A Surprisingly Simple Meal

Our summer cooking consists mostly of grilled goods, as I can’t abide a live oven or stove-top in the summer. Luckily, Andy is a grill master, so he fires the shiny metal thing up, and I’m free to concentrate on marinades and skewers and neatly folded packets of aluminum foil. I’ll grill just about anything once, to try it, and some notable successes have been corn-on-the-cob (somehow much more flavorful when the golden rows aren’t leeched by a vat of boiling water) and wedges of cabbage (slathered with butter and garlic salt and pepper). In both instances, the vegetables benefited from not having their flavor sucked out by water or steam.

Of course, the grill is used mostly for meats and fish, and for this dish I marinated a couple of chicken breasts overnight in a mixture of soy sauce, balsamic vinegar, olive oil, sesame oil, worcestershire sauce, brown sugar, a few cloves of minced garlic, a dash of fresh grated ginger, and freshly-ground black pepper. You can’t go wrong with those ingredients, and the proportions are as you like them. (Generally one part of the soy sauce, vinegar, olive oil and sugar, and less of the sesame oil and worcestershire sauce.) The mark of a good recipe, for this non-chef, is how forgiving it can be – and this one is very much so.

For the quinoa, I followed the instructions of a friend and simply cooked a batch in the rice cooker, then added olive oil, fresh parsley, salt, and pepper. The broccolini was equally easy, but I’ll include the online recipe for accuracy since it came out so well. (This too seems like a pretty forgiving one, but lemon can sometimes seem deceptively innocent, and zest especially is no joke.)

Broccolini with Lemon Dressing 

Ingredients
1 pound broccolini
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt
Pinch of freshly ground black pepper

Directions
Wash and trim the broccolini and steam for 5 minutes, until it is crisp yet tender. Drain.
In a small bowl, whisk together the oil, zest, lemon juice, salt and pepper. Drizzle the dressing over the broccolini and toss to coat.
(Note: variations: 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper instead of black pepper or 3 tablespoons toasted hazelnuts chopped sprinkled on top.)

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The View from our Bedroom

Framing the bedroom window is the last gasp of this fountain bamboo, Fargesia nitida. This is the other half of the pair of plants I put in when we first purchased the house. As previously mentioned, this variety blooms once every hundred years, goes to seed, then promptly dies. As luck would have it, this marks its hundredth year, and it has, according to natural plan, gone to seed, so our view will soon be completely unobstructed. That’s not a good thing, as I love a bamboo in full leaf, and I’d grown particularly attached to this beautiful specimen. Such is the circle of life. I’ll save the seed again and see if I can’t start a new legacy to last another hundred years.

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Eyes of the Wolf

Meet the Wolf’s Eye Dogwood. A variegated version of the traditional Chinese dogwood (Cornus kousa), this one packs a double-cream wallop when in bloom. Quite honestly, I’d never been a big fan of variegated foliage until I saw one of these beauties in bloom. The effect was enchanting. I thought the foliage might subdue the power of the blooms, but instead it highlights them, not vying for affection but working in tandem to produce the airy results seen here. As for the leaves themselves, they are little works of art on their own, edged with a creamy border, then dappled with a soft wintergreen center. The look is one of cool elegance, ideal for when the summer kicks the temperatures up.

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The Watcher

We can get only so close to the baby robins.

But they are leaving the nest soon.

It goes so fast…

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Why I Don’t Need a Vacation

A lot of people tell me (usually when I’m complaining) what a charmed life I lead. Well, duh! I’ve never contended otherwise. I’m extremely lucky and blessed in many ways. But, despite the effortlessness I strive to portray, it’s not easy, and whether you want to admit it or not, I do work hard. The difference between me and many others, from what I can tell at least, is the way I approach the day. And this is a secret that is only a secret because I never thought much about it until a friend mentioned how it seemed like my life was so carefree and easy. Well, it’s not. No one would admit theirs is. But what I try to do is live each day as if I was on vacation.

A vacation need not be constituted by travel around the world or expensive hotels or catered dinners. For me, a vacation is a frame of mind. All the joy and exuberance I might outwardly muster is from this unconscious (up until now) effort to behave as if I was on perpetual vacation from the drudgery of life.

First off, when most of us are on vacation we don’t care what other people think – mostly because we’ll likely never see them again. In far-off lands and foreign climes, we let our guard down because we’re relatively safe in assuming that the people we encounter won’t be following us back to the workplace or the Thanksgiving Dinner table. There’s safety and security, and more than a little freedom, in anonymity.

Second, we wear crazy and fun outfits when we’re on vacation – whether that’s in more relaxed beach garb, or fanciful formal couture for dressy dinners. We dig out the cocktail dress or the bow tie, we try out hats that we never would have looked twice at when home. Some guys might even squeeze into a Speedo on a beach outside of America. It’s the time and place when we dare to be what we’ve always wanted to be, and it’s all okay because we think what happens on vacation stays outside of real life, and judgment, and criticizing homeland eyes.

Third, on vacation we splurge and treat ourselves to things we normally wouldn’t. Whether that’s dessert, or an expensive piece of jewelry, or an extra cocktail, we relax and indulge. We take the time to pamper ourselves, to give in to the pleasurable impulse, to seize the day. And through that, the important things suddenly come to the forefront, and when you realize what really matters in life, it makes everything that much easier.

Finally, we learn to relax and let go of the trivial things that bother us every other day of the year. Strict schedules bend and sway, tight rules break and unbind, and rigid countenances melt away. We laugh a little easier, we look with a little more wonder, we stop sweating the small stuff. What was initially a physical, concrete form of change and transformation takes on a mental and emotional aspect too. A vacation doesn’t just change your outer surroundings, it changes the inner workings too.

If you think I lead a charmed life, it’s probably no more charming than yours – I’ve just learned to treat it a little differently. Yes, there are costs to such a lifestyle (American Express can back me up on that), but for peace of mind, for happiness and contentment, well, it’s worth it. There’s enough sadness and anger and insanity in this world. Why begrudge yourself a little fun in the midst of such madness? Take a vacation – starting today, and starting again on Monday, and Tuesday, and Wednesday… and …

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Hazy Shade of Summer

On certain summer afternoons, when the sun is slanting just so, and the breeze is warm but not hot, there is a feeling of ripeness and ethereal wonder. Through eyes hazy with sun and chlorine, the light dances on the water, bending through the banded zebra grass or alighting on the shiny chrome of a ladder.

The sun, after enchanting you all day, can be a dangerous thing. It plays tricks on the senses, lulling and deceiving, in conspiracy with the water, as it laps at your skin, seductively calling you to play. Why would you ever refuse? It’s impossible to say no to summer.
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I Absolutely Do Not Loathe Hydrangeas

Unlike a certain someone, I absolutely love hydrangeas, even if they don’t always love me back. Our soil is not quite acidic enough to uniformly color these beauties deep blue, so they vacillate between purple and pink, especially as they mature. Some days, though, if the light is just right, and the sky is helping tilt them in the right direction, they’ll appear the closest to blue they’ll ever get. (By the way, you can nudge them into the blue region by modifying the soil to the acidic side. Many myths exist as to how best do this – coffee grounds, rusty nails in the soil, a diluted sulphuric solution – all go towards bringing out the blue in some hydrangeas.)

This variety is the now-ubiquitous ‘Endless Summer’ hybrid that blooms on new wood. Many hydrangeas only bloom on old wood, and if you have particularly punishing winters as we do in upstate New York, you can’t count on the buds surviving. Varieties like ‘Endless Summer’ provide blooms every year, so you need not worry so much when the winter turns harsh.

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Loud as a Lychnis

It is one of the smallest flowers in the garden right now, but due to its color it’s one of the loudest. (I can relate.) Refusing to be ignored, the flaming magenta hue of this Lychnis floats atop a much quieter puff of gray-green wooly foliage. While I’m not a fan of its structure (leaves low to the ground, long stems, flowers floating aloft), the color alone (and its re-seeding prowess) has kept it in the garden for a number of years.

This is one of those flowers that illustrates the power of color, and how the bold ones advance while softer ones retreat. I can always spot the first lychnis bloom, no matter how seemingly hidden by tall grasses and unruly wisteria vines it may be.

As I mentioned, I’m not a fan of its form. There’s a lot of middle space between the foliage and the blooms that remains empty. Some consider this look appealing, I myself do not. It gives it a bit of a gangly, weedy air.

But for that kind of color, I’ll compromise.

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Keen on Quinoa

My latest culinary obsession is quinoa. It’s a grain that can be cooked in the same manner as rice, but for this recipe it was amended with much more. Fresh red peppers and a red onion imbue some purple and red to the scene, while the fresh cilantro packs a vital punch. Black beans lend the dish a heartier aspect, making this enough of a light meal on its own. I like it for summer, as it’s meant to be served chilled (and the cool down time in the refrigerator allows for all the flavors to meld and bleed into one another). Recipe follows.

Black Bean & Quinoa Salad With Cilantro Lime Vinaigrette

Ingredients:

1 (15 ounce) can black beans
3 cups quinoa, cooked (about 1 cup uncooked makes 3 cups cooked!)
1 red pepper, chopped
1 red onion, minced
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
3 tablespoons lime juice
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon agave nectar (or some other natural sweetener)
1/3 cup olive oil
1 teaspoon cumin
salt & pepper

Directions:
Cook Quinoa as directed on package (a rice cooker works well). While Quinoa is cooking, place Cilantro, lime juice, red wine vinegar, agave, olive oil, cumin, salt and pepper in a blender or food processor and pulse. [I just chopped the cilantro and whisked it all together instead of setting up the food processor.]
Toss finished Quinoa in a large bowl with black beans, red pepper, and onion.
Pour cilantro lime vinaigrette over Quinoa salad and let marinate for at least 30-45 minutes. It can be refrigerated or served lukewarm.

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Twinny Dipping

My Mom brought the twins over for a Sunday afternoon cookout by the pool. They rode the inflatable lounger and dodged alligators and mermaids. They watched the baby robins from a safe distance and ate fresh pineapple. They went on a garden tour and remembered the name of the dogwood tree. In all, it was a perfect day by the pool.

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Give My Gun Away When It’s Loaded

I woke up at 4:30 this morning.

There’s not much to do when it’s 4:30 in the morning.

Well, there’s tons to do, but none of it is very interactive, none of it very inclusive.

It’s the best time to do something.

I walk into the backyard, which for the first time in a long time is warmer than the house at this time of the day. I take a few pictures of the pool in the earliest light. It might double as dusk if it wasn’t so quiet. Even the birds are subdued at this early hour.

I search the line of pines high against the sky, and behind a dying one I see it. The moon. Remnants of its super-version a couple of days ago remain. It nestles in the crook between brightening sky and silhouetted tree. I don’t think I’ve seen the moon at 4:30 in the morning, at least not on this continent. Endless summer nights in Russia and Finland come to mind, a bride arriving by boat across the lake, walking beneath branches of birch that we all held aloft. A lake-side cottage I shared with my mother. The burning stones of a sauna, and a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop.

There was a statue of bears at the bottom of the hill, and a castle of stone that had stood forever, is standing there still, will be standing there long after we have all departed. The bold strokes of Sibelius fill my mind, memories of a tyrannical conductor explaining the piece of music like a carriage pulled by wild horses through a winter forest.

How strange that the morning moon should bring me half a world away, and back so many years. Whatever that boy wanted to find on the steps of all those castles, in the trampled forest paths, in a dark lake beneath a sky of stars – I still don’t know what it was.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The birds are up now. The family of robins is back on alert, chirping and warning and feeding. The moon has gone, back behind the pines, lost in the brighter sky, the high clouds. I listen for the first airplane of the day, wish that I was on it, going somewhere, anywhere. A change of scenery. Even on its most beautiful mornings, summer inspires that.

Calling back and forth, the robins break the day. Other birds join in the chatter. The silence is gone but the stillness remains. The hanging ferns that spun so wildly in last night’s breeze are motionless. The fountain grass, already head-high, stands still, its banners of green no longer fluttering in the wind. Even the loftiest branches of the pines, usually swaying ever-so-slightly in the smallest shift of air, do not betray movement.

What a precarious place to be… 4:47 in the morning, when thoughts are so pure and clear. Those who people your mind at such a time are the ones who will haunt you.

But who has a claim on anyone?

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