Sassy Radish

I’m a little late to the auction part here. I blame vacation and unreliable internet connection and then I blame Irene. But mostly, I blame my overtired brain that couldn’t get it together. You know how when you go on vacation, suddenly your critical thinking just checks out? Yeah, so that happened.

At this point, I think, most of you who read food blogs have heard about my friend Jennie Perillo. And about how her husband suddenly passed away in early August, leaving her and the girls without much warning. I’ve tried to write a few times what a sudden impact that must feel like for Jennie, but truthfully I don’t know where to start. To say it is unfair, horrible, shocking; to scream at the sky; to explain that life works in mysterious ways – all these range from banal to insensitive. At the end of the day, Mikey, one of the best people I had the honor of knowing (however limited that time was) – is gone. All I can say is I was lucky to know him. We all were.

But what is here now, what is not gone is the sobering reality of financial burden. The mortgage in her husband’s name means Jennie might have to pay for the rest of it in one lump sum. When her husband’s health insurance runs out, a single monthly payment will be greater than her monthly mortgage payment now. Her apartment got flooded during Irene, adding to the financial burden Jennie is already facing.

Shauna said it best – that we all came together emotionally baking a Pie for Mikey. Now it’s time to act. To help. Maggy, Shauna, and Erika put together a fund raising event called A Fund For Jennie (twitter: #afundforjennie) on Maggy and Erica’s amazing non-profit Bloggers Without Borders.

Here’s my part. I’m offering a cooking class AND a one hour photo session of your choosing. TWO AUCTIONS – WHICH MEANS TWO POTENTIAL WINNERS. The cooking class will be one-on-one; take place in January/February of 2012 – and we can figure out what it is we will cook depending on what is in season (mmm — stews!). The photo session will probably be sometime in September/October (on a weekend day, provided it’s not horrible out) where I’ll do your portrait/lifestyle shoot with you (and your friends, loved ones, pets, etc). We can work those details out. You need to live in New York for either of these things to happen (sorry!).

THE DEETS: Silent auction – email your bid price to fundforjenniesassyradish@gmail.com – auction closes at 11:59 pm on Labor Day Monday (September 4th). In the subject heading please state WHICH of the auctions you’re bidding on. If you want to bid on both, please send TWO separate emails each corresponding with the auction you desire. Thank you!

I have no recipe for you today. Nothing to whet the appetite and nothing to get you excited to scurry into your kitchens. What I have for you is a simple hello. A wave from Southern Oregon where we’re staying at the moment. Today we’re going to visit Crater Lake. Yesterday, we left the redwoods in Northern California and my heart ached a little. Such trees! Such beauty! I felt so small, so insignificant – and it was humbling, liberating, glorious. I was an ant, surrounded by trees that were twenty feet wide and thousands of years old. What these trees have seen… The trees I’m seeing now, I think, “Well, someone’s an underachiever, I mean have you seen what a redwood has done? Why don’t you try growing a little wider, or taller, tree!”

We spent a few days in Northern California, which now has my heart. The trees, the fog, the brooding skies, the chill in the air – I love it all. That light, diffused through thick clouds and the mist – is some good photography light. Seriously.

Now we’re in Southern Oregon. At the moment, I’m sitting in bed, in our cabin, which, while modest, has all the accommodations we need. There’s even a coffee maker and I am drinking coffee in bed. How amazing is that? Our cabin is also meticulously clean and well-kept – in fact, it’s more impressive than the Palace Hotel where we spent the night in San Francisco after getting in at 3am PST. As I write, Andrew is sleeping to my right and he looks so peaceful, so comfortable, that I can’t wake him up yet. He is, in general, a very sweet sleeper, unlike me, where my face gets all scrunched up and I bury myself under the sheets and blankets. It’s vacation after all and if you can’t sleep in on your vacation, when can you sleep in?

We have been blessed with the most glorious and beautiful drives. Route 66, could you be any more stunning? Could you? I think not. As we were driving higher and higher into the mountains, Andrew said to me, “It’s like we’re in a movie!” – and all I could do is nod. The beauty of it all really renders you speechless. The views of mountains, hills, valleys, and rivers as far as the eye can see, distant mountains hazy and glowing in the sun, tiny cows dotting the horizon chewing peacefully in the distance.

I’ve been thinking, these past few days especially, on the importance of taking time off, about letting your mind rest, about living in the now. This is fresh coming from someone who is still working while on vacation and is actually checking email and writing this very post. But the thought of living in the moment has very much been at the foreground of my mind these past few weeks. I’m a planner by nature, a saver, a worrier. It’s part of my immigrant DNA, and I doubt I could ever fully shake it off. I suppose everything in moderation, which is why this trip is such a necessary thing.

Truthfully, were we a little more practical, we’d have chosen a less expensive journey. At the time, it seemed like a good idea, flights on points, SF and Portland hotels – also on points. But then the car rental cost factored in, and gas, and food, and x and y variables, and by the time all was said and done, we were hardly being frugal. But we decided to do it anyway. Not since last fall have we taken a proper vacation. And we needed one. And much as we plan for our future (and we should), all that we really have, all that we can really count on, is the now; the today.

And so I wanted to write this to you because, much as it sounds trite and saccharine, I feel that the importance of “today” cannot be diminished. We should give it our all, our undivided attention, our most. What that means for each of us will vary with our lives, priorities, abilities. Maybe it means taking a vacation (for us it did), or taking a long walk around your neighborhood or a park. Maybe it means running that race you’ve always wanted to do. Or learning to play an instrument, or taking a class. Or maybe it’s even less ambitious, but nonetheless important, just having a quiet night with a book or a movie.

Whatever it is, I hope it’s what you need and what you want. Us, we’re going to look at a giant lake. And sigh and wonder at nature’s creations. But that’s just today – tomorrow we’re in wine country, and you know that that means.

Friendships can start in the most esoteric of ways. Some friendships commence in early childhood; others – through mutual friends. Once, a cherry pitter led me to one of my best friends – Jennie.

I had accidentally ordered two cherry pitters, and when they arrived, I realized my mistake. Who needs two cherry pitters anyway? I tweeted about my accidental splurge, and Jennie tweeted back, with an offer to relieve me of such burden. After a few tweets, we agreed to meet for coffee. I brought the cherry pitter; she brought her award-winning tomato jam. By the end of our coffee date we both knew – our friendship was meant to be.

Continue reading peach crème fraiche pie with a thyme butter crust.

August, we will forever get along, no matter how hot and sticky you get, no matter what you throw my way, for what you bring with you is quite possibly my favorite summer thing – a tomato. And for that, I will always welcome you with open arms. No hot house tomato, no matter what kind, will ever approach the taste, texture, and fragrance of the real deal that arrives to farmers’ markets right about now and stays with us until late September.

To grasp a ripe summer tomato, heavy and warmed by the sun, to me, is the zenith of quotidian joys. The tomatoes I speak of are fragrant and are full of promise of a knee-weakening meal, sliced on a tomato sandwich, turned into a tomato crudo sauce, or slow-roasted and turned into myriad things.

Continue reading slow roasted tomatoes.

My darlings, you can take a girl out of New England, but you can’t take New England out of the girl. That I can say with the utmost certainty.

It’s been ten years since I called myself a Massachusetts resident. After college I planted my roots in New York, and stubbornly, because New York wasn’t always the gentle and welcoming city to me (is she to anyone?) made sure, day by day, month by month, that New York and I got along. I courted her, patiently growing to appreciate different neighborhoods, seeing the beauty where most tourists saw squalor, walking her streets. We had a slow and steady courtship, but I was playing it for keeps. New York, finally, opened her heart wide to me, and I to her.

Continue reading lobster rolls.