August 17, 2012

Oldie but goodie

One of our favorite wedding gifts is one we use regularly to this day: The 1990 edition of The Fannie Farmer Cookbook given to us by my Grandma Drake’s dear friend Lela Cameron. In the note that accompanied her gift, Lela wrote that it had been a classic and that she had used it as a text book in home economics classes at the University of Georgia. That note is still taped inside the front cover. It still is the classic cookbook.

When visiting my Grandma in Gastonia, NC, Lela and her husband, Cam, would often invite us for supper or Sunday dinner (lunch to you non-Southerners). As we sat eating, I would think of the stories my Mom had told me of Lela and her handsome Egyptian boyfriend whom she had dated seriously before settling down. I had so many questions but knew it was not appropriate to ask. Back to the food…I am sure the source of many of those tasty dishes was the Fannie Farmer.

My resident master chef says it reminds him of his organic chemistry textbook from college: The layout, colors, and font. I like to think of him as a chemist as he mills about in the kitchen.

Here is one of our Fannie favorites, Green Dip:

1 cup parsley

1 tablespoon chopped fresh dill

5 scallions, chopped

1/4 teaspoon Tabasco

1 1/4 cups mayonnaise

1 teaspoon curry powder

1 cup sour cream

Salt

Liquify the parsley, scallions, and 1/2 cup of the mayonnaise in a blender or food processor. Add the remaining 1/4 cup mayonnaise, the sour cream, dill, Tabasco, curry powder, and salt to taste, and chill.

We enjoy it with red and yellow bell peppers, cucumbers, and blanched green beans and broccoli.

August 16, 2012

Locks of love

As I drove into the cul-de-sac yesterday evening, I noticed our neighbor’s daughter being pushed in a Cub Mobile by a child I did not recognize. As I slowed down, said boy ran up to my car with a huge grin on his face. It was then I realized that he was MY son.

I had been preparing myself for this. I mean, Ken had texted a photo of Christian mid-haircut. Mid-chop. I was still surprised. All through dinner, we kept commenting on how different he looked, how mature he had suddenly become.

Since he was a tot, and his blond ringlets began to sprout, we’ve been reluctant to give into to more than just a trim. We relied upon Christian’s mop of toehead curls to pick him out of a crowd. This is the end of an era. Time to grow up.

Half done

The new do

August 15, 2012

Not my battle

One must choose your battles, so they say. Especially as a parent.

When a child is younger, it’s easy to encourage him to make the right choice, your choice. So sweet, so innocent.

But, as time passes, there’s a turning point when he realizes he has a say. San Francisco, July, 2008: Seven-year-old Christian had a say. With his very own spending money, he proclaimed, he would invest in whatever and however much he wanted to from the hotel vending machine. Not my battle. Go for it, son.

The current version of Christian’s bedroom is also not my battle. There are minimal standards (after all, who do you think I am ?): No dirty clothes, trash, or food. That’s it. Otherwise, it’s a man cave-in-training. His refuge.

Christian begins middle school next week. There will be battles. As parents, we must consider each one carefully. Sigh.

August 14, 2012

She’s been to the chapel!

Wow. My niece, Aliette, is a MARRIED woman. All in the blink of an eye. She grew up, went to college (and graduate school), and wed George in an intimate ceremony late last week in Scotland.

When my eldest brother, Bob, announced his wife, Marisol, was pregnant, I was over the moon. I was going to be an aunt! At seventeen! That was the coolest thing ever! Especially since I always thought one had to be old and married to become an aunt or uncle, but I didn’t. I counted down the days to her birth and played out in my mind what it would be like to meet her for the very first time, to hold her.

As the years passed, I may not have been able to share in those fleeting, fast moments as she grew into an adult as often as I would have liked to, but that’s okay. Aliette is beautiful and smart and will do well in life. I mean, she already has. I look forward to one day visting her and her love in Scotland, England, South Africa or wherever they find themselves settling in.

So, congratulations to Aliette and George! Here’s to a lifetime together, with all of its ups and downs (I can say that–I’ve logged almost twenty years in matrimony), great adventures, tasty meals, unforgettable sunsets, and peaceful reflection, when the house is finally calm after the day’s bustle, and you talk quietly and laugh at the nonsense that had muddled your routine. What counts is that you found each other and have each other. Now and forever.

My brother walking his little girl down the aisle.

(Photo courtesy of Pieter Ferns)

August 13, 2012

Coffee, Tea…Cats and Dogs!

It has rained A LOT in Charleston this summer. In fact, I think the only week without rain was in June, fortunately when our son was at Scout camp, living in a canvas tent by the marsh for six nights. Come to think of it, it was downright reasonable that week, dry, sunny, and warm (read: not hot or humid, aka paradise). Of course, that’s when we headed into the mountains, where it was warmer and more humid. Otherwise, Mother Nature unleashes her wrath upon us. Every day. Simply peruse the posts by @chswx and you’ll get my drift.

I like rain. I recall fondly as a child visiting places, along the equator, like Hong Kong, where each afternoon one would retreat back to the hotel as the heavens emptied onto the bustling streets, as if to provide a wash and rinse cycle in preparation for the nightfall and all of the life it would bring.

Weather is habit-forming. Without thinking, I now bring my trusty raincoat everywhere I go, in anticipation. When I glance out of the window, I expect to see a line of threatening clouds getting ready to get busy. The low rumbling of thunder no longer perks my ears. Like in the tropics.

Courtesy @houseofbullock

Courtesy @ABWilliams1

Courtesy Charleston-info.com

August 12, 2012

First Lunch

If you prefer not to eat all American breakfast foods, like Ken, then look upon it as a first lunch.

Here’s our first lunch on this Sunday, a twist on eggs and grits. Add sautéed summer squash, arugula, and paprika.

August 11, 2012

It’s the simple things

Try this: Make your own salad dressing. From scratch. I dare you. If you do I bet you’ll never hit the bottle again.

I’m sharing a very simple recipe courtesy of Alton Brown, one of our first forays into homemade dressings. Kick it up and add some dill like we do. Enjoy!

Veni Vedi Vinaigrette

2 ounces red wine vinegar
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
2 garlic cloves, mashed
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
3/4 cup olive oil

Place red wine vinegar, Dijon mustard, garlic and salt in a glass or metal container with a tight fitting lid and shake to combine. Add olive oil and shake vigorously, until dressing emulsifies and thickens to the consistency of cream.

Let dressing sit for 1 hour at room temperature before straining out garlic and serving. Dressing can be refrigerated, but should be brought to room temperature and shaken again before serving.

August 11, 2012

Up from These Hills

My dad is a published author. He, with my brother Mike’s editing assistance (who, by the way, is a super, smart professor at UNC-Chapel Hill), published Up from These Hills last year. And, it is available at Amazon.

Since I could not write it any better, here is how the University of Nebraska Press describes the book:

Born into a storied but impoverished family on the reservation of the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, Leonard Carson Lambert Jr.’s candid memoir is a remarkable story and an equally remarkable flouting of the stereotypes that so many tales of American Indian life have engendered.

Up from These Hills provides a grounded, yet poignant, description of what it was like to grow up during the 1930s and 1940s in the mountains of western North Carolina and on a sharecropper’s farm in eastern Tennessee. Lambert straightforwardly describes his independent, hardworking, and stubborn parents; his colorful extended family; his eighth-grade teacher, who recognized his potential and first planted the idea that he might attend college; as well as siblings, schoolmates, and others who shaped his life. He paints a vivid picture of life on the reservation and off, documenting work, family life, education, religion, and more. Up from These Hills also tells the true story of how this family rose from depression-era poverty, a story rarely told about Indian families. With its utterly unique voice, this vivid memoir evokes an unknown yet important part of the American experience, even as it reveals the realities behind Indian experience and rural poverty in the first half of the twentieth century.

May 22, 2012

Raccoons

Nothing witty or inspiring today. Instead, a certain 5th grader needed my technical assistance for a last-minute, last week-of-school assignment about raccoons. Though, I must say, in his best Boy Scout manner, he did ask politely and thanked me several times for lending my experience. I must say “thank you, thank you” Microsoft for your wonderful Word document templates (I can’t believe I just said that).

What did I learn about raccoons? They live on average no more than three years in the wild and up to twenty in captivity. I did not know that.

My only encounter with a raccoon was several years ago. One night, I had taken our beloved Golden, Pawley, outside before bedtime. As I turned back to go up the steps into the house, there stood a raccoon in our garage, its eyes glowing. I swear we held a stare for five seconds. Then I remembered something about raccoons that have rabies often approach people instead of running away in fear. Well, I ran into the house in fear, dragging the poor dog along.

I am looking forward to a summer break from the school routine.

I’ll begin to worry about the middle school years in August. Sigh…