Timshel and the Glory of Choice

I added John Steinbeck's East of Eden to my Cinquenta List because it was embarrassing that all three of my children read the classic (required for high school English Lit) and I hadn't.  I'm just not okay forfeiting literary accomplishments  to the offspring so readily, especially when I'm damn sure I spent more time editing their papers on the book  then they did writing them.  Admittedly, keeping up with my children  turned out to be  a big "reading" motivation for me, but happily, East of Eden brought far more joy than the one-upsmanship I set out to equalize when I started the book.  


 I love California and by  that  I mean I love my state's natural beauty.   I've been here for 17 years now and still marvel at Cali's  golden hillsides, expansive farmlands, rugged coastlines, majestic mountains and outrageous trees:  rustic, sprawling oaks, enormous sequoia's, and deliciously fragrant eucalyptus.  Steinbeck is one of California's most celebrated novelists (though I guess Wallace Stegner deserves props too) and he just nails the lure of the Salinas Valley with such purity and clarity that  I can practically smell the very land  he's describing.   It was a treat to enjoy the area through Steinbeck's words.  


My passion for this area is reinforced virtually every day.  On a run, bike ride, hike and  drive, I'm find myself in  awe  of my surroundings (unless of course I'm in LA) and more times than not, after I take in all the gloriousness around me, I'm moved......spiritually.  As I admire the sweeping views,  I picture my mother and hear her words in my head, "God is Good".  For me, this statement means He exists and to be honest, there just aren't many other times when I'm inspired to "believe" as such.  


This spiritual revelation is apropos because there are so many biblical/religous references in Steinbeck's epic East of Eden:  Cain and Abel, good versus evil,  heaven and hell.  Perhaps most compelling for me though was Steinbeck's introduction of the Hebrew concept of timshel,  or "thou mayest".   This one hebrew word captures one of my life's personal credo's.   I believe we have the power to do what we set our mind to do. I've told my children from the time they were wee ones, small and tiny  to the teenagers and young adults they are today, "Make good choices, focus on what you need to do and then...act".  Upon reading East of Eden, I realize this philosophy has  served as a moral compass for me as well.  I won't go all preachy on you, but obviously "good choices" in my Momma-schpeal means "morally good choices".  


Steinbeck got me pretty jazzed about the promise of Timshel.  From East of Eden directly, here's how he  puts it:  


 "Lee’s hand shook as he filled the delicate cups. He drank his down in one gulp. “Don’t you see?” he cried. “The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in ‘Thou shalt,’ meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’— that gives a choice. ...... He can choose his course and fight it through and win.” Lee’s voice was a chant of triumph.

Adam said, “Do you believe that, Lee?”

“Yes, I do. Yes, I do. It is easy out of laziness, out of weakness, to throw oneself into the lap of deity, saying, ‘I couldn’t help it; the way was set.’ But think of the glory of the choice! That makes a man a man. A cat has no choice, a bee must make honey."  

"Think of the glory of the choice."  I never had before, but thanks to my East of Eden experience, I really do now.

Thanks John.

No Escaping Your Genes

A dear, dear friend gave me "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" by Betty Smith  for my birthday read.    It's a coming of age story that details  the impoverished life of Francie Nolan, a young, bright girl  growing up in Brooklyn in the early 1900's.    Raised by a fiercely pragmatic mother (she had to be  because  her husband was a raging alcoholic) and  nurtured by her loving and compassionate father and aunt,  Francie was able to find her  path out of  poverty through smarts,  hard work, and education.

I was trying to connect the story line back to Judy  so that I could write about "A Tree...."  in a way that "shouts out" to a great friend, but I've been struggling with the task.   I finished the book a few months ago and was about to give up writing about it in my blog for the lack of that tie, when lo and behold,  just this week after a bike ride with Judy  I found the connection I was searching for.

Judy and I have a lot in common -- which explains why we're such close friends. We're both east coast transplants, we've got the same family make up, a son and  two daughters (our 21 year old girls have been close friends since they were 4), we're in mixed marriages (one Jew, one Catholic),   and we've both juggled work and parenthood since .....we started having kids.  Throughout my life in California, I've turned to my west coast sister for advice, counsel and a shoulder to cry on.  Love her!

We try to meet a few times a month for an early morning bike ride.  We beat the traffic and the heat and head to the hills at 6:45  and to the chagrin of our safety-obsessed husbands, we chat incessantly throughout the 60 plus minutes we share together.    We compare notes about work.  We worry about our children. We share recipes and shopping finds.  And, we confide in each other.  From Judy, I  know that I'll always get a thoughtful response to any problem I'm facing.  When we part ways at the end of the ride, I head home happy and uplifted.

Yesterday we were talking about our children.    As we covered the issue at hand, I realized that there's an undeniable truth about family dynamics -- there's simply a  DNA connection that you cannot escape and  it defines who you are and how you operate.   In "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn", as a little girl, Francie gravitates towards her father for love and support, because he's warmer and more approachable than her hardworking  mom.  She identifies with his compassion and kindness.   But, it's when Francie sets out to leave Brooklyn  as a young woman  that she recognizes in herself, the attributes she inherited from her mother.... her discipline, focus and determination.  She's comforted by the realization that she's a true by-product of both her parents.

Judy's  got two kids that are through and through just like her.. they problem-solve like Judy, they set objectives like Judy, they calculate risks like Judy, and their goals are similar to hers.  Judy's third, much like my youngest, is more spirited and carefree.  These girls march to the beat of different drummer.  Judy's Alex is, I think, in many ways, very much like her her aunt and grandmother, creatives to the core.   In the case of my daughter, Audrey is a fiery and confident version of my outgoing and social mother-in-law.  We both are in awe of our daughters' potential.  They have attributes we both wish we had.  It's a blast and a challenge to parent these children.  In some cases you can soooo relate to them and in others, because the DNA pull is from the other side of the family tree --  you feel like you're lacking the perspective to get it right.   I realize that this dilemma has been going on since the beginning of time.....but when you're living and breathing it yourself...it's (to quote the Wizard of Oz), a horse of a different color!

 Ultimately, this is how I see it:  like Francie in "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn", our children will leave the nest armed with the important life skills we've conscientiously worked to provide them.  They will know that they are loved like mad.   And thanks to their  unique DNA make-ups, they'll inject far more pizazz in their adventures than we ever could have fathomed.    They, like Francie will be able to connect the dots  -- recognizing how and who they came to be by reflecting on their family -- and their genetic ties to it.  Hopefully, they'll be pleased with the connection.  I think they will be.

Tandem Life: Married for 25 Years!

Shortly after we got married, Jeff and I bought our first road bikes.   Since those early days, we accumulated lots more cycling stuff, the most notable acquisition was our tandem, a bicycle built for two, which Jeff bought right before we moved to California.    I was 8 months pregnant at the time and not happy with my husband for adding one more expensive contraption to our ever-expanding garage.  In retrospect, I now can recognize I just wasn't in a place to appreciate the brilliance of the purchase.   

We've been riding together for 25 years and the majority of our cycling has taken place on that very tandem.  Whether on century rides, excursions with the kids, an adventure in Spain, or a quick jaunt on the weekend, we've pedaled through miles and miles of beautiful terrain, up long and arduous hills, through sunshine, clouds and rain, and stunning views and vistas.    Sometimes the ride is simply about enjoying spectacular California weather.  Others, it's about getting in shape.  Or, it's about competition, beating someone who has had the nerve to pass us.  And, there  are days when our biking is just an exercise of recovery -- from either a stressful week or too much fun the night before.

I love tandem talk.  It's the language of riding and in a way, our marriage: 

• PUSH!   This means something hard is coming up and we have to tackle the challenge together.  I grit my teeth, clamp my eyes shut, and will my muscles to keep up with my husband.   I'm dreading the hairy task at hand, but knowing I'm tackling it with my partner, I'm confident I can take on the climb.  We've had our share of scary hills to conquer in life, but we do our best work when we PUSH together. 
• RECOVER!  This means we've made it through the tough stuff and have earned a reprieve.  We strive to regulate our breathing, let our bodies rest and it's then that I can pick up my head and take in the beauty around me.  It's quiet and we're both absorbed in our own thoughts and reflections.  You need periods of recovery, particularly after a slog to appreciate what you've accomplished and to prepare for what lies ahead.  
• WHERE ARE YOU?  This means I eased up too soon.  I stopped focusing and wasn't holding up my end of the task.  Sometimes it infuriates me to get scolded for slacking off, but it's only fair to get called out for not being there for my partner.  On a tandem, both riders have to share in the work.    Why should one have to do all the heavy lifting? 
• I'VE GOT IT.  There are times, usually late in a long or intense ride, when I just can't do my share.  I'm spent.  The words, "don't worry, I've got it" make me melt with appreciation.   Beyond the bike, it's easy to appreciate that kind of "of course" support from your spouse. 
• COAST. This is different than RECOVER.  This is a way for Jeff to tell me to fall in line with his cycling cadence, to make sure we're working in alignment.  If I push to pedal when he's not, well, that's not good.   I see our flattened bodies on the road as I type this!  In marriage, you have to be in sync.  The “coasting” fosters harmony and contentment more than safety, but it’s a valid relationship tenet all the same. 
• NICE AND EASY.  This is a declaration that we're simply heading out to enjoy the ride and that we won't inflict hardcore distance, racing or hills into the outing.   There are days when taking it easy is just what you need.  No pressure.  No stress.  No challenge.  On a tandem, at work, with the family, in life,  ahhhhh, I do enjoy those periods of NICE AND EASY.   
• A PIERCING WHISTLE.  That terse sound is coming from Jeff out of the blue and startles me to attention, but more importantly, it alerts an oblivious driver or rider that we're there.  It shouts out authoritatively, "don't crash into us!" and captures my husband's spot-on protective instincts on which I have had the good fortune to rely throughout my married life.   Jeff's whistle from the bike is for me the sound of safety, security and peace of mind.

As corny an analogy as it is, marriage is a lot like our bike rides.  It's about partnership, through and through.  You work in sync, yet each rider has to contribute individually. You push each other up a monster hill and rejoice after the excruciating climb.   During the long, monotonous stretches, you keep each other entertained or focused on the end-goal.  Occasionally, you have to needle your partner to keep going, or cheer her on.  There are times when one of you struggles.  There are others when you're both on fire.   You breeze through beautiful and you power through butt ugly.  Together, you get stronger. The glorious thing is no matter what, you're doing it all --- in tandem.  I love that. 

Happy Anniversary Jeffrey.

A Gift From Mom

Mothers Day is upon us.  My children are my greatest treasures and so a day devoted to marking their entry in my life is a massive high, but, not having a mom on which to bestow my love and gratitude on "the big day" is still painful for me.   It's hard to believe Mom passed away 20 years ago and as cliche as it sounds, a day doesn't go by when I don't miss her.

I can't begin to count the memories I have of  my mom burrowed in books, students' papers, and newspapers.  Her bedroom and study were filled with stuff to read and our house was littered with textbooks, novels, magazines and journals.  I was destined to love books as much as she did and when I pick up a book...even today, I think of  my mother, which makes me happy.  So today, to combat the blues, I dedicate this post to my Mom and focus on a title she gave me back when I was in 8th grade.  It had a big impact on my young life. 

She was teaching history at the time and had her high school students read Nicolas and Alexandra, by Robert Massie, the story of imperial Russia's last tsar and tsarina.  I was mesmerized by the palace intrigue,the tumult of the Russian Revolution and the mystery behind the Romanov assassinations.  From that point forward,  I felt a deep connection to Russia beyond my heritage and dedicated much of my college life to learning more about  the country's language, history, art, literature, and politics.  I spent a summer at Middlebury College to immerse myself in Russian language, then traveled to the Soviet Union (what it was called back then in the 80's), and I scored an internship at the State Department where I could apply my Russian beyond the classroom, though I found the monotony of that junior post too much to bear.

Graduating from college with a degree in Russian  in the height of the Cold War didn't lead to many job opportunities.  I wasn't adventurous enough to sign up for a foreign affairs post. I didn't want to teach at the university level, or put in the graduate work required to do so.  So, I did what  many liberal arts students did back then...I faked it.    Through my study of Russian and mastering its very complex grammar, I learned how to write -- in English.   After my first agency job,  I  discovered that  that this was a very marketable skill -- and I have been relying on it  ever since.   Спасибо Россию (Thank you Russian)!

Even though I never actually used my Russian in my professional life, I have indulged in reading many, many Russian titles over the years.  Thought I'd pull a list together and share some treasures.   There are some spectacular reads here -- so if you're up for exploring the Motherland, enjoy!  (These are in no particular order, just some of my faves.)

1.  Nicolas & Alexandra, Robert Massie.  This got me started.
2.  Crime & Punishment, Fyodor Dostoevsky (I did my senior thesis on Dostoevsky, so I'm a fan of this dark writer.)
3.  Brother's Karmazov, F. Dostoevsky
4.  White Nights, F. Dostoevsky (The first novel I ever read in Russian.)
5.   Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy  (One of my favorite stories of all time.)
6..  War & Peace, Tolstoy
7.   A Hero of our Time:  Michail Lermontov
8.   A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich:  Alexander Solzhenitsyn
9.   The Overcoat:  Nikolai Gogal
10.  Fathers & Sons:  Ivan Turgenev
11.  The Kitchen Boy:  A novel of the Last Tsar:  Robert Alexander (Thanks Ellen!  Loved this.)
12.  Red Surgeon:  George Borodin  (Leningrad/Nazi Battle)
13.  A Day in the LIfe of the Soviet Union:  Rick Smolan
14.  Absurdistan:  Gary Shteyngart
15.   Everything is Illuminated,   Jonathan Safran Foer
16.  City of Thieves, David Benioff  (More modern take on Leningrad/Nazi Battle.  A light, but deep read.)
17. Dr. Zhivago:  Boris Pasternak  (I like the movie better!)
18.  The Rasputin File:  Eduard Radzinsky (I was a bit obsessed with this dude for a period.)
19.  Gorky Park:  Martin Cruz Smith.  Cheesy mystery based in Moscow.  I liked it though.
20.  The Master and Margarita,  Mikhail Bulgakov









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Magic Lessons: Love. Loss. Recovery.

A dear friend  gave me "The Magicians Assistant" by Anne Patchett because it was one of her favorite reads, making it a  perfect addition to my Cinquenta List.

I found the book to be sad on many levels, but beneath the  mournful undertones, Patchett shows us how we can find our way to happiness.  The main character,  Sabine worked and was in love with Parsifal the Magician for twenty years.  He finally married her after his partner, Phan  succumbed to AIDS.    How tragic to be in love with someone who can't return the feelings.    Add to that the obvious physical non-attraction and well.....even a bigger waste!   Yet, this pseudo-marriage seemed to work for the both of them.  Soon after the wedding, however, Parsifal dies, leaving the beautiful Sabine alone and devastated. 

 For those who haven't experienced  absolute heartache, Patchett's writing gives you a snapshot of what that intense loss feels like.  You writhe in pain, you feel profound emptiness physically and emotionally, and the grief consumes you to the point of suffocation.  Sabine's anguish is so intense, I  found myself experiencing sympathy pains, treading heavily in her abyss of despair.  I too wanted to crawl into bed and stay there until the end of time.  I too, lost my appetite.  I too felt hollow.    In this book, the story line wasn't the star of the show, it was  the beautiful insights on  mourning and recovery that blew me away.   I'm not a masochist I swear, but the read brought me "there" and "back" and I loved that experience.  

The journey starts for Sabine, who in the throes of  grief, discovers that her beloved Parisfal kept secret a past that just didn't match up to the man she knew and loved.  Initially I thought this betrayal would be the final blow for Sabine, but instead, the discovery of the Magician's family,  (his mom and sisters, not sired kids from days of yore!) was the "magic"  she needed to connect the dots and rejoin the living.

The Magician Assistant also makes you evaluate how deeply your past shapes your present.   It tells the story of someone who reconstructed his childhood to cut himself completely from it, to escape it.     It made me wonder how many friends I have, people I know who have severed  their pasts to forge an adulthood that does not reflect the mess they left behind.  What causes that flight?  A cruel mother or father? An unspeakable act?  A shameful mistake?  A cultural or religious divide? 

My friend who gave me this book is a fireball.  Full of spunk and vigor.  Empathetic like you wouldn't believe.  Passionate to the core.   Whenever I picture her face in my mind's eye, I see a big, wild, unabashed SMILE.  This image fills me with JOY, as does basically every moment I spend with her.

 The Magician's Assistant has made me think about my friend and her childhood.    And I marvel some more.  How did  this vibrant, bubbly incredible wife, mother, sister and friend turn out the way she did?   She is the opposite of the woman who raised her.  Admittedly, I don't know the intimate details of my friend's relationship with her mother,  but I do know that because of it, her approach to life was self-shaped, and with purpose, she drove it in an opposite direction from her mom.      It wasn't  by chance that my friend is this bundle of energy and optimism.  It was by design,  a way to break free from the negativity that plagued and tainted her mother's own life.

Like Parsifal, my friend  masterfully designed a happy and adventurous life for herself.  She hasn't had to hide her past the way Patchett's Magician did, but she did pull a rabbit out of a hat by becoming the spirited woman she is today, and Lord, that's a really good thing because she brings so much joy to those around her!   Had she not gotten into the driver's seat of life, I fear that she may not have been able to pull off such a huge trick.  I'm selfishly thrilled she did.

Love you baby!

Burma and Fighting for your Babies.

Gina gave me the "Glass Palace" by Amitav Ghosh  as a way of introducing me to her father's Burma.  It's an epic  novel that leverages the lives of three generations of Burmese and Indians  to illustrate the tumultuous economic, social and political changes in southeast Asia from the 1800's when Burma's king was ousted from power, to modern day Myanmar. 

I was eager to dive into "The Glass Palace" because I wanted to get a glimpse into a dear friend's background.  Her recent attempts to return to her father's homeland have been foiled by political unrest  and so I was keen to "study up" on Burma to be more in the know and as she suggested, get inspired to eventually explore the country with her as my guide.  I expected the book to connect me to Gina's inner Burmese, but it didn't. Instead I found myself reflecting more on Gina's maternal heritage,  her relationship with her mother (who isn't Burmese)  and her  amazing daughter, Charlotte.

One of the main characters in "The Glass Palace" is Dolly, nursemaid to the Second Princess.  She is an exquisite beauty, stunning and breathtaking, yet unaware that she is.  So too, is my friend Gina.    Yet, unlike my  Gina, Dolly is passive,  accepting life's circumstances without challenge or verve.   This changes dramatically though, when her child falls ill.   Dolly's resolve and determination to support her sick son through recovery again reminded me of my dear friend.

 Gina's daughter Charlotte came into the world early, very early.  Born at about 1.5 pounds,  the Rayfield  Peanut was frail and tiny and as you'd expect,  her premature arrival transformed what was supposed to be a joyous time for her family into a frightening one.  Strangely, nearly thirteen years later and because of a nudge I received from  Dolly in "The Glass Palace", I find myself drifting back to that period that forever transformed my friend's life. 

Naturally, we were focused on Charlotte's condition,  never expecting things to get hairy for Gina.   Yet, as her newborn daughter was being cared for in the NICU, Gina started to bleed and bleed and bleed and late at night, was whisked from her room straight into emergency surgery.  As just one support entity nearby for the family, our focus was on Mike, Gina's husband.  It's not necessary to recall the details of the discussions we shared during that difficult time,  but suffice it to say the man adores his wife -- as he should!

Interestingly,  "The Glass Palace"  has forced me to change the lens on how I look back on Charlotte's birth.  Having just read about Burma, Malaysia and India through the eyes of child, parent and grandparent,  I began to reflect on that crisis from the  perspective of Gina's mom.    How did Lynn keep it together when in a flash,  both her "baby" and "grandbaby" were in a fight for their lives?   I wrack my memory to recapture the  images I have of Lynn at the hospital,  talking to Mike and other visitors, so calm and strong.   I imagine how I'd have handled the situation if I were in her shoes.  Since I'm sure  I'd have been a blubbering baboon, I am convinced I've screwed something up on my recall.

But, I know I haven't.    Just like Dolly, I now understand that Lynn dug in deep and tapped into her Momma strength, something powerful and mighty.  And magically, or  genetically, she's passed that inner courage onto her daughter.

For the last 13 years, I've been blown away by Gina's resolve.  It's almost as if she, like Dolly, has a spiritual connection that powers her tenacity and it's that drive that has helped transform the Nut into Charlotte, the beautiful, talented, delightful and bigger than life preteen that she is today.   Yes, Charlotte  has had her share of issues due to her premature start to life, but Gina helps her daughter simply take it day by day.   And because of that, Charlotte has the very best --  care, experiences, opportunity, and dreams a child could ever have.  

I look ahead ten, fifteen or twenty years from now -- to when we get to watch Charlotte find her way as a Mom.  I can't wait to experience the deja vu moments we'll enjoy recalling the history of her maternal line as Charlotte taps into her own inner courage to fight for her babes.  When it's time, remind me to tell the Rayfields, I want a front row seat to enjoy the show.

Recipes for a LIfetime

I love food.    I love to smell it, eat it, think about it, and share it.  So, Kate's book selection, Tender on the Bone, was a perfect recommendation for my Cinquenta List.  It's a memoir by Ruth Reichl,  Gourmet's editor in chief and former food critic for the NY Times.  The story is a  simple one;  people throughout her life shaped Ruth's love for cooking and food.  From childhood through adulthood, there is  an individual, story and correlating recipe.

For years, my personal collection of food memories  were housed in a manila folder I jammed in with my cookbooks.  One year, my daughter Julia gave me the perfect Mothers' Day gift -- she carefully organized my mess in a hand-decorated binder she entitled "Mom's Old & New Recipes and Experiments".  In it sit my treasures, prized possessions I've collected  from friends and family that shape virtually every special meal I prepare -- a simple dessert to welcome a child home, a dinner to enjoy with friends from out of town, a massive holiday feast or a menu to feed 50 to ring in the new year!   The book grows each year with new food ideas that are forever  tied to the people who've shared them with me.

I browse my collection lovingly.    My grandmother's apple cake, banana bread, and famous cookie recipes are there, all handwritten on now-faded legal paper.  GG was our family's great baker.  She came to visit us in California when she was 95 years old and one day  when we were enjoying some downtime,  I asked her to her select her favorite desserts I could pass on to my  children.  I assumed she'd go home, find the recipes and then send me her top selections, but instead, she simply asked for  paper and a pencil and spent the next 20 minutes jotting them down for me.  95 Years Old.  6 Recipes.  By Heart. 

My mother  was an INCREDIBLE cook.  Two of her specialties are in my binder and I cherish them  for the recipes themselves, as well as  for the paper they are written on and the memories they illicit.  The first one she sent upon my request.  It was for her killer white chocolate cheese cake (which is to die for!), which she hastily scribbled on the back of an old wedding invitation.  Faded card stock, formal engraved letters documenting my cousin's second attempt at marriage immortalizes the dessert my mom first made when she invited Jeff's parents over to dinner to celebrate our engagement!   

I'm the guilty scribbler of my mom's other contribution to the food binder.   It was our first Thanksgiving and I wanted to impress my mother-in-law.  Mom dictated the recipe for her pumpkin bread over the phone which I captured  under the masthead of a now defunct ad agency, Wooding & Housely, the firm that gave me my start in marketing.  The recipe brings me back to a moment in time  and that, along with that yummy bread, is priceless to me.

My blog is no book -- but I'll follow Ruth's lead by using the medium to share the food that has shaped my life.    Below are my Top 25 .....if you want the recipe, let me know and I'll send them.  Enjoy....

1.  Kate's Cheese Dips (I have two).  I brought my dear friend's curry/chutney dish to a holiday party this year and two women came up to me raving about it.  (It really is one of those creations that when you start with a taste, you just can't stop eating, eating, eating.)  The small world connection was that both of the dip's admirers knew Kate (who had moved to Minneapolis years earlier)  and when I credited her as the rightful owner of the appetizer glory, we then spent the next 30 minutes enjoying wonderful Kate and Barry stories.  I love how food does that!

2.  Aunt Pat's Chicken Wings.  Her daughter explained the prep secret to me......"cook the shit out of them".

3.  My sister's cook books.  The best in my own cookbook collection are from Ellen.  Hundreds of yummy treats from my big sister's talents, creativity and passion for all things food-related!

4.  Mary's Spinach recipe.  Not healthy, but so, so yummy.    I make it nearly every Thanksgiving.

5.  Gina's Gumbo.  My version paled in comparison to hers,  but my mother and grandmother weren't from New Orleans.  Gina's were, so great gumbo is in this woman's DNA.  Clearly, not mine.    What Gina can do with gumbo, her husband Mike can do in a smoker.  It's kind of pointless eating ribs or pork butt if Mike hasn't prepared them, so I don't bother, but I have tried to recreate some of his sauces and those attempts/formulas are captured in my book. 

6.  Bob's Crabcakes.  Basically, anything Bob Blasing makes is incredible, but these are off the charts, the BEST crabcake I have ever, ever, ever tasted.  Astounding.

7.  Judy's Grammy Angie's cookies, but we call them Judy Kaufman's cookies.   Again, my version SUCKS compared to hers, but I make them every year,  and my kids devour them.  Thanks Judy.

8.  Danielle's Lemon Cake.  Frozen, light, lovely.  The crust (made with graham crackers and pretzels) is the best on the planet.

9.  Carol Sack's Nana's Brisket.  I grew up in a Jewish household, but couldn't crack the "melt in your mouth" brisket code.  Until I saw this on Carol Sack's facebook page. 

10.  Regina's Pavlova.  Who knew I could make something so elegant? (Not my forte)  One of my favorite desserts for a summer dinner, of all time.

11.  Erika's Chicken and Date concoction.  When she said, "it's so good, you could eat it for days", she was spot on.

12.  Amy's Date/Bacon appetizer.  Obscene.

13.  Michelle's, arugula, goat cheese, prosciutto appetizer.  More obscene.

14.  Chocolate Souffle's.  Sadly, I don't know who gave me this recipe.  It's an easy to make, easy to impress, dramatic dessert. A staple in my book. 

15.  Deanne's Beef Tenderloin with chimichurri sauce  I love this dish -- it's spicy and smoky and devour-able.  I was introduced to it, along with Scott's Pomegranite Martini's  at a fun-filled dinner with some of my favorite people in the world. 

16.  Grandma Dot's Peanut Butter Blossom cookies.  These are basic peanut butter cookies with a Hershey kiss on top.  My mother-in-law gets the credit for this recipe  because she gave me the cookbook  that features it  and because my brother-in-law devours the cookies every time he visits us at Thanksgiving.  Dot was a HORRENDOUS cook, so this is the only attribution to a good recipe the woman will ever get!   (Though in fairness, she made killer mashed potatoes (we all miss them!) and "podada salad".....that's Boston for potato salad.) 

17.  Angie's Popeye Pancakes.  One cup flour, one cup milk, 6 eggs and lots of butter.  Lemon and powder sugar.  Breakfast heaven.

18. Mary Alice's Peanut Butter/Chocolate Balls.  Dottie's dear friend was a beautiful baker.  We used to visit with her late on Christmas Eve and enjoy what was left over from her family feast.....This is one of my favorites:  peanut butter, sugar, butter, chocolate.  Need I say more?

19.  Claudia's Cobbler recipe -- delivered with apricots grown from the Westrum's yard.  What's better than that?

20.  Shanan's Cranberry and Chocolate Chip Biscotti.  I got these when I was at TiVo and still love 'em.

21.  DD's Butternut Squash Soup.  Lot of prep work, but oh so worth it....I wish I had some right now!

22.  Nana's Welsh Cookies.  Emily Cashen wasn't a great cook -- the woman almost poisoned me when I was 8 months pregnant with Bobby (I will never eat corned beef  again), but Welsh Cookies are tied to generations of Cashen lore, so I include them here.

23.  Home-made Mud Pie.  My creation, but a Thanksgiving tradition my children and their friends won't let me break.    When in doubt, add more chocolate. 

24.  Carol's Toffee Brittle.  Carol was an admin in Jeff's office in the early TI days -- back in Boston.  Butter, sugar, chocolate and pecans.  Easy to make and even easier to eat. 

25.  Grilled Asparagus, Basil and Parmesan.  Jim Pena whipped these up on the grill in our early California days.  Throw balsamic vinegar in the mix and you're set.  My daughter will eat this from now,  until the end of time.

It's Time: A Sarah Palin Rant

The Lacuna, by Barbara Kingsolver

Michelle gave me this book for my birthday.  I loved it.  Not only is it a great story,  but The Lacuna re-introduced me to important people and periods of  North American culture and history.    Hard to imagine a novel could credibly incorporate Diego Riveria, Frida  Kahlo , Leo Trotsky and Joseph McCarthy in a tale about a boy growing up in Mexico, but kudos to Barbara Kingsolver for pulling it off. 

The Lacune also zeroed in on an unpleasant period  of our history,  the infamous fifties when the government went a vast witch hunt to uncover subversive Communists in our society.   During the Red Scare, thousands of artists, actors, writers, and business people were ruined because Senator McCarthy fanned the flames of hatred and the American people were quick to jump on the Attack Bandwagon.  No surprise that a lot of liberal Jews fell under attack as well.    After celebrating the end of WWII and a glorious period of patriotism, our country plummeted into the bowels of ugliness.  I remember when I learned about this embarrassing period when I was a kid and it was the first time I felt a bit ashamed of my people, my government, my United States of America. 

Don’t mean for my Cinquenta Tales blog to be a political bully pulpit, because I don’t wish to offend, but if you’re reading this you know me and so already know that I absolutely despise Sarah Palin and the Tea Party values she ballyhoos.

When I came upon the McCarthy period in The Lacuna and was reacquainted with the Senator’s lovely handiwork, Sarah Palin’s hideous voice, winks to the camera and ignorant tirades  invaded my peace of mind.  It was a horrific and yet crystal clear connection.  She is a modern day Joe McCarthy. From checking out the Russians from her abode in Wasilla, ridiculing the “lamestream media”,  challenging President Obama’s patriotism, to going on the attack against any non-Fox News endorsed policy, this bitch could potentially drum up as much ugly behavior as McCarthy did 60 years ago!  

I’m hoping that her kamikaze performance after the Tuscan tragedy will convince her supporters that she should disappear from the heady world of politics and simply focus on bad reality TV.  I’m hoping that in the next two years, the attack tone of politics of which she is the Master, softens (I know, I’m dreaming).    I’m hoping that we embrace thoughtful discourse, and discontinue the Palin way, stirring up discontent and anger by throwing around derogatory slams against opponents in the hopes of capturing a sound byte on the evening news.  

Right now, her talk and jabs simply ignite a faction of the Republican Party.  Lets hope that the likes of Ms. Palin don't gain enough influence in public office to replicate the bad-doings of the McCarthy era.  

Oh...and read The Lacuna.  Beyond the Hockey Mom connection, it made me want to do a little more research on Frida.  Any recommendations on biographies would be appreciated.

adios.

When You Are Engulfed in Flames, By David Sedaris

My son gave me this book for my birthday.  It’s a compilation of essays, many of which are very hilarious and stinging and touching all at the same time.  Because several pieces address death and dying, Bobby figured it was the perfect selection to mark my 50^th year.   Nice kid!     The truth is, the book instilled in me a sense of hope that I could one day write something as entertaining.  After all, Sedaris simply produced stories about what he observed or experienced.  He’s an essayist with a crazy fun sense of humor and writing style.  I thought I could mimic that.

The guy had plenty of material from which to work.  He came from a large family.   So did I.  He grew up in the sixties/seventies.  Me too.   Hell, just fashion and pop culture alone from those days could provide plenty of storytelling fodder.     The guy did one up me on the sexuality front.  He’s a homosexual and a neurotic one at that, which of course influenced his life and writing. Afraid my orientation is way too mild to spark any inspiration there. 

Nevertheless Sedaris got me wondering what memories or people in my life would help me uncover my hidden creative genius.  (Because it has to be buried somewhere!)   Ty Hobson, our quirky neighbor (who trapped a fox in his backyard and kept it in a cage)?  Dorothy I Cant Remember Her Last Name, the true babysitter from hell who terrorized us kids when my parents went away for overnight trips? Mrs. Striaight, the house cleaner who quit because our home was haunted?  Miss B, my piano teacher, who survived polio only to have to sit through years and years of lessons with the untalented and un-inspired?  Or what about our  move to Yardley, Pennsylvania?  High school drama, which really wasn’t that dramatic? Marriage? Parenthood?   I’d love to be able to capture a fraction of the hellacious adventures I’ve shared with my husband, children and friends. I’ve got 50 years of material, people !!!!!

The harsh reality though is that while Sedaris makes it look easy to share memories in a distinct and cunning way, it’s no small task to present an observation that will be INTERESTING to the unbiased reader, the individual who has absolutely no connection to you.  Sedaris’ book is filled with tales that actually make you laugh out loud or shed a tear or think about a very IMPORTANT something or someone.  And that is what a great writer can do.    I’m sure I could fumble along and create something that will make my family or friends smile, because 1) they love me and 2) I’d simply be recreating a story that we’ve already shared. It’s like sitting around the kitchen table and reminiscing together, laughing at funny memories, rehashing family and friend lore.   But Sedaris does so much more, He brings you into his life, introduces you to his quirks and phobias, successes and heartaches.  He lulls you into thinking you’re going to discover one thing or the other, and then with cunning, finds a way for you relate to his very personal story as if it were you own.   This is far beyond my Expository Writing 101 ability, for sure.  

Anyway, if you are need of some companionship on a trip, or just want to laugh a little before you go to bed, snuggle up with this read.  You can thank Danielle and Bobby for the recommendation.