Ending summer on a high note

Happiness is a Sunday just like today.

It started with early-morning grocery shopping. Don't you just love how pretty the apples and onions and zucchini look in their neat, symmetrical towers-- before the crowds of shoppers pull them down? With produce in hand, I headed home-- with fresh coffee, too-- for some chopping, dicing, roasting and dressing. An hour or so later, my kitchen was filled with the beginnings of a picnic: roasted vegetables, homemade (by Katy) garlic aioli, and a red potato and sweet sugar pea salad.

Purgatory has never been as inviting as it was this afternoon. Once the friends were assembled (and introductions made, as this was an experiment in putting several groups of friends together) we feasted. Everyone brought something. Thanks to Vickie for the most succulent grapes ever; to Ben and Chuck for the sweetest, chunky green salad-- oh! and for the wine (without which our day might have been very different); to Jay for the cheese pizza (he remembered the vegetarians!); to Anthony for the chips (not even damaged by the saddlebags); to Erica for sturdy plates and her travel kit of utensils; and to Katy for indulging my excessiveness and for whisking.

We ate well, we hiked hard, and we ate again. This was my kind of picnic. :) And it was followed by a motorcycle ride (what an amazing feeling, to watch the world pass by so quickly, and so close) and ice cream-- two of my favorite things.

When can we plan a repeat performance, friends?

Marry our daughter?

Part of me is disgusted by the issues that this raises. But another part of me thinks it's genius. If nothing else, it gets you thinking.

Of good food, good cooks, and good writing....

This week, I've been keeping myself entertained at work by discovering a new addition: food blogs. I am in love with Orangette; and also am more than a little desirous of her life. Writing a cookbook? One of my long-term dreams.

The issue with this, though, seems to stem from either being young or not believing in myself enough-- I can't tell which. I am driven, I am ambitious, and I want to change the world; but part of me is still very unsure that I have much to really contribute. Take the cookbook, for example. Yes, I love to cook. Yes, I have a passion for food and all that goes with it: shopping, chopping, cooking, baking, most importantly sharing it. There is little that warms my heart more than my father (or really ANYONE who truly appreciates good eating) mumbling a genuine this is wonderful between bites. But rarely do I create a "recipe" of my own.

Is it even possible to create entirely new things any more? Or is it as in literature-- all of the world's stories have already been told; we are simply retelling in a different manner? I mean, most chocolate cakes have the same ingredients: flour, eggs, chocolate, etc.

And in the end, the question becomes: does it matter? As Mom points out, anyone can follow a recipe-- there has to be talent behind it to make good food. So even if I base my creations on the writings of another, is the finished product still mine? If it is, that makes me a great cook (which we knew), but doesn't really speak to whether I can write a cookbook, does it?

Sara's Wedding

I hope the groomsmen all got what they wanted. Goodness knows they didn't get it from me!

Wish list

I often dream of things I'd buy, given the time and money to hunt down the perfect pieces. It occurs to me, in this dreaming, that it'd be nice to have a catalog somewhere. So that when-- inevitably-- my mother asks for the dreaded Christmas list, I'd already have it handy.

I am pining for (in no particular order):

1) Donna Karen Cashmere Mist Eau de Parfume
2) A good digital camera so that I can post photos here
3) An immersion blender (sort of a little blender on a stick, that you can put into a soup pot, etc.)
4) This
5) Hiking boots-- after this weekend, it seems I need them.
6) A cast iron skillet
7) A tart pan

List to be continued.

Of note-- the only times it is acceptable to combine my birthday and Christmas into one gift are if the gift is substantial (therefor counting as two gifts) or if we do not typically give eachother birthday gifts. Otherwise, just call it a birthday present, please and we'll not exchange holiday gifts. Can you tell we holiday babies get burned by this a lot?

:)

Conversing with Anthony

An insight that happened a few weeks ago, which has been on my mind of late.

Me: I don't like "good," I much prefer "great."

Anthony: So just good isn't enough for you?

Me: No, I guess it's not.

Anthony: Well, that doesn't explain your taste in boys.

I'm not sure that anything can explain my taste in boys. Maybe my taster is broken.