Good and Plenty

On the 7th day before Halloween, my True Ghoul gave to me...pumpkins, squash and gourds a-plenty.

Moonshine

On the 8th day before Halloween, my True Ghoul gave to me...a moon so bright, so full, so spoooo-oo-ky.

The Perfect Moonshine

"I see the moon and the moon sees me. I love the moon and the moon loves me."

Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown

Oh, What a Beautiful Morning!

 

This one's for the miners and rescue team in Chile....and for all the women, men and children affected by breast cancer. This is the beauty of a new day, in all its pinkness... 

Peconic Bay at Sunrise

A Spot of My Own

Everyone needs a spot to call "mine"...a refuge. A place to regroup and reflect. Shelter Island has always lived up to its name...a bucolic haven for anyone who steps ashore. While a third of Shelter Island may be seniors, another third is a wildlife refuge. The other third...summer people. 'Nuf said about them.

To relieve stress and clear my head, I have two different walks. One is along a beach at the end of Bootleggers Alley shown above. The other is along a dirt road called The Serpentine. It meanders along the bluff that connects my parent's home to the beach where I hung out as a teen. The view is breath-taking.

These are my "go-to" spots where I can laugh, cry, talk to myself or most often, just walk and absorb the incredible beauty here. I love the sea and know that I have said that so often, but I do.

One of the difficult things about traveling, aside from living out of a suitcase and never having enough time with all those I love here, especially my kiddos, is not having a "spot" here at SI. My parents' home is still theirs. I cook in my mom's kitchen, sit in my dad's chair, have (tried) to turn his bedroom into a guest room per my mom's instructions and although I am very comfortable there, I am aware that it is not my home. Due to the large amount of stress I handle and diffuse here, I need a spot that I can lean on when my walks are over...just to catch me when I start to sink.

Enter Camp Quinipet...again. It is amazing what can happen in an hour!! Anyway, last week at the Senior Potluck, I saw this scruffy little table tucked, forgotten, into a corner. It sung to me. Yesterday I called the camp director and asked him about it. Interestingly, he was looking for a new "home" for it. It was not quite camp appropriate. Today I loaded up my little waif into the car. I think we are going to be really good for each other! All we both need is a little sea air. Take a look...

Where is your "spot"? Log off now and go claim it! xoxoxo

Words to weekend by...

What would a trip to New York be without a mention of cupcakes? I mean...not only are they perfect morsels to munch on but look at the advice they dish out...This is from Butta' Cakes...my fave cupcake shop in New York. Absolutely melt in your mouth goodness.

Here is what I wish for all of you this weekend...the wisdom of that sign and this view...

This is the view from the visitor's center at Camp Quinipet. They own a magnificient piece of property that juts out into the Little Peconic Bay. It is a kids' summer camp (L-U-C-K-Y) and is also the site for some senior activities that I am trying to tap my mom into. There are a surprising number of seniors here, about 30% of the residents and what a spot to gather. Here are some shots of a fabulous tree, inside camp crafts and also some of the art there from a favorite local artist.

The event we went to was a potluck and the food was something else. I'll share what we took next week. For now, I just gotta figure out how to keep my mom going to these!!

The Child-Mother: Director's Cut

I have to practice things. That is how I quit stuttering. I rehearsed and rehearsed until the fearful became the practiced, the anxious became the calm. And so it is when I travel the last 100 miles to my mom's.

The first 1100 miles are easy, unless I have an epic air travel experience. I get to see my kiddos and visit with them for a precious day or two. And, of course, do my NYC walk abouts. Oh, how I love that city!

Then, I usually take the bus from Manhattan out to Mom or drive. The first 60 miles or so are pure Long Island Expressway. Not much to write about except whenever I pass The Pine Barrens, I always recall that classic episode from The Sopranos. Best episode ever!  Chrissy, Paulie and the ketchup packs. Oh my, I miss Carmela.

At about the 67th mile mark, with a simple fork in the road, I arrive at the North Fork of Long Island and life rolls back 20, 50, 100, 100's of years.  Big box stores and fast food restaurants left behind, I pass by new farms, bi-centenniel farms, some homes built in the 1600's, old churchs and graveyards, farm markets, vineyards, diners, osprey, seagulls, and plenty of kitsch until there, at another fork in the road, is "it"..the first glimpse of the sea. So peaceful.

                                               

The first view of Peconic Bay...

Up until that point, I can do the trip as it happens, unscripted and unpracticed. Even the ferry trip to Shelter Island is OK. I love the ferry ride and must have 100's of pictures of "ferry foam". I wish I could bottle that sound. The crossing is fun because Peconic Bay is an ever changing stage for sea life...fishing boats, sailboats, birds, storms, night lights, fog horns, etc. And I am caught up in it all until I have to disembark on Shelter Island.

Then it hits me. There is no one here to pick me up. Dad and Mom used to come and then just Dad when Mom got so disabled. Now Dad is gone. And so, I start to work on what I have practiced.

Act One:

Scene One: I usually have to schlep my always too heavy stuff up and down hills to my Mom's. It's almost a mile and there is no other way to do it. No matter what the weather. Last February, there was a freak 23 inches of new, unplowed snow on the ground. I only got about half way with all my bags. Exhausted from hauling myself and the suitcases through 2 feet of snow, I left one suitcase in a field. An hour or so later, I regrouped and went back for it and slugged through five more inches of fresh snow. I made an awesome snow angel though. She lasted a week!

Scene Two: I get to the door of my parent's home and again realize, there is no one there to meet me. I have to get the key and let myself in and not look too winded. If I arrive huffing and puffing, Mom will feel bad and immediately launch into her worry mode.

Scene Three: I am in and standing in the foyer. Still out of view from my mom, but out of the corner of my eye, I can see my dad's empty chair and table. His basket of jellies is still there and I half expect him to be, too.  On his table are a pair of my reading glasses I left last visit and a new pile of papers and lists for me to go through.

This is when I have to collect myself and mentally go back over what I have practiced. I can't forget to breathe.  As I round the corner and head into the den, it is like the curtain going up on stage. I hope my face will not betray me. The first sight of my chair-confined mom is always heart-wrenching and I am not quite used to seeing her so disabled and immobile. Is that really my mom? She closely watches that first impression reflected in my face and learns in an instant whether she is "holding her own".  I know this and enter with a smile and a cheerful "Hi Mom! How are ya, sweetie? You look great!" And she does. I am so proud of her.

That is the role I have: delivering hope and confidence, care and companionship, good cheer and comfort. While making a few changes as I morph from child to mom of my mom, like "Hey, Mom, you know feather-y haircut you like so much? It would look great on you!", I am very careful to make decisions that play up her positives while addressing her needs. Ones with a delicate "balance of power" that don't strip her of her dignity, her remaining independence and will to live and that don't make her feel like I am taking over. I am not always sure of the decisions I help her make and like most children, worry that I am doing the best I can for her. 

Surely, it will continue to get easier, as the fearful becomes the practiced, the anxious becomes the calm.

Act 2

She is radiant and wonders if ice cream and a cookie, maybe two, would be a good idea. Absolutely! To the kitchen I go.

Ben and Jerry's New York Chunky Fudge for her and for me, my newest dairy-free treat:

And, hold the cookies. I have some Natural State Granola Bars in my suitcase!

Getting Down and Dirty: Dirt Candy

I originally wrote this in June but pulled it to wait out some exciting news. It is now August 10th, I can't wait any longer and this The Red, White and Food is a big shout out. Amanda is the first vegetarian chef to compete on Iron Chef America!! The air date is August 29th, 10 p.m. eastern, 9 for us central folks. The battle is on! Mark your calendars. And, for those of you headed to New York...don't miss Dirt Candy!

And so, now is the perfect time to get down and dirty with Amanda Cohen and her jewel of a restaurant, Dirt Candy. I discovered Dirt Candy on one of my "walk abouts" and fell in love with her food. And, her story of opening her restaurant in 2008 is pretty amazing, too. What is "Dirt Candy"? Vegetables, of course. She says it all on her website, http://www.dirtcandynyc.com/
"Anyone can cook a hamburger, but leave vegetables to the professionals".

Her textures and flavors are melt-in-your-mouth fabulous and so palate-pleasing even the most die-hard carnivore wouldn't miss meat. Anyway, it's all about what fabulous foods are there, not what's not! The pictures only tell part of the story. The flavors are like nothing else. You just gotta be there! And, take me.

Here is the mouthwatering scrapbook of my evening there. For starters, the must-have Jalapeno Hush Puppies with Maple Butter. One bite and you know. Yes, it's Dirt Candy.

And digging deeper and deeper into her candy jar, next came the "Mushroom" appetizer: portobello mousse, truffled toast, pear and fennel compote.

For an entree, I chose "Tomato": fried green tomatoes, toasted coconut and yellow tomato sauce over tomato spaetzle.

Lissa had "Corn": stone ground grits, corn cream, pickled shiitakes, huitlacoche, tempura poached egg.

I wish you could just have one bite of her food. Well, you must. That's all there is to it. Because, until you do, these pictures are just eye candy. Let me know if you are headed to New York and I will map out my list of treasures! A stop at Dirt Candy is a sweet treat indeed, from start to finish. Here is our sorbet-luscious dessert. We were supposed to share it. Sorry, sweetie!

When I got home, I emailed Amanda, thanked her for the beyond delicious evening and asked for her favorite cookbooks. I am going to explore each one she recommended and luckily, I already had one and look forward to digging deeper into the recipes.

I am so grateful for the "sweet people I continue to meet" like Amanda. I'll be on the edge on my seat on the 29th!!! Get down and dirty, girl. Win that thing!

And, here's a message just in from Amanda, "Thanks for the post! I hope lots of people watch the show! It was crazy fun!"

We'll be there!

Sunday Sweets

Look at what I found at my back door!!! These beauties are from my dear neighbor and her coveted fig tree. I tried to grow one myself but no such luck. Her tree is a legend around here.

Look at these figs...you can see they are just oozing sweetness...some have already burst open. I thought about caramelizing them for a recipe I have but, nope...I am just going to pop them in my mouth. Perfect just as is. Ahhh...Sundays! xoxoxoxoxo to you, sweet neighbor!