The house is chilly. I check the thermostat and find it’s 65. While someone on Facebook copped to turning on the heat for the first time ever in September, I use the oven today for heat. I resist the urge to wear a sweater, three quarter sleeve t-shirt and jeans, ballet flats, instead of short sleeve t, skirt, and sandals as far as I’ll go to acknowledge fall is in the air.
This morning I woke just after 6 feeling close to death, a dramatization, but the pain was bad. I had one of those migraines I used to get, sick headaches a good name for them..four hours later, I couldn’t imagine getting through the day, nausea, sensitivity to light, cold, movement, touch all laying me low on a day I hoped to get my act together, cook, shop, plan for a big party we’re having tomorrow, hang with my kids. Thank the good lord for Excedrin Migraine and a boyfriend who knows his medicine. I followed the useless early morning tylenol with a midmorning heavy dose, and soon was on to greener pastures, making frittata for the kids and me, first time since before Spain, chosen over Spanish Tortilla, which my daughter requested early in the week, mostly because the thought of the runny eggs in the ones we had in Spain came too close to triggering the nausea I still felt, and because of the abundance of frittata ingredients in our house, spinach from my gal’s stash for green smoothies, potatoes from the farmers market on our vacation, heirloom tomatoes on sale at the store, likely the last we’ll see this year, broccoli I cooked earlier in the week, leftover in the fridge, eggs, cheese, onions, garlic scapes pesto left from early summer, and herbs from the porch, still out there til temps drop a little lower and they have to come in or freeze. My kids and I enjoyed the frittata at the kitchen table, along with chunks of melon and conversation about the tastiness or lack of it with melon, this one particularly nice.
Moments like that confirm the research connecting family dinners with children’s success in life.
After I clean up from the frittata, its time to scour the cupboards for the ingredients for flourless chocolate cake, the treat I’ll offer at tomorrow’s retirement party for Alice, better than the sheet cake I think I ought to get, because it’s traditional, not because it’s great, and better for Alice, who goes gluten free. The batter in the bowl is soothing, as the veggies and eggs were sustaining. The chocolate in the cupboards is the good stuff, as the recipe requests. I have eggs, butter, vanilla, sugar, and that is all I need, plus the heart pan and paper to line it and the oven to bake it and the bowls and microwave and whisk, all the stuff we take for granted in homes that are used to baking in first world USA.
This week there’ve been critters in the compost. Two of four day care teachers have been sick. Babies have cried through much of nap time, unable to settle themselves to sleep. Kids have punched and fussed and spilled their milk. Paradise isn’t all perfect, even here in the first world USA West Family Day Care universe I love. I’ve missed my guy, gone since Monday after ten days together in Spain, gone this weekend to fight climate change on the streets of New York City, large world problem I haven’t got strength to fight, prefer to fight right here in Somerville with locally grown veggies, compost, and holding off on oil heat. Small things add up, my philosophy of midlife, when energy for protests and large scale movements is scarce.
Been a full week, Spain/Somerville, holiday/work, couple/single mom with kids. Transitions are tough, no matter our age. Whenever I feel one big-time, as I have this week, I gain empathy for the kids in our care, and their parents, some of whom feel the transitions every day with tears and tantrums. Not many do, but those who do really struggle, and it’s good to gain perspective.
Last Saturday I was in Spain. I woke near in the back bedroom of our friends house, after a late night at the circus in Avila, had breakfast on the patio, fresh figs from their tree the highlight of that meal, followed by fresh almonds taken from another tree and smashed open with a rock. We walked the dog in the country, picked blackberries, shopped in the local grocery, with Pulpo right out front, brand names and products we don’t have here mixed with plenty that we do, for a salad lunch we made in the friends’ small kitchen, enjoyed in the dining room with their son, before heading off to Avila for more circus festival, and dinner with the friends who introduced us a year and a half ago, a world away from Spain.
Now I’m back, here on the red couch with the white cat, son off to Improv Class, gal upstairs in her room. Home is a happy place to be, more so now I’ve made the transition back, a bit rocky midweek, settling down now, thanks to time, Excedrin, cooking, cake.
Tomorrow will be the biggest party I’ve hosted in awhile, over sixty expected for potluck in the park, to celebrate Alice and her many years working with children, who turned 70 last week. The first cake is on the counter, the second will be soon. Shortly my daughter and I will do the shopping, for day care and home groceries, plus raspberries to turn into sauce to top the cake. Low key Saturday is just what the doctor ordered, surprising me once again midday as the gift that keeps on giving, time in a quiet house with a cat and the couch and the keyboard and a small story and plans for things to come.
Forgot to say John Prine was also part of the medicine. The man does restore my spirits, almost had me dancing while I baked.
Here is the recipe for the flourless chocolate cake, tried and true for several birthday parties so far, new for a retirement bash, at least for me. Any thoughts on decorating it to rival the usual grocery store sheet cake?
http://bakingbites.com/2011/04/classic-flourless-chocolate-cake/
And for frittata, its more procedure and ingredients than recipe, but here is a rough idea, in case you’d like to try and haven’t yet:
Chop some vegetables and slice some cheese and beat some eggs and preheat the oven to broil before you begin to cook.
Today I used 8 eggs, for three of us, plus leftovers.
In the medium, nonstick frying pan, I sautéed one onion in some olive oil til soft. Next in were chunks of red potatoes, then after they were nearly cooked, chopped broccoli, tomatoes, leftover corn, and garlic scape pesto (could have used chopped garlic in the beginning, but this is easier and was on hand). When all that heated through, I tossed in some salt and pepper, some fresh, chopped basil and parsley from the porch, and a few chopped leaves of spinach.
Over that I poured the eggs, beaten with some milk, and spread slices of cheddar cheese. I cooked that a few minutes til the eggs at the edge began to set, then put it under the broiler, not too close, until the eggs puffed, the cheese melted, and I could see some golden brown.
I let it cool a few minutes, then cut and served the wedges with chunks of cantaloupe melon, more fresh ground pepper and salt, yum.
I’d share a John Prine song, but none in particular stand out. Try The Missing Years album if you just want a great collection. In this day and age, that ought to be a decent lead.
