Dispatches from the beach

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I can hear the water lapping against the shores of the channel, can feel the breeze whisper against and across my shoulders as I rock slowly on the second floor porch. Some birds perch, others soar, boats and jet skis head home. The sun is setting, moving south as if through multiple filters. It is vivid orange. It is blinding yellow with rays bursting in all directions like a child's drawing. It is muted behind the prism of layers of clouds moving in various directions. Some are utterly static while others race. How is this? How do some freeze in the face of forceful currents?

Last night we celebrated my mother-in-law's 70th birthday, and today, she, my father-in-law, brother- and sister-in-law, and nieces headed home. It was a wonderful week- getting to see the kids together, see them truly love and delight in playing together is a treasure.

My crew decided to stay the day and are glad we did. I had peach apricot pie for breakfast (made this yesterday!), went for a run, we spent a last couple hours on the beach, and saw Wonder Woman. As have many, I cried in several spots, moved by her fierceness, wisdom, compassion, courage, and unabating morality. If only such sorts of people actually led our country right now. If only...

Instead, we have an ignorant, insecure, greedy, lying, fraud in the big seat, and innocent people like Philando Castile are murdered in cold blood for no reason other than their skin color and their killers are set free. This country is not moving forward, and it is utterly disheartening and enraging.

With a wink, a nod, and a clenched fist of hell yeah, I leave you with this. 

Eggplant parmesan, a thank you, and a great book to read with kids (or without them)

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A dear friend is moving soon, and last week I had the good fortune to get to host a going-away dinner for her. Word on the street was that her favorite meal is eggplant parmesan. I like eggplant parm, but A) have not made it in years, and B) often find it bland, watery, and underwhelming all around.

To avoid those pitfalls and ensure a gold-medal casserole, I crowd-sourced beloved recipes and tips from some of my most trusted foodie friends, and then came up with my own recipe. Wendy suggested baking the eggplant rather than frying it, a method she came across in a Food52 recipe written by Nancy Jo. Great tip as eggplant is the greediest olive oil sponge in the world, and I hate oily dishes.

Suzanne uses ricotta in addition to mozzarella and parmesan, and as I both love ricotta and am always happy to make yet another pot of it, I went with her advice to use it. I also decided to use panko for some extra texture and depth.

The tomato sauce recipe is my own, one that I've been tinkering with and perfecting over the years. I think it's sublime. So, here's the recipe, Eggplant Parmesan, and here are some pictures to whet your appetite. Included in the headnote are tips about using male eggplants as they are less bitter.

I must also take this time to thank you all for the outpouring of enthused support for my last post, When you've got a siphon but needs a bellows. It's always so heartening to hear that my words resonate with you.

And lastly, if you have kids, nieces/nephews, children you mentor/babysit/work with/love, 8 years and up, I implore you to read the profound book, Wonder, with them. Heck, if you have no children in your life, I still implore you to read Wonder. Written by R.J. Palacio, Wonder topped the New York Times book list, has won a host of awards, inspired the Choose Kind movement, and is soon to be a motion picture in wide release.

It is a fictional story of a 10-year-old boy, August Pullman, who was born with a craniofacial deformity. When we meet August, he has undergone dozens of reconstructive surgeries but still looks very different. His mother has home-schooled him until now, but we soon learn that he'll be entering fifth grade at a mainstream private school in the near future.

Oliver and I are reading it for his book club, and we have enjoyed and hung on every page. It has offered more than a few opportunities for deep discussion about kindness, people's insides versus their outsides, bullying, justice, anxiety, shame, and love. It is a very, very dear story that's not sugar-coated or superficial. It is both tough and uplifting. We both found ourselves in tears this morning in one particularly moving scene. Ol has never before cried in a book and seemed nervous about doing so.

"Bug, I have cried in so many books over the years. That's when you know a story is a really good one that will always stick with you; when even if it's fiction you love and care for the characters. You hurt for their losses and cheer their successes and root against the bully and hope kindness and justice prevail. What you're feeling is the impact of a great book. Lucky us."

Velvet apricots are here, and so, jam.

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Each and every year, when velvet apricots find their way to our local markets, I fall back in love with their simple, sensual beauty. Red velvets emerge first, and then their black velvet kin, at least in my area.

I am a stone fruit fanatic, but truth be told, I rarely enjoy eating fresh apricots. Too often they are mealy, mushy, and/or flavorless. But dried, stewed, or preserved? Yes. Now we're talking. 

A few years back, in the thick of my jam-inventing heyday, I happened on a combination of velvet apricots, pluots (a plum-apricot hybrid), sugar, cognac, and a touch of black pepper. It is both basic and decadent, its taste as divine as its jewel-tone hue. 

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This year's red velvet apricot crop has beaten plums and pluots to market shelves, and so I had to tinker a bit with my recipe, to optimize for the basket of apricots I'd recently brought home. I suspected that a just-ripe nectarine would do the trick, and it did. I love being forced to come up with alternative ingredients- necessity breeding creativity, and all that.

It's been a while since I had (made) a few hours to make a batch of jam at my own pace. To take time to chop and taste and photograph and stir. The serenity that results from crafting something delicious and pretty, from start to finish, is something that's always drawn me to my kitchen.

This past Friday, as I ladled hot jam into sterile glass jars, screwed on lids and bands, and set the sealed parcels into their boiling bath, I thought about how much I thrive on focused creation. Whether it's working in my garden, writing an essay, or turning a few pounds of fruit into preserves that we'll enjoy throughout the next year, I need to regularly remind myself, especially during harried times like the end of school, that making time for productive, inventive pursuits is never time wasted. 

Hope all of my domestic friends are enjoying this long weekend, and to those around the globe, cheers!