Category Archives: In between

Let Summer Commence

It’s over – Oliver’s forty-five days of quarantine are finally done! So now summer can officially commence, and let me tell you that all of us are ready. More than ready.

 

quarantine calendar

 

 

No more rabies shots, no enforced use of the leash for every single walk (though trust me we will  be using a leash more often from here on out), and most importantly no more slamming the door in the poor little dog’s face every time we have to slip outside. We can take him to the park, let him romp with his friends, and he can roll around in the grass outside.

 

Good Dog

To celebrate this momentous occasion my friend Hilary re-gifted our family a charming seed rendition of a raccoon someone gave her daughter. I have to admit I giggled when I first saw it because now that our quarantine is over I can laugh about it.

 

Seed Raccoon

 

 

Hope the rest of summer is full of cooking, trips to the farmer’s markets, and free of visits to the ER.

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The Cape of Shame

Today is day three of a forty-five day quarantine.* It looks like it will be a long month and a half.

The Cape of Shame

Mother’s Day was beautiful – 70s, sunny, enough breeze to keep away the bugs. I was enjoying myself sitting out on the deck for the first time this season and painting. Someone let the dog out so he could enjoy it too. We all, humans and animals alike, have had a serious case of cabin fever after such a relentless winter. Then – zoooom – the dog launched himself off the deck to go chase something furry. What can I say? He’s a terrier.

I kept on painting and sipping my wine until his barks switched from “I’m the boss and you’re in my yard” to “I’m in trouble, but that doesn’t matter cause I’m still going to get you”, punctuated with yelps of pain. We all dashed down and found our Jack Russell Terrier had taken on a raccoon. There was a lot of racing under and around the wood piles, with lots of barking and growling. We couldn’t really reach them, and even if we could have, no one wanted to get between the two combatants. Finally my husband managed to separate them after Oliver had grabbed the raccoon by the back of its neck and given him a vicious shake. I took off my work shirt and wrapped the dog with it since he was covered with dirt and blood and who knows what. He was also crazy out of his little walnut sized brain with the excitement of the hunt.

Shawn came up to the house to bathe Oliver while I called our town’s animal control officer. By the time the ACO arrived Oliver was ready for round two and the raccoon had crawled back under the wood pile. The officer decided not to dispatch the raccoon in part because he didn’t have a clear shot and in part because he felt the raccoon wasn’t acting all that strangely. We knew we’d have to get Oliver a rabies vaccine booster and figured that was that. Our Mother’s Day dinner would be a little late, but we’d all move on.

Turns out it’s not that simple. Yes, if your pet is up to date on their shots, they do need a booster, but they also get put under house arrest/quarantine for 45 days. In the house, with only short leashed walks (by an adult), for a month and a half. Did I mention we have a Jack Russell Terrier?

Also because my husband and I had both touched Oliver we too needed to get rabies shots.  A lot of them. Starting with five given at the ER, followed by several more at our doctor’s office over the next three weeks. It is a serious pain in the ass, and I mean that literally since that is where many of the initial shots go. As my sister said via text:

Super bum-mer! Pun intended!!!

 

Cape of shame indoors

So I made Oliver a cape of shame. His very own necktie with a hot pink Q on it for quarantine. Think The Scarlet Letter meets Wishbone. My god-daughter suggested the orange and pink color combination after a favorite pair of sandals she had last summer. I hope Oliver likes wearing it for the next few weeks.

A short walk with the cape of shame

After my Easter disaster and now the Mother’s Day debacle the nurses at our local ER cannot wait to see what I do for Memorial Day.

*From some of the emails I received I realize I need to clarify that the 45 day quarantine is for the dog, not my husband or myself. Though if we start foaming at the mouth and acting all crazy I believe we will get our own special quarantine in a hospital somewhere.

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What To Do When You Can’t Cook

I had several things I wanted to make and post before Easter – my Bunny Garden Carrot Cake, my sister Heather’s Flan, and a great rub for Grilled Lamb which I was planning for our Easter feast. Then I blinked and Holy Week seemed to blur by in a high-speed blip from the Bishop’s visit on Palm Sunday to the wonderful Agape meal on Maundy Thursday to Easter morning. I didn’t get a single post written, though I managed to buy some groceries and scribble a few notes. On Saturday Isabelle, Russell,  and Mary helped me make several dozen rainbow-colored peeps to take to the Easter service at our church. In my pathetic slacker mode I planned to at least post the Angel Food Cake I was going to make for our Sunday dessert on Easter Sunday.

Maundy Thursday Agape Meal

I got up early to revel in the quiet and peace that only seem to happen when everyone but me is sleeping. It always makes me smile to hear the snores and turnings of everyone as I tiptoe to the kitchen. Since I am the only one who is conscious it feels as if I have the house to myself. The sunrises have been glorious of late plus the trees are just on the cusp of budding out. Being the first one up allows me to absorb all of that whispered, early morning beauty. I put the kettle on to make myself a cup of tea,  part of my wake up routine every morning, and as it comes to a boil I start doing some dishes left over from the night before. I like doing dishes. Dunking my hands in the warm sudsy water I can simultaneously loosen my joints – scrub – think – as I slowly enter into full consciousness. Doing the dishes is my drifting time. I can look out the kitchen window and watch the birds flit from branch to branch as I plan out my day. And let me tell you in case you don’t know this, you can do quite a lot of dishes in the time it takes for the kettle to boil.

Spring sunrise

You can also, in the time that it takes for the kettle to boil,  have an accident, which in my case came in the form of a glass breaking in my hand as I twisted the sponge. The circular movement of my hand carved a horseshoe flap off my knuckle. If I’d been going any faster I probably could have managed an entire oval. I sank to my knees and grabbed the paper towels to stop the bleeding then screamed. I wanted the whole house to wake up – I wouldn’t have minded if the whole neighborhood woke up since I needed someone to drive me to the hospital. Easter baskets, breakfast, Angel Food Cake, and the broken glass were left behind as we sped off to the emergency room.

You would think going to the ER at 7:30 am would be fairly quick, but apparently, according to one of my nurses, Easter and Thanksgiving are when most people visit the ER.  For church it’s  the Chreasters (people who attend church on Christmas and Easter), but for the hospital it’s Thanksters (Thanksgiving and Easter). So I waited (still holding the paper towels on) until Dr. T. could look at my X-Ray and decide there was no glass in the wound and then finally, after several shots of numbing stuff, was able to sew me up. No holiday colors of thread to choose from, it was a choice of black or black. I chose black.

Flowering Easter Cross

Five stitches later Isabelle and I dropped Shawn off at church so he could usher in his pajamas (he had thrown on a pair of jeans but he was unshaven, sported a stunning bed head hairdo, and hadn’t brushed his teeth). I had the presence of mind to get a replacement for myself on Altar Guild while we were waiting at the ER. Belle and I zoomed back to the house, changed in less than 5 minutes, and somehow made it back to church with Russell, Mary, and the peeps in time for the end of the sermon. Shawn later joked that all the Chreaters who came to church dressed in their Sunday finest probably thought we had a very embracing community ministry since our church apparently allowed homeless people to usher.

When we got home I realized Easter dinner needed to be significantly truncated since I wasn’t going to be able cook. Turns out I didn’t have to lift a finger other than to feed myself left-handed. Everyone pitched in. I did manage to play my role as the one-handed (one-paw?) Easter bunny once Russell helped me out by bringing up all the baskets and Easter grass. So despite all the drama we had a lovely meal and I got out of doing any more dishes for a while.

Not having the foresight to become ambidextrous my kitchen time will be somewhat curtailed until I heal a bit. Obviously I can type, but gripping a knife or hefting a heavy pot aren’t things I can manage right now. So I’m catching up on some reading and watching a few of my favorite movies again. The good news is the Easter season is six weeks long so I have time to work on those recipes.

Until then here’s what I’m enjoying:

Do you have any recommendations?

Photo Credits:

Maundy Thursday Agape Meal by our Deacon Eric Elley

Sunrise by Shawn Allen

Flowering Cross by someone at St. John’s Episcopal Church

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Fèves Part 2

With epiphany eight days away I am getting out my fève collection and trying to decide which piece I will use in our King Cake* to celebrate the end of the Christmas season. A couple of years ago when I told our French exchange student Charline I was a bit of a “favophilie” (a person who collects fèves) so when she went home she sent me a box of fèves from Paul, a French bakery. I loved seeing the historical evolution of their delivery vehicles rendered in porcelain with one very small slice of pie. While Paul and Ladureé both have stores in America I’m not sure they carry fèves in their shops on this side of the pond. This company in Lyon sells quite a few different sets (including naughty fèves!!!). I have not purchased anything from them so I can’t attest one way or another to how they are with overseas sales. If anyone has ordered from them I’d love to hear about your experience. There also seem to be several folks selling fèves on Etsy and eBay.

Paul Bakery feves

What surprises me is that in France, a country known for its King’s cakes, the fève of choice (at least according to my friend Alexis) is often a cartoon or tv character. I feel like such a fuddy-duddy saying I’d rather have one of the three wise men or baby Jesus in my slice of cake instead of a porcelain dinosaur, duck, or wizard. I wonder what Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar would say?

funny feves

“Bonne Fête des Rois”

*Here is a French video on how to make a Galette de Roi

Here’s my previous post on fèves.

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Raspberries, Napkin Rings and Crackers with Cream Cheese and Jelly

Mountain Day

Last Thursday was Mountain Day at Smith College. How do I know? Was I wandering the streets of Northampton when the bells began to ring? Did I happen to be in an apple orchard in a nearby farm which was suddenly overrun by Smithies? No, it was much more mundane. I received an email from the president informing all alumni she’d given student and faculty the day off. I didn’t give myself the day off, though I was tempted. Instead i took some time to enjoy a view of the hills from behind the town library. My own Mountain Day moment.

It’s funny the things you remember about college. With our eldest daughter in her freshman year at University of New Haven I’ve been thinking about my alma mater often. Especially the quirky little food memories which have stuck with me for more than a quarter of a century.

napkin ring

Every Thursday night Smith would serve us a family style dinner by candlelight, complete with linen napkins and tablecloths. I loved those cloth napkins and so did my mother. She was so entranced with the tradition she got me my very own cloisonné napkin holder. The cloth napkins took a little getting used to since unlike paper napkins where you use and dispose of them after every meal our linen napkins had to last us for a week. If it became too grubby you could put them in the napkin hamper, then use paper until the following Thursday when you got a fresh cloth napkin. We even had our own individual napkin cubbies in the dinning hall.

Smith’s food was what we referred to as “grade A institutional food”. Great food considering it was made in such large quantities, but by no means home cooking. Every so often I’d go on the hunt for something that wasn’t made for 100+ students or that was rare enough to be a considered an out-of-dining-hall treat. One fall, around this time of year, one of my best friends Jim Ferguson and I were wandering around the farmer’s market in Amherst, Massachusetts. As much as I loved Smith, it was nice to occasionally get off campus and cross the river to visit Ferg and his friends at Amherst College. One booth was selling small boxes of what were probably the last of the fall raspberries. We bought two. Half a pint of heavy cream, two bowls, and two spoons later we locked ourselves in Ferg’s room. No sharing. No talking. Just gobbling fresh raspberries swimming in heavy cream. One small box each. It was perfect.

Raspberries and heavy cream

I’m sure many of the meals we ate were amazing, after all with Julia Child and Charlotte Turgeon as two of our illustrious alums college dining services had something to aspire to. The funny thing is it isn’t the fancy food I recall (and still eat) but the simplest. It is the humblest of desserts. Probably something thrown together when the cooks were just so tired of feeding us they wanted to weep and throw their ladles in the soup. And we loved it. We acted like a bunch of hungry sharks circling around a hurt fish. It required no cooking and no prep. Are you ready? Cream cheese, Ritz Saltine crackers and jelly. If you think about it it’s almost like a deconstructed cheesecake. Don’t believe me about how good this is? I dare you to try it.

Crackers, cream cheese and jam

What are your favorite college food memories?

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