A Taste of Frankenstorm

 

Monday, October 29, 2012 – A Taste of Frankenstorm

Rain started during the night.  So far, it’s just moderate rain with a little wind.  From time to time, our sump pump comes on.  We’ll be inside all day today so there’s no point in getting dressed in “real” clothes.  If (when) the power goes out, I’ll light some candles, make some tea (using the gas stove), and cozy up to my fully-charged Kindle Fire until bedtime.  Before that, maybe we’ll have a neighborhood get-together to feast on all of our perishable food.  

That reminds me – there are two kinds of neighbors.  On one side of my house, I have the good neighbors.  We celebrate birthdays together, bring over soup when someone is sick, help out with rides, etc.  On the other side, I have the – well, other neighbors.  It isn’t that they’re evil; they’re just oblivious.  Here’s the most recent example:  At the end of last week, when it was clear Frankenstorm was headed our way, the news reporters were warning homeowners to clear the leaves from the storm drains prior to the heavy downpours.  So on Saturday I went out with my rake and cleared out the leaves and muck.  My good neighbors had done the same to their storm drain earlier in the day.  But on the other side of my house, the storm drain was still full.  As long as I was out there raking, I went ahead and continued until I’d cleared that storm drain, too.  It just seemed like a neighborly thing to do.  I didn’t want to see any water backing up anywhere on the street. 

Well, the rain started on Sunday night, and when I went out to pick up the newspaper at 7 on this morning, I went to check to see how the water was flowing through the storm drains.  Surprise!  Instead of a river running through my storm drain, I saw a lake next to my driveway.  That other neighbor had raked all the leaves from his yard and piled a mountain of them into the storm drain in front of his house, creating a dam.  Solution?  Instead of immediately pounding on their door and berating them for their idiocy, I waited until the light went on in their kitchen and made a polite phone call to inform them of the situation. 

Maybe, hopefully, someday, they’ll turn into good neighbors, but I’m not overly optimistic.  After they moved in a couple of years ago, they must have done some bathroom remodeling, because three toilets appeared in their backyard, as if they were some exotic plants or sculptures.  They stayed out there for months.  And when it was time to plan Elliott’s 100^th birthday party, we didn’t think our guests would appreciate the toilet view during the festivities.  Elliott had to make a personal request for them to remove the ceramic pieces (which they did, to their credit).  But as you can see, there’s not much reason to expect a transformation of these particular neighbors.  And needless to say, they will not be joining us for the Frankenstorm party. 

Anticipation

 

Saturday, October 27, 2012 – Anticipation

We’re making preparations to our trip to Arizona, with our departure scheduled for next Wednesday, Elliott’s health permitting.  Or perhaps I should say weather permitting because we’re also preparing for Frankenstorm, the inauspiciously named weather event that is predicted to affect our area starting on Sunday.  The likelihood of heavy rain, strong winds, flooding, etc. has definitely complicated our plans. 

We scrambled to reschedule our Monday activities for Saturday, so we’ve already done our early voting.  Katie voted, too.  She can’t remember what I told her five minutes ago, but in this election, every vote is important. The afternoon was devoted to storm preparation.  This involved moving trash cans, lawn chairs, flower pots, wind chimes, and the bird feeder to areas out of reach of the storm’s fury.  I got out the rake and cleared the leaves out of the storm drains.  Elliott and I worked together to repair some torn screens.  We’ve located flashlights, candles, batteries and a phone that will work if the power goes out. 

Actually, it’s a foregone conclusion that we’ll lose power.  Whenever we get strong winds, trees and limbs come crashing down, taking power lines with them.   My prediction is that we’ll lose power sometime on Monday.  An imminent power outage triggers a frenzy of eating, as everything in the freezer and refrigerator must be consumed.  Mushroom ravioli, falafel, Swedish meatballs and chickenless nuggets would make a strange meal, but that’s what’s on the menu for Sunday night.  Thankfully, I can count on Elliott to finish up the two containers of ice cream all by himself.  And instead of waiting a couple of days to do laundry, I’d better start on Sunday morning or we’ll be packing dirty clothes to take to Arizona. 

And speaking of our trip, I sure hope the weather won’t interfere with our travel plans.  Elliott has been feeling better, with his back pain relatively under control, for the past few days.  He’s really looking forward to getting away, as am I, especially since we had to cancel the September trip to California.  But we’ll just have to wait and see what happens during the next 72 hours. 

A Spicy Night

 

Tuesday, October 23, 2012 – A Spicy Night

While the candidates were slugging it out at Monday night’s debate, I was creating another spicy Indian feast at Woodson High School.  This culinary adventure took me to the southern part of the subcontinent, specifically to the states of Karnataka and Kerala on the western coast.  According to Devaki Das, my instructor (a hybrid Indian herself), this region of the country has the oldest and purest cuisine, dating back 3000 years, since its cooking traditions weren’t influenced by foreigner invaders (as was the case in the northern part of the country).   She brought in a vast array of spices, which we roasted and puréed into masalas, filling the kitchen with tantalizing aromas.  The first dish we made, Bisi Bele Huliyana, is considered a hallmark of Karnataka cooking.  In essence, it’s the ultimate comfort food, a mixture of rice, toor dal (split pigeon peas), vegetables and seasonings, simmered until it attains the consistency of oatmeal.  “Huliyana” refers to a particular spice mixture, which features channa dal (split Indian chickpeas), urad dal (split black gram), cardamom, cloves, cinnamon, red chili, coconut, cumin, coriander, fenugreek, mustard seed, and peppercorns.  At the last minute, we added peanuts sautéed in ghee (clarified butter).  We also dipped poppadoms into hot oil for a few seconds to produce big crispy chips, which we crumbled on top of the Bisi Bele Huliyana to add texture.  On a chilly evening, nothing could be more satisfying.  I brought home a big helping, with the hope that I might tempt Elliott into sharing it with me. 

For our representative dish from Kerala, we made Tellicherry Pepper Chicken.  Tellicherry is the anglicized name of the city that is the home of the famous black peppercorns.  This was a relatively simple dish to prepare.  Its masala (spice mixture) was a blend of peppercorns, powdered red chilies, turmeric, cumin seeds, garlic, ginger and salt, to which we added enough water to make a thick gravy in which the chicken simmered.  All we had to do was to add sautéed onions and curry leaves to the pot, and we had a quick and tasty dish, which we ate with rice.  (No naan in this part of India.)  I think Elliott would enjoy the flavors, so I brought home enough for him to try it. 

When we get back from Arizona, I’ll have to make a trip to the Indian grocery store for curry leaves, tamarind concentrate, asafetida, and all of the other ingredients I don’t normally keep in the kitchen.  In addition, I’ll have to get a Magic Bullet.  This small but powerful food processor is my teacher’s secret weapon for turning out those finely ground spice mixtures.  By the way, you can check out her website: http://www.weavethousandflavors.com/

I realize now that the food I’ve been eating (and enjoying) in Indian restaurants barely scratches the surface of Indian cuisine.  This coming winter, I plan to do a lot of Indian cooking at home.  So if you like Indian food, let me know so you can come over to cook and eat with me. 

At dinnertime tonight, I offered to share my leftovers from last night’s class with Elliott.  After taking a little nibble of the hybrid meal I assembled (the rice-vegetable dish from Karnataka, the chicken from Kerala, plus my own non-Indian salad), he decided to stick to the food he knows and loves.  Fortunately, we’d picked up some of his favorite Norwegian gjetøst (goat cheese) at Whole Foods earlier in the day.  

My hybrid meal of leftovers

Elliott's Norwegian gjetøst (goat cheese)

A Learning Experience

 

Saturday, October 20, 2012 – A Learning Experience

The periodic table of the elements has obviously grown since I sat in Miss Newman’s chemistry class nearly half a century ago at West Hempstead High School.  (Where did all of those new elements come from?)  My high school chemistry teacher was one of those legendary figures that terrorizes her students.  I spent hours and hours doing the homework she assigned and studying for impossibly hard tests.  My grades in her class were the lowest grades I’ve ever received in my academic history.  But I must have learned some chemistry, as evidenced by my passing the end-of-course New York State Regents Exam with flying colors.  Chemistry was not my favorite subject, and at the end of that school year, I gladly freed up hundreds of brain cells to store facts that I found more interesting. 

Now, however, after subbing for a chemistry teacher at AHS yesterday, I will proudly exhibit my newfound (or newly rediscovered) knowledge of the subject.  First of all, I can tell you the distinguishing characteristics of metals, semi-metals, and non-metals.  I know that semi-metals are also called metalloids.  I’ve acquired a new word in my vocabulary:  ductile (able to be stretched into a wire).  This is a physical property of metals.  And there are 7 diatomic elements, which means they’re always never alone.  Of course, I learned much, much more than I can possibly share here.

Impressed?  I certainly was.  If I could gain all of this information from one 90-minute class (that I repeated three times), think of all I could learn over the course of a year!  This just confirms that I have a serious addiction to learning.  It’s been one of the defining characteristics of my whole life.  That’s why teaching was so satisfying for me, and why subbing is turning out to be an important activity in my retirement.  While I feel right at home in an ESOL or history classroom, I’m looking forward to opportunities to sub for less familiar subjects, such as physics, which I never took.  And I’ll even get paid for learning!  What could be better? 

In a Bengali Kitchen

 

Tuesday, October 16, 2012 – In a Bengali Kitchen

I’m always on the lookout for new food adventures.  So when the FCPS Adult Education catalog came in the mail last month, cooking was the first section I turned to.  As usual, there was a wide array of classes, ranging from Italian and Greek to bread making and cake decorating.  If you want to learn how to make dim sum or paella, there’s a class just for you.  But I knew right away which class I would take:  Curry in a Hurry.  The description for the 2-session class promised an exploration of India’s diverse culinary traditions.  Here was a chance to expand my knowledge beyond the basics of Indian cuisine.  As I drove over to Woodson High School for class last night, I was thinking  about the food I’ve sampled at local Indian restaurants and wondering which regions of India they came from.  Masala dosa, I’m pretty sure, is from the southern part of India.  But how about dhal makhni and pongal and all of those heavenly vegetable creations? 

It turned out that our instructor introduced me to a regional cuisine I’d never encountered before, i.e. the cooking of Bengal in the eastern part of India.  While we sipped chai from Styrofoam cups, she demonstrated three typical dishes from Bengal:  a fish dish with potatoes in a rich tomato and onion gravy; shrimp and bottle gourd (a vegetable resembling an enormous pale zucchini) cooked with a mixture of whole spices; and an sweet and spicy tomato and date chutney.  Although I have quite a collection of Indian spices at home, I learned about ingredients I’d never cooked with before:  ghee, white poppy seeds, mustard oil and panch-phoron, a lively mixture of five whole spices.  I also learned how to make the characteristic Bengali garam masala, which consists of cloves, cinnamon, and cardamom, in equal parts.  

Working in groups of four, the members of the class recreated all three dishes in the student kitchen area.  Meanwhile, our instructor cooked a big pot of rice to accompany our food.  Afterwards, we set out a buffet and feasted.  Despite the late hour, I was an enthusiastic participant.  The flavors were absolutely delicious and so unusual.  It was nothing like the Indian food I’ve eaten in restaurants. 

Of course, we couldn’t go home until we’d cleaned up the kitchen.  This type of cooking used more pots, pans, utensils, and pieces of equipment than any cooking I’ve done since last Thanksgiving.  It was after 10 p.m. when I finally packed up containers of leftovers, took off my apron, and transported myself back home from Bengal.  Already, I’m eagerly anticipating the regional Indian cuisine we’ll discover at next week’s class.

 

Ups and Downs

Saturday, October 13, 2012 - Ups and Downs

Elliott’s health is constantly changing.  A few days of relative comfort often come to an end with a surprise flash of pain.  He had some of those “down” days recently.  Last Saturday, the pain seemed to come out of nowhere.   By Tuesday, he was on the upward trajectory, following another injection, this time into his sacro-iliac joint.  This meant that I was able to leave, as planned, on my trip up to Mountain Mama in West Virginia on Wednesday morning. 

I love the drive heading west from Fairfax County, despite the heavy traffic on Route 66.  Not far from home, the Blue Ridge Mountains appear in the distance.  The landscape of the Shenandoah Valley becomes hillier and more rural.  There is no very direct route from Fairfax to Davis, WV, where Eleanor’s house is located.  Along both sides of the road, we looked out at wide expanses of farms with grazing cows.  The hillsides were studded with trees in a dazzling array of fall colors.  Soon we were driving up winding switchbacks, and our ears were popping from the altitude.  For mile after mile, no towns were in sight.  This is still coal country.  Nowadays, most of the coal companies are engaged in strip mining, which involves leveling mountaintops and results in a scarred landscape.  After about 2 ½ hours on the road, we stopped for lunch in Davis, a little town with a strip of shops along its single main road.  

Mountain Mama, Eleanor's house in WV

Another view of Mountain Mama

Our last stop before reaching the house was at the spring, where we filled up plastic jugs with fresh, clear mountain water.  Clouds were starting roll in when we pulled up the steep unpaved road to Mountain Mama, Eleanor’s chalet in the woods.  Although it was officially a girls’ getaway, Eleanor had brought along a token male – General Eisenhower.  Ike, a four-pound, 13-week old bundle of fluff, is a sheltie puppy.  I’m not a dog person, but I found him extremely adorable despite the fact that he isn’t housebroken yet.  (Don’t worry, Elliott, I’m not going to rush out and get a puppy.) 

Fresh clear water from the mountain

 

After several hours in the car, I thought of going for a walk, but the chilly temperatures and the overcast skies kept me inside.  From inside the house as well as from the deck, we had superb views of the vista stretching out in front of us.  And the eagle’s nest, a cozy room perched at the very top of a narrow spiral staircase, offered views in all four directions.  It could easily become my hideout. 

The view on an overcast afternoon

As the afternoon wore on, the clouds thickened and we found ourselves looking into a wall of gray.  Sharon sat and knitted.  Eleanor and I, using our limited camping knowledge, tried to build a fire in the fireplace.  Obviously, neither one of us would survive in the wilderness.  However, this was not a problem since the house had a heating system. 

I woke up the next morning to a wonderful surprise – a pristine blue sky.  As I sipped my green tea, the sun was rising over the mountaintop, setting the trees ablaze.  I stepped out onto the deck to a dazzling sight of shimmering amber, copper, crimson, and gold.  By the time I finished breakfast, full-throated sun was pouring through the windows.  The rolling landscape had emerged from the night’s blanket of shadows.  Proud evergreens crowned each wave of hills.  Temperatures were still hovering around the freezing mark, but I was prepared with sweater, sweatshirt, jacket and scarf.  Today nothing was going to keep me inside. 

The view on a clear morning

Along the main road

Shortly after nine a.m., I ventured outside to explore.  The wind stung my face, a feeling I hadn’t experienced in several months.  But the steady sunshine kept me comfortable.   From Mountain Mama, I walked down the mountain to the main road.  There were few cars, but the ones that passed me were going at least 60 mph, which was a little unnerving.  Mostly, however, it was still and quiet.  The ground was covered with fallen leaves, some still rimmed with frost, other sporting big, fat glistening dew drops.  The trek back up to the house took about twice as long as the downhill walk, and I had to stop a couple of times to catch my breath.  All together, I must have walked for about an hour. 

The rest of the day, until mid-afternoon, was one of those lazy, do-nothing stretches of time.  Finally, around 3 p.m., the temperature had risen to about 50 degrees, and Eleanor herded us into the car for a tour of the area.  Canaan Valley, at an elevation of 3200 feet, is the highest valley east of the Mississippi River (thanks, Eleanor, for that bit of information). We drove through the “town” of Canaan Valley in about 3 seconds.  It’s even smaller than Davis.  Out in the middle of the farmland, we stopped at Ben’s Barn, a sprawling weaving studio and shop.  Mostly, we just enjoyed being outside on this glorious fall day.  The sky remained a flawless blue, the air stayed crystal clear, and the hillsides looked like they’d been liberally sprinkled with spices – chili powder, paprika, and turmeric.

As gorgeous as the scenery was during the daytime, the most spectacular sight was the sky at night.  I’ve lived most of my life in cities and suburbs, and I pride myself on being able to pick out one or two of the better known constellations, such as Orion.  From the deck of Eleanor’s house on top of the mountain, I was awestruck when I looked up into the densely star-studded night sky.  I could easily understand how prehistoric people spun fantasies, stories and legends when they gazed towards the heavens at night. 

After we returned from dinner out that second night, we tried again to build a fire in the fireplace.  Failure again.  Note to self:  must practice this at home.  I fell into bed feeling tired but healthy.  When light came through the window, I awoke to find gentle ribbons of dawn stretched over the mountaintops to the east.  After a quick breakfast, we bid farewell to Mountain Mama.  Eleanor won’t return again until springtime, when there’s no chance of encountering snow-covered roads.  

Blackwater Falls

Eleanor (with Ike) and Sharon

All of us were ready for adventures on our way back home.   Our first stop on the homebound journey was just a few minutes away at Blackwater Falls State Park, for a view of the twin waterfalls.  Next, we stopped in Thomas, WV, an old lumber town on the banks of the Blackwater River.  We parked the car and walked along the somewhat faded main street to browse in an antique store and a shop featuring crafts by contemporary West Virginia artists.  Back on the highway, we were once again out in the wide open spaces.  The landscape had a barren feeling, and then the enormous equipment of a coal-loading facility appeared, looking like a crazy Rube Goldberg contraption on steroids.  Then, once again, there was emptiness until the steam from the Mt. Storm Power Station came into view.  Big thick puffs of white chugged into the blue sky, then were carried sideways by the stiff winds.  We drove up to the facility’s security gate, hoping to get a tour of the power plant.  Not available, we were told by the security guard, who wouldn’t even allow us to take photos while we were on the property.  However, we drove the other side of the cooling lake and managed to get a few shots of the facility that supplies power to much of northern Virginia.  It was also a good vantage point for viewing the three-armed windmills lined up on the rise of the adjacent hills.  Up close, they’re much bigger than I ever imagined.  Their towering size belies their grace when spinning.  

Downtown Thomas, WV

Mt. Storm Power Station

As we made our slow descent down through the mountains, there were fewer bare trees and more fall color in the foliage.  The sloping hillsides were patchworks of brilliant hues and richly textured greens.  We stopped for a lunch break in Wardensville, WV, and found that the temperature was noticeably warmer than at the higher elevations.  By the way, I would not recommend West Virginia as a destination for a food tour.  Basic, solid country food is how I would describe what we found (and we avoided chain restaurants).  One standout, however, was the pie at the restaurant in Wardensville – homemade, apple and berry filling, not overly sweet, and with an oatmeal crumble topping.  I brought a piece home for Elliott. 

Elliott was excited to see me.  In fact, just as I turned onto my street around 4 p.m., my cell phone was ringing.  It was Elliott calling to ask when I’d be back.  He managed quite well in my absence and I want to thank my wonderful neighbors for putting my mind at ease.  I know they are always willing to help, if necessary.  This short trip away from home was very restorative for me.  It was just long enough to push the daily concerns out of my mind.  Equally important, it gave me the opportunity to have meaningful conversations with women friends.  And it’s a reminder that the whole country doesn’t look like the suburbs of Washington, DC.  I wouldn’t be tempted to have a second home up in the mountains of West Virginia, but a simple little cabin about an hour away, where there are hills and barns and bales of hay, wouldn’t be bad. 

Keeping up with Elliott

Tuesday, October 9, 2012 - Keeping up with Elliott
 

We’re keeping the medical establishment in business with four doctors’ appointments in two days for Elliott.  He’d been feeling so good, and then out of nowhere, problems with his back and leg started on Sunday.  Since then, he’s been miserable.  The pain doctor gave him an injection today, but it won’t bring immediate relief.  And while this was going on, Elliott also had his fourth post-op appointment with his eye surgeon.  It turns out that his eyes are still infected so he’s back on a full-scale antibiotic regimen (oral, eye drops, and eye ointment).  The good news?  His pulmonologist says his lungs sound great! 

Also on Sunday, both of our printers died, and we went out to buy a replacement.  The new machine prints, copies, scans, and faxes.  I am so proud of my accomplishments:  I set it up as a network printer, and I learned how to send a fax.  It really came in handy today after I applied online to George Mason University (so I can audit a course or two in the spring semester).  I never realized I’d have to go through the long online application process, which involves getting official transcripts sent from every college or university I’ve ever attended.  I managed to fax transcript requests to three different schools.  Fortunately, GMU didn’t require me to submit an official transcript of my GMU work.  Now I’ll have to start working on Elliott’s application.

I guess I had a productive Sunday, because I also tried a muffin recipe that I found in a vegan cookbook.  It’s not easy to come up with a recipe that’s vegan, low-carb, sugar-free – and edible.  But my oatmeal-applesauce muffins weren’t bad at all, especially with a dab of peanut butter.  I’d like to experiment with more muffin baking, so please send me any “healthy” recipes that you have.  (They don’t have to be vegan.) 

It’s time to do a little packing.  Wednesday morning, I’m heading out to West Virginia for a brief ladies trip to the mountain home of my friend, Eleanor.  Elliott will be on his own for a couple of days.  I’ve told him – no wild parties while I’m gone. 

A Tasty Weekend

 

Sunday, October 7, 2012 – A Tasty Weekend

After subbing at AHS on Thursday and Friday, I needed to treat myself to a few indulgences this weekend.  First was a Saturday visit to Taste of DC, an annual 3-day food and beverage festival held over the Columbus Day weekend.  It occupies five blocks along Pennsylvania Avenue in the heart of the city.  I’d been looking forward to this event eagerly for the past few weeks.  Over 50 restaurants from the DC area would be participating!  All would offer a least one “tasting” item for $3 or less.  How could I not go?  In fact, I’m not sure why I’d never managed to attend Taste of DC before.  This year, I wasn’t going to miss it.  Elliott wasn’t interested in accompanying me, so I decided to go on my own. 

To prepare myself for a higher than usual caloric intake, I chose to get off the Metro at a stop located a mile and a half from the festival site.  The brisk 30-minute walk from Foggy Bottom to Pennsylvania Avenue and 11^th Street burned up enough calories to offset whatever tasty delights I might consume.  Abundant sunshine and summery temperatures made it a delightful day for a walk through the city although I had to dodge the hordes of camera-toting tourists when my route took me near the White House.  But the fan-shaped gingko leaves fluttering down from the trees reminded me that fall has definitely arrived.  

By the time I reached the festival entrance, I was ravenously hungry.  However, before I could eat anything, I had to survey all of the offerings.  There was no point in just wolfing down something ordinary like a slice of pizza or a spring roll.  The search for something new and unusual (and not deep-fried) was more challenging than I had anticipated.  But when I got to Rosa Mexicano, I found my first taste-worthy item:  esquites shrimp, a warm and creamy corn “salad” topped with shrimp.  A few moments later, at different restaurant’s booth, I caught a glimpse of another intriguing item:  charred octopus with potato and red pepper confit.  The octopus was meltingly tender in my mouth.  Delicious.  Even though the portions were small, they were quite satisfying. But I wasn’t ready to stop yet.  In the area devoted to food trucks, I discovered Pepe, created by José Andrés.  For a mere $2, I sampled the super chef’s version of gazpacho.  This cold Spanish vegetable soup is one of my summertime staples.  The verdict?  I prefer my own recipe.  

Esquites Shrimp

Charred octopus with potatoes and red peppers

Now that I’d eaten a fairly healthy meal, I could add on a couple of extras.  I’d been thinking about something Asian to balance out the other cuisines I’d already tried.  I settled on pad thai, one of my all-time favorites, and had to choose from among half a dozen different Thai restaurants.  The $3 serving was so generous that I couldn’t even finish it.  Meanwhile, the sun had hidden behind some very dark clouds and the wind was whipping down Pennsylvania Avenue.  It looked like a storm was likely and I didn’t have an umbrella.  However, I needed a special sweet before I ended my tasting adventure, and I knew exactly what would fit the bill.  I hurried over to the CoCo Sala booth for a dessert that sounded irresistible:  Rose Raspberry Panna Cotta Parfait $3.  Absolutely divine, and the perfect finish.  Before a single drop of rain fell, I was in the Metro station and on my way back home.  

Rose Raspberry Panna Cotta

 

I stayed closer to home on Sunday, with the colder temperatures, gray skies, and frequent periods of rain.  But I managed to get out for lunch at Four Sisters, a wonderful Vietnamese restaurant in the neighborhood.  Green papaya salad and stir-fried tofu and vegetables with wide thick rice noodles – so many fabulous flavors, textures, and colors.  With all of this eating out, I haven’t been doing much cooking at home for the past couple of days.  I’m satisfied with a salad, and fortunately, Elliott has been quite content with simple meals.  Give him a package of Ritz crackers and a jar of peanut butter, and he’s a happy man!   Actually, with this fall weather, I’m eager to get some homemade soup simmering on the stove and some muffins baking in the oven.  

Green Papaya Salad with Tofu

Stir-fried tofu and vegetables over wide rice noodles

October Morning

 

Wednesday, October 3, 2012 – October Morning

It’s one of those mornings I love, when I can ignore the clock and get up when I feel ready because I don’t have to rush out of the house.  There is time to smell the spicy air after last night’s heavy downpour and to listen to the crunch of acorns as I walk down to pick up the newspaper at the end of the driveway.  The car is plastered with wet leaves, and soggy branches, broken off during the rainstorm, litter the yard.  Plump dewdrops glisten on cobwebs draped over the bushes.  I look up into a silvery mist tangled in the tree tops.  A cup of tea, a quick check of the news, and then a walk through the neighborhood should fit into my schedule quite nicely.  Later this morning, I’ll be off to school – not as a teacher, but as a student, accompanying my friend Eleanor to the class she’s taking at George Mason University.  (Free classes – one of the benefits of advanced age!) 

Back to Blogging

 

Tuesday, October 2, 2012 – Back to Blogging

I’m not quite sure what triggered my recent break from blogging.  It just didn’t seem like much was happening, except for the change in season.  In any event, I’m glad to be back at the keyboard.  A quick recap of the past week and a half follows. 

Celebrating Orly Day at Mon Ami Gabi (9/25/12)

On September 25, Elliott and I celebrated Orly Day, marking the start of our 30^th year together.  If you want the full story of how we met each other at Orly Airport in Paris, you’ll have to read the book.  (Portrait of Elliott, the story I wrote about Elliott’s life, remains unpublished, at Elliott’s request.  However, I’m planning to start writing another book, this one about our life in France from my perspective, and it will definitely include this romantic tale.)  Rather than flying off to Paris this year to celebrate, we went to lunch at a French restaurant in Reston, Mon Ami Gabi, where we feasted on classic French bistro fare:  steak frites and crème brulée.  The early fall weather was ideal, cool and sunny with a vivid blue sky, reminiscent of that fateful day in 1983 that changed the course of our lives.

Elliott has been getting stronger everyday, and he was certain that he was ready for a trek up to New York with me last Thursday.  We took the DC Tripper bus from Arlington, which gave us a tour through DC our way out of town, through the exclusive sections of Georgetown and then up Wisconsin Avenue, through Tenleytown, Friendship Heights and Bethesda.  This part of the journey stimulated some fanciful thinking about selling our house and moving into a condo where stores, metro and restaurants are within walking distance.  It’s certainly something to consider when we return.  But first, there was New York City to explore. 

We spent the first two days visiting Elisa and Christian on the Lower East Side. Actually, they were both working so we were left on our own during the day.  On Friday, while Elliott stayed on the Lower East Side, I joined my friend Gale for a rain-soaked morning walk through the Village.  Seeing Washington Square Park again brought back memories of my much younger days, i.e. the late 1960s, when I’d take the train into the city from Long Island and hang around the fountain, listening to guitar players, engulfed in a haze of marijuana smoke.  So much has changed since then.  

Our lunch destination was Taim, also one of Gale’s discoveries.  It’s a hole-in-the-wall falafel join on Waverly Place in the West Village.  We went specifically to try the Sabich (fried eggplant slices, various salads, hummus, and a hard-boiled egg, all stuffed into a pita).  They also have three different kinds of falafel.  Cash only, worth the trip.  With full bellies, we boarded the subway for a jaunt to the wilds of Brooklyn, new territory for both of us:  Dumbo (under the bridge), Brooklyn Heights, and Park Slope – all non-touristy areas, perfect for leisurely exploration.  

One of the biggest attractions of Lower East Side is the food.  I couldn’t leave without a stop at one my favorite snack places, Prosperity Dumpling on Clinton Street between Rivington and Stanton where $1.50 buys a quartet of veggie dumplings.  Thursday night’s dinner at Antibes Bistro, Friday night’s dinner at Souvlaki, and Saturday lunch at Remedy Diner on Houston – all within a few blocks of Elisa and Christian’s apartment – what a great neighborhood!  

A hour-long drive north brought us to a completely different world, Westchester County, where we spent two days with my brother and sister-in-law.  After a quiet Saturday evening, I spent a lovely Sunday morning lying in bed, looking up through the skylight as night slowly yielded to day.  Over the last few weeks, I’ve learned to treasure this early morning time when I awaken and allow myself the luxury of staying in bed these extra minutes, slipping in and out of sleep, harvesting dreams. 

Art was on the agenda for Sunday.  After a harrowing ride (thanks to my brother’s driving!) up the New York State Thruway and some winding mountain roads, we arrived at StormKing, a vast outdoor sculpture park.  I can’t adequately describe the effect of the massive modern sculpture so fully integrated into a beautiful natural landscape of over 500 acres.  It seemed like a playground for the gods.  It was impossible to take in all of the art, but I discovered exciting work by Henry Moore, David Smith, Mark de Suvero, Alex Liberman, Louise Nevelson, Maya Lin and many other artists.  On the day of our visit, puffy white clouds were creating changing forms in the intense blue sky and the maple trees were just starting to turn red.  I’d love to go back to Storm King, to experience it in every season. 

And then it was Monday, and time to return home.  Elliott amazed me by insisting that we walk from Grand Central Station to Penn Station (over a mile, with luggage), where we picked up our bus back to Virginia.  He certainly put to rest all of my doubts about his ability to travel.