do. I find I look at our rooms and our "stuff" with a fresh pair of eyes.

supper at the beach club, with unexpected friends, a fire ring, and an amazing sunset. It was hard to remember the weeks on end of rain. (I'll tell you about the supper recipe, later on.)

I miss the girls so much-always more than I anticipate-but I feel rejuvenated and ready for the next few weeks of summer, when that only child turns back into the youngest of six.

Hope your weekend was peaceful and sun-filled, too. Thanks for reading.
tt

In which she finally stops talking, and just shows pictures from a good day

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Dinner to go::or, another over-long food post

Our first night at the beach on Sunday brought to mind a few lessons I learn every year, and then promptly forget. Mainly, that it's really more hassle than it's worth to do the actual grilling of food down there.

Better to bring something ready to eat, so that Tim doesn't have to manage a fire, we don't have to pack and carry the kitchen sink, and the food can be handed out to kids on a need to eat basis, rather than trying to get everyone to sit down all at once while it's hot.

We're there, after all, to let them run and play, and to have a chance ourselves to relax.

So, I've been thinking about the next meal down at the river, and I've come up with a few ideas.

Some sort of cook-ahead chicken recipe seems to be one answer, and if I buy a mix of breast pieces and drumsticks, I'll have something I can hand off to a hungry wet child with out having to even slow them down for a plate.
Erin's go-to chicken recipe sounds like the perfect thing. I used to use the Silver Palate's lemon chicken recipe, but like everything they do, it required way too many ingredients, and every pot and pan in the house. Let's make it a little easier on ourselves, why don't we?

In the Magnolia cookbook, there is a great pepper and onion relish, which I usually make to go on top of burgers, but I think would be amazing on the chicken, or any sort of sandwich. I can make that at home before we leave for the beach, too. And if there is any left over, I can attest to the fact that it makes the most amazing lunch the next day, as a filling with goat cheese in a quesadilla.

Tim's always pushing the sandwich idea, but when I picture a smushy pb&j, it just doesn't jive with my vision of the beach club dinner. But, of course, it doesn't have to be like that. With good bread and a few nice things-some turkey and apples, or salami and pickles, or mozzarella and tomato, that relish-well, sandwiches sound just about perfect. Plus, everyone can put theirs together themselves, freeing me up to sit and drink wine, so they get what they like.

Green salads don't usually go over so well at the beach: whether it's that they're too hard to dress and eat at a picnic or whatever, I've learned that they just don't get eaten. Better to make something like cucumber salad, panzanella, or even a simple mozzarella+tomato+basil. Plus, leftovers of these sorts of salads fare much better than greens.

For years, I brought tablecloths and napkins, jelly jars for wine and candles, cutting boards and thermoses full of tea. And it was lovely. But exhausting. And, I'll grudgingly admit, a bit of overkill.

I'm not ready to go totally bare bones: a tablecloth is easy enough, and covers up what might be a messy picnic table, but napkins? I think we can make an exception and use some (recycled) paper ones. And I can probably enjoy my wine out of a plastic cup just as much as a jelly jar, but I do like to have some votives on the table; once it gets dark, this is actually useful as well as pretty. And tea, although really comforting on a chilly night down at the river, is often the straw that breaks the camel (that's...ahem...me). We get enough tea at home.

But, when it comes to dessert, while cookies and watermelon, or brownies and grapes all get gobbled right up, there's one thing the kids are looking for, and one thing that can buy us that extra twenty minutes, while the grown-ups finish talking, have another beer, maybe. And that's roasted marshmallows.

I guess Tim is going to have to get up and start that fire after all.

Magnolia pepper + onion relish::
Saute 2 cups chopped mixed yellow/red/orange bell peppers and 1 1/2 cups chopped onions in 3T olive oil + 1 T butter. Toss in one clove of garlic, minced, and season with salt and pepper. Cook over medium heat for about 30 minutes, until very tender and slightly caramelized.

Nana's Agurke Salat (Danish cucumber salad)
Peel and slice cucumbers very thinly. Make a mixture of 1 C water, 1 C white vinegar and 1 t sugar. Mix well to dissolve the sugar. Add a generous amount of black pepper, and pour over the cukes. Add 1/4 C chopped fresh dill. If you need to, add equal parts water and vinegar to cover the cucumbers. The longer you can let it sit, the better it will be.
{two notes: you don't really have to peel the cucumbers if you don't want to, and, some people salt the cucumbers first, but I don't add any salt at all to this. Just lots of black pepper.}

What do you make for dinner to go? I'd love to hear your ideas/favorites/suggestions.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Dinner, Part One

I have been putting off writing a post about dinner for quite some time now. So long, that at this point, I've spent as much time thinking about why it's so difficult, as about the actual post.

We are all really busy, you and I. We have kids, we have jobs, we have homes, friends, foes, foibles. Lives.

Dinner, in any big family, is complicated. But as with just about any other subject, dinner in a big, blended family, is extra-complicated.

Perhaps it's been hard for me to tackle this subject because it cannot be separated from so many other things, which make for difficult writing at the least, and complex reading, to be sure. My most palpable fear is that what I have to say will be taken the wrong way, as some sort of manifesto, rather than what it is: simply, how we do things.

So, if you will, I proceed with part one: dinner with kids.

Yikes.

::

We have kids here every.day. But, with varying schedules, where some kids are coming home from school, going out to activities, coming back from practices, going over to other houses for the night, and stopping off briefly (I'm talking thirty minutes) for dinner, before going to the next thing, (and remember, this is just some kids, some of the time: some others are home, or coming home, or four, and waiting for someone to come home); dinner with kids could be a total crapshoot.

But, it's not.

Dinner with kids is eight plates and cups and bowls and napkins, around the table Tim's mom had in her house in Santa Cruz. It's and hour or two of prep work for thirty minutes of shouting and laughing and whining and "would you please put your bottom on your chair" and a million other things.

But it is not a crapshoot.

It is me, planning, choosing, buying, preparing, setting, cooking, drinking, (oh! did I say that out loud? but seriously, do you think I'm doing all this without a glass of wine?) and putting out, so that when the last girl is home, the last one has changed her clothes, and done her homework, and put her bike in the garage, and charged her iPod; when the last girl has brought her violin up out of the front hall to her room, filled out her reading log, cleaned up the scraps from collage-ing; when they've all at the very.last.minute come back from the neighbors' trampoline, and we've shuttled out the door any kids who are not ours (sometimes); when they've all washed their hands: we can eat.

::Tim makes pizza: we buy Whole Foods organic pizza dough for $1.49 each, white or wheat. We make our own organic tomato sauce ($1.19 a can), fresh mozzarella (really expensive, but essential), basil (fresh and free, all summer in the yard), sometimes peppers, rarely other toppings. We're light on toppings, but big dippers: hot sauce, olive oil, balsamic vinegar (sometimes all together). The crust is that good. I should really just be writing a whole pizza post.

::We make burritos: flour tortillas, black beans cooked with salsa and lime juice, brown rice, shredded cheddar (no cheese for JoJo, if you recall), hot sauce (again, always) and grape tomatoes halved with lime juice and cilantro. (I suppose it's the lazy version of fresh salsa.)

::Our girls are big salad eaters, as long as I have the right stuff. I wouldn't buy iceberg (although I love it, don't get me wrong), but I do buy romaine hearts ("the crunchy kind.") when I can't get good, fresh mixed greens from the market. They fall into two camps: ranch (one girl stands alone, here) and vinaigrette. But we've made whole meals out of "salad bar", where I put out everything from roasted chicken, shredded, and nuts, cheeses, sunflower seeds, etc...and they make their own.

I find anything that they can customize works well: salad, baked potatoes, tacos, omelets, etc...

::Pasta of course is my favorite thing to give them. I feel that if I've cooked a homemade sauce, good garlic bread, and a fresh salad, I'm pretty much done. I directly attribute this to a book I used to read to my nephew about Elmo's first sleepover, at which this was the meal that comforted him at his friend's house. At the time, I was a childless twentysomething and took this to be "what families with kids eat." I still think "they" were not far off.

::We grill often, year round: Tim grills all sorts of things: burgers and dogs (organic and nitrate free-easily found and not all that expensive), pork tenderloins and the occasional steak. Tuna steaks are a huge hit, but man, are they a budget breaker. Really good though. And make excellent tacos the next day. He's even been known to grill burritos.

He has that "man make fire" thing. You know what I'm talking about, right?

::I love to make things in casseroles: lasagna, real mac & cheese, chicken pot pie, this pasta dish with vegetables I made up one day, in Maine last summer, that I still can't believe the kids like as much as they do.

::No Knead Bread. Always.

::Milk, and then bottles and bottles of water.

Oh, is one of you still awake? I'm sorry, I know this is probably tedious. But this is exactly my point. It's endless. Tedious. Complicated.

Dinner. For eight. Over, and over again.

But you know what? It's really my most favorite thing to do.

It's not always my favorite time. I'm tired. I've just spent hours preparing what they are either complaining about, or devouring in an instant, loudly.

But they are doing it right next to their sisters. Across from their mom and their dad. Playing out the end of whatever mood they were in for the day, and trying out all sorts of ideas about themselves they can't dip their toes into anywhere else. Playing off of everyone else at that table, knowing that no matter what, we will all be sitting next to them the next time, asking them to pass the whatever, and loving them, all the same.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt

ps: breakfast, lunch, and snacks, here.

Saturday dispatch from the Gallery.

Are you the kind of person, upon leaving the farmer's market and rummaging around the basket for the bag holding a full quart of giardiniera, and finding that the helpful vendor had tied up the container in yet another bag, and twisted on one of those little twisty things, who would rip the bag right open from the side to get to the stuff as soon as possible, or who would take the time to untwist the twisty thing, thus insuring that you could safely re-twist the leftovers, assuming there were any, back into the extra plastic bag, so it wouldn't spill all over the basket in the car?

Just wondering.

::

This is a funny thing for me, to sit idle (more or less), in the gallery, for hours every once in a Saturday while. When I came in, Tim had set the computer up for me, with Pandora going. He's mentioned it before, that he's been listening to it here, but truth be told, I hadn't really focused on what he was telling me about it.

I typed in Bon Iver (yes, I'm still on that), and for the last three hours I've been listening to some of the best music I could hope to hear. Jose Gonzalez, The Shins, Iron and Wine, M. Ward, Wilco...it's kind of like having a cute boy you have a crush on making you a mixed tape.

::

I've been occupying myself by taking pictures (none of which I can post yet, as I don't have the proper cord down here at the gallery), picking at all my farmer's market loot, which I have with me because I came straight here from the market this morning, and watching YouTube clips,which literally had me in tears of laughter. (Thanks, Alexis!)

::

My stepdaughters and their friend came in and yanked me out of my Flickr-induced stupor, and were kind enough to run up the street for a cup of tea. So I'm wide awake now and watching the clock, ready to step out of the hush and still of the gallery, into the glare of finally sunlight, and start my day over again, in real life.

Hope you shed a few tears of laughter today, too.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Friday Happiness

Today, I am happy about a few things that have turned out to be as good as I had hoped:

::my week with my girls, with nothing to do.

::Jen's show up on the walls of eyebuzz.

::the latest Woody Allen, which we finally saw via Netflix, as we do everything, because going out to a movie is about as viable for us as going to the moon.

::Magnolia Bakery, origin of the cookbook from which I have been drawing for two years now. Not to mention that fantasy I have about buying her house. I need to elaborate here a bit about the genius of having a sink with soap and paper towels in the lovely eating area of an establishment that is a natural kid magnet. Thank.you.Magnolia.

::Growing up, and growing older. I thought that perhaps the scuttlebutt was true, and we would reach and pass our prime. But the secret seems to be that it only gets better. We are still as fresh and curious and eager, but now we have this extra dimension to us, and to it all.
Am I wrong about this? Am I delusional? Maybe, but I've been seeing my self for the middle-aged woman that I am, and loving it. So, leave me to my folly.

::Spring; and the life-changing and -affirming ability to leave the house without bracing oneself for chilly pain, or spending an disproportionate amount of time buttoning and zipping and wrapping up.

::Homemade pizza, of which I never tire.

::Going to bed in our little house every night.

::Every morning's first cup of tea.

Enjoy the weekend. Thanks for reading.
tt

Friday Happiness::Local edition

This is a major Friday, as it is leading into a week off from school. To that I say, without reservation: Yippee!! We all of us need a break, and with no real plans for the entire week, I think we're bound to get one.

I just wanted to point out a couple of local items:

::Sweet Grass Grill is opening! It's taken them some time longer than anticipated, but they've done a beautiful job with the space, and Robert Welsch of Westover has created some exquisite containers for the front of the restaurant. Spruces up the whole block, I daresay.

We've been waiting so long for this place to open; Tim's joking that eyebuzz is going to move a few of it's hours over to the bar there, where they'll be serving up beer on tap and seasonal, local food. At least, I think he's joking.

::Cowberry Crossing Farm, my favorite organic vendor at both indoor and outdoor farmer's markets in the area, has announced a CSA this summer. For anyone interested in taking part in a CSA, I can't think of a better place to put your support. Their website is a work-in-progress, but you can get all the information about their farm and where to find them. Their produce, meat, and eggs are of amazing variety and quality, and their business is truly family run: two charming kids are always working right next to their parents at the markets, year round.

::And speaking of markets, the indoor market at Briarcliff Manor is on tomorrow. If you haven't made it there yet, go. I swear you will not be disappointed. If nothing else, go buy some cheese!

::If you're wondering what the pictures today have to do with anything (not that my pictures usually do), I'm tickled by the contrast between my pretty little pansies set out on the bench just so, and what actually takes place around that bench on any given afternoon. It makes me think of that quote about cleaning the house while the kids are still young being like shoveling while it's still snowing. Certainly whoever that was, was winking and gesturing at me when they said it.

I hope you all enjoy the weekend!

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.

Snacks and Snacking

I can hear them coming up the street.

When their sisters were in fourth and fifth grade, we picked them up so religiously, two blocks away, as if the three of them were in danger of coming under sniper fire on their way home.

Now, the two next in line, ten and eleven, walk themselves home. Wave thank you (hopefully) to Georgia, the volleyball-player-turned-crossing-guard. Pet the black Lab at the house on the corner. Run through the hundred-yard wood that connects the block from school, to the block from home.

There is a cheeriness, a determination, about their responses when I ask "do you want me to pick you up?", that speaks volumes about the resiliency of second and third and sixth children.

They're o.k.

So, at least this year, these two are the first in line for afterschool snack.

::

I've already mentioned Emily's admirable desire for peanut butter on whole wheat English muffins. I could just stop there, now. Can you imagine a better snack?

But, she's pretty much the only one, for that.

I always have snack out and ready. (Well, truth be told, maybe not always, but usually.) Of course, fruit. I've been over that, before.

And then usually some sort of pretzels. I'm a huge pretzel fan. Tortilla chips and salsa. Dried cranberries, and maybe some walnuts, almonds, etc...

More often than not, something sweet, too. Cookies: either I've made some, or some FigNewmans, Newman's O's. Banana bread: because what is wrong with my kids that they have slowed down on the bananas? I mostly don't buy them anymore, because they usually go uneaten until they finally are not fit for anything but banana bread.

Popcorn. Lots of popcorn, because it's cheap, easy and popcorn.

We eat a lot of toast for snack, since I'm a crazy person with the No-Knead Bread. But you may have already surmised that.

But then, snack is also something different. It's 4:45 and we're waiting for Tim to come home and grill, or make pizza.

So, snack, then, is a bowl of cut up veggies, maybe even just a bag of baby-carrots poured out into a bowl, with a cup of ranch, a cup of vinaigrette (there are two distinct camps in the house, dressing wise.)

When I have fresh carrots with the tops on, and I scrub them and call out "who wants a big carrot?" you would be surprised at the enthusiasm. You'd have thunk I just offered Twizzlers. (Hi, Jo!)

In the winter, when it's dark at 4:30, and some girls are on their way out the door to gymnastics, or band practice...there is usually something warm;a little soup, some edamame, an omelet. Snack here can be supper. And supper is warm.

On summer days...well. Snack is all of the above, but also: ice pops. Now, you and I know exactly how easy it is to make an ice pop. And a good one, at that, with organic juice, or lemonade, or whatever. But thankfully, so far, the kids seem to think I've done something fabulous.

By the end of last summer I was making twenty ice pops at a time, to fill the demand. When you are handing out pink lemonade pops, you really don't want to be the one to say that you don't have enough for one more kid.

Snacks wear me out. It is the unexpected meal. The thing that rears it's head almost as soon as you have cleaned up from the last thing.

But, I find snack to be an easy way to give them something that they want, and still give them something that you want them to have.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Lunch(es)

Lunch is lovely.

Lunch is your good friend you don't see so much anymore, but still treat each other on your birthdays. Lunch is the quick bite to eat with your co-worker that runs into a second (ahem...) glass of wine. Lunch is three women who are having a "meeting" about the school fundraiser, but talk about everything but. Lunch is you and your mom, with the happiest three-year-old sitting between her two favorite women. Lunch is your husband stealing home with chocolate in a pink bag.

Lunches, are a whole other ball of wax.

Lunches are what need to be taken care of on top of everything else. Lunches are what you spend time thinking about, shopping for and preparing, with no guarantee or confidence that they are getting actually, you know, eaten. Lunches are what you buy all sorts of cute, eco-friendly paraphernalia for, only to have them left in a locker for weeks.on.end. Yuck.

Lunches are also the gesture that you make so that they feel loved. That someone at home thought about them and sent an extra sweet. Bought that special sort of roll that they like. Remembered that they like sprouts, but not lettuce. Took the time to write a little note, or draw a little picture. It's the only way we can send a bit of our t.l.c. with them for their six or so hours away from the nest. Send them off feeling like you've done all you can; now they're somebody else's problem charge.

So, I make lunches.

I always make them the evening before. I have to. I can not imagine the extra task of putting together a lunchbox on a school morning. This way, I can take a little time to think it through, balance it out, get creative.

Because I have this theory about lunches; that while they won't eat anything weird, they are more likely going to eat something that's a little different. Novelty sells.

:: always at least one fruit; whole apples work, whole pears, not as well. Cut up kiwi, apple, cantaloupe. Or berries, whole. Strawberries get slimy if you cut them, but travel nicely, just stemmed. Apple sauce cups: awesome as a standby.

:: always some pretzels, with peanut butter, even. That, in and of itself, is practically lunch. Or tortilla chips and salsa. Rice crackers.

::Dry cereal or granola. Just plain. I bothered with a little box of milk for a while, until I learned it was routinely being given away.

:: always something else fresh: either carrots, celery, peppers...with dressing for some, hummus for some, tzatziki for others...plain vinegar for one, who shall remain nameless.

:: I've tried valiantly to send soup in a thermos, but it invariably either a) leaks out all over everything before or after lunch, or b) gets eaten successfully, but left to fester into a new kind of scary in the locker for a while before being returned.

I've decided they get enough soup at home.

:: Three of them love turkey with sprouts. Actually, it's sort of become turkeywithsprouts. Its own thing. Of course, then, there are still two of them who don't, so they get just turkey, no sandwich, and a pickle, please?

:: While we eat a lot of yogurt and cheese(except for one, who "doesn't like cheese," although she will eat pizza, lasagna, grilled cheese, and mac and cheese. Hi, Jo. I know you're reading this during Research Skills right now. Get back to work!) these items do not sell in a school lunch, for whatever mysterious reason.

:: And always a sweet. I may be a food tyrant. But I'm a generous tyrant. I'm not above a cookie. Or three. Or last night's brownies, wrapped in wax paper. I am completely not above bribing the kids in my life with food.

Here's the thing: I know that my kids may be the kids who are trading the organic fruit for Doritos. I suspect that some of them pull crumpled up dollar bills from their skinny jeans and buy a soft pretzel every day. I've already heard "Mom, everyone knows what I have for my lunch," and I hear the sound of crinkly wrappers in the back seat on the way home from downtown.

But this is what I can do. I can send them out the door with a healthy, thoughtful, organic, well-balanced lunch, with a silly little note and a recycled napkin. And hope for the best.

The best is that as they grow into their older selves, they will value good, fresh, food over nasty, processed, fast food. But mostly, they will recognize that healthy food is a choice they can make for themselves, and that my tyranny stemmed from love.

I've heard the groans. But the other night at dinner, I heard this:

In a discussion of the fabulousness of the brand new middle school cafeteria offerings, someone mentioned that there is a "top your own yogurt" station. And Callie said: "I would never eat cafeteria yogurt. I don't know where the cow's been."

Call her a budding food snob if you'd like, but she's really a nice girl. She's just a nice girl who wants to know where her food comes from.

For now, it comes from her Mom. That won't always be the case.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Breakfast

I remember so well several specifics about breakfast in my parents' house:

1) on weekends, my father would stand at the peninsula in the middle of the huge kitchen and fry bacon on an avocado green electric griddle.

2) he was also an expert omelet-maker, flips and all. But...

3) he would use solidified bacon fat he stored in an old can in the fridge to make the omelets, which grossed me out immeasurably. And...

4) I ate copious amounts of Lender's Bagels.

I have such a clear picture of myself at the round oak table in that kitchen, wrapped up in a robe, eating distractedly and reading the paper. It's like I spent my whole life, right there.

Oh. Right.
I did.

I lived in that house, off and on, with my parents, and later, with out, for thirty five years.

Sometimes, when I wake up here, in this house, there is a split second before my eyes adjust that I think I am still there. I can still hear the sound the kitchen drawers made, the screech and slam of the basement door, and count the eleven stairs up to the second floor.

Now I live here, in this house, with many, many girls. You may imagine breakfast to be chaos and frenzy, but actually, I find everyone a bit subdued, mostly. And like everything else in our blended-family household, breakfast happens in shifts.

Some days, there are just five of us. Some days just three of us. Some days, eight. Those days, I try to stay in bed for as long as possible.

On school days when we have eight, there is usually a good deal of bagel toasting, toast eating, cinnamon toast making. And Emily, girl after my own heart, will have at anytime of day what I consider the perfect concoction: a whole wheat english muffin with peanut butter. Bless her.
Fruit is major in our house, morning, noon and night. So even on days when I need to skulk back to bed and let the storm blow over, I sneak downstairs and put out a bowl of cut up oranges, or cantaloupe and blueberries (amazing colors, together), or sliced grapefruit, or that mythical treat my girls always beg for: fruit salad. What, you may ask, is the difference between a bowl full of fruit and fruit salad? Well, I've asked this also, and it seems that if I spend an extra six minutes cutting things up small and mixing an extra one or two fruits in, it is transformed into fruit salad, which holds much glorious wonder for them. Go figure.

On weekends, Tim's thing is always french toast or pancakes. And he's great at it. At the gallery on Third Fridays or openings, we often have a big wooden bowl filled with sliced up french bread. We rarely go through it all, so we end up having these incredible mini-french toasts for the next couple of days.

I made the mistake, in the last three weeks, of learning to make pancakes, myself. Seriously, I had never done it before. It was always the other guy's job.

So, of course, it's not that tough, after all. And I now find myself making pancakes for weekday breakfasts more often than not. I failed miserably at one of the basic rules of domestic delegation. What the heck am I going to do next, go out and cut the grass?

Then, the storm blows over. Or, at least, blows over to another part of town, where the schools are located, and I am left with a three-year-old, a kitchen to clean, and the realization that I haven't eaten breakfast, yet.

I clean up. I set her up with something to do. And I cook for myself:

Goat cheese and arugula omelet

whisk together,
Two eggs
salt and pepper

melt,
T butter in a small pan, swirling to coat

Pour in eggs, pulling back edges to let the eggs spread thinly in the pan, 'til set.

Distribute on half,
1 oz. goat cheese
1/2 c arugula, spinach, even baby salad greens

Fold over on itself, and, if feeling courageous, flip and cook for a minute or two.
Otherwise, slide off the pan, and eat, sitting right there in the kitchen, reading a cookbook, or staring off into space. Tell three-year-old you'll be there in a minute, to add a room onto the block house for the cows.

No bacon fat required.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

Run ahead, lag behind, carry me.

A walk is never a linear progression with a three-year-old in tow. But I doubt we would stop and examine everything, even the mud, quite as much without her.

::

One thing I don't talk about here nearly as much as I think about: food. You may or may not have picked up on it, but I'm fairly obsessed. All across the spectrum: food sources, food shopping, cooking food, reading about food, the politics of food, looking at food and pictures of food. Eating food. And most of all, feeding the ones I care about.

{I'm going to interject here, that what I am not interested in, at all, is food science. By that I mean, someone telling me about how marination breaks down the whatsit in the meat, or the gluten content of such and such contradicts the starch in so in so. Bored by it. Don't care, I'll see it with my own eyes & taste it and figure it out. Leave me alone. Just saying.}

Some might say that my...ahem...fixation...on food is not healthy, as intense focus on one thing often is not. Of course, that's nonsense. It is, exactly, healthy. Everything else can wane: Social life? Pretty limited. Ability to travel widely and freely? Ditto. Energy and time to develop new hobbies? Working on it. But no. Disposable income? Fresh out.

But, around here? We eat. And well, if I may say so.

I thought I might tell you about it, a little. So tomorrow, I'm going to start in on breakfast tales, and then lunch, and then...well...you get the picture.

For now, I'm going to leave you with this:

At the end of the day, if I've fed them all well, if I've enjoyed a few moments myself where I've sat still, and savored a good something or other to eat, if they've said please and thank you, kissed me before running off, or, in the case of the man of the house, held my hand in between bites, and mmmm-ed and ahhh-ed; I'm pretty much pleased as punch.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

tt

Monday Morning :: How did that happen?

Good Monday. I really don't know how this came up so fast. Well, we did lose that hour, and we're paying for it, now.

Pitch black. Ten-year-old sent back to the drawing board, getting-up-for-school-wise. I need to go wake her, I just wanted to say good morning.

I didn't evaporate over the weekend, just took a computer break. Had lots to say about Saturday's farmer's market, Saturday's dinner, Sunday's walk. Didn't we have a snow day a week ago? Nice pictures for The View, which never got posted. Incredible work coming in for Public Bookstore. Really beautiful mini-landscapes in the gallery, from Elizabeth Solomon. But never got around to posting.

I see this as a wee bit of progress. A crash blog-diet.

I'll be back, but have to go now. I don't hear a sound from upstairs.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt

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.