October 16, 2009

I tried writing this on my birthday but I just couldn’t do it.  And then yesterday was two months since Dad died, and I spent it with Mom. Dad was a big kid when it came to birthdays and Christmas, especially in the presents department. In later years he kept asking for a pony or a Jaguar (no, it was not dementia, it was his sense of humor). Of course he never got either one. But he and his wife always took us out to dinner and gave me plenty of presents for my birthday. The PSU football tickets were always a highlight (even if we then lost the game). This year I was hoping to get him to Cantone’s for some really good Italian food (his favorite). Instead I went with my friend Violet, who gifted me with Mastering the Art of French Cooking (she hadn’t heard the hot-skillet story). I’m going to make something from it this weekend.

So I drove in the cold rain yesterday to see Mom. They’ve changed her medications and she actually seems a little more clear-eyed. I took her two slices of my favorite birthday cake (McCall’s Silvery White Cake with my mom’s chocolate-fudge buttercream icing). She said she’d been thinking that there should be cake, and there it was. Joe always makes me pie (his specialty) so I baked this cake with Mom in mind.

We went to one of our regular haunts—Morning Glory’s in Oxford—because I was thinking fancy soup but when we got there, a chicken and asparagus bake caught my eye and that’s what we both had. Very nice. With ricotta cheesecake for dessert. We didn’t do our drive afterwards because of the weather, but we sat and talked for a bit before I headed for home.

And when Joe came home, he brought me a very sweet message from two people I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting. Thank you both for the thoughts.

 

Headlines, October 5, 2009

I am very sorry to hear that Conde Nast is ditching Gourmet magazine. I didn’t subscribe (if I had, would it be folding now?). I never saw Cookie so I won’t miss it, and the two bride mags are long off my radar. But so many recipes, so little time . . .

I would also like to extend my condolences to the family of the woman killed by a caged bear in PA. I don’t say “pet bear” because it was a wild animal. Put a cage around it, it’s still a wild animal. Put clothes on it (the monkey on TV), it’s still a wild animal. Let it ride in the car (last year’s chimp attack), it’s still a wild animal. Even dogs, who sleep in our beds (not mine!) and eat what we eat (if we turn our backs!), still have some wild animal in them. We need to respect that.

 

Julia Child I’m Not

I’m not even Julie Powell. Tried to make the husband a little French food last night and picked up a skillet handle that had just been in a 400-degree oven. I’m now typing with only seven fingers. (The other three are still attached, just not in the mood to work.)

I did love Julie and Julia, though. Violet and I went the first week it came out. She was in the “less Julie, more Julia” camp at the end. I just enjoyed the entire experience. For me, though, what’s not to like? Cooking. Writing. Mid-life. French food. Marriage. Infertility (okay, not a joyful subject but a relatable one). Publishers. Husbands in government. More French food. I enjoyed it from beginning to end. I’d even go see it again. And now I want to read Julia Child’s autobiography even though I never warmed to her on TV—the publishers should thank Meryl Streep for doing such a wonderful job.