A Cider Loaf for a Rainy Saturday

Early this morning, while Ladybird dressed and collected a bag of hair and make-up accessories (she seems to be the official hair and make-up girl for church weddings nowadays) I laid in bed dozing, enjoying the gentle glow of the starry Christmas lights still looped around the room, and planning my day. First on my list: make Nigel Slater's Cider Loaf. 

For my 14th birthday, Autumn Rain gave me a wonderful recipe treasury by Nigel Slater, complete with stunning photography and quaint, humorous kitchen notes that make me want to eat seafood, raw tomatoes and alcohol (all of which I have never liked). The problem with being a foodie is that things you don't like, when described very well and accompanied by a beautiful picture, can seem far too appealing. Then when you cook with them, the results are a painful disappointment. But that's a story for another day. The Cider Loaf was a success (in spite of the alcohol, which only showed up as a piquant tart flavor) and we topped it with sweet, crunchy chicken salad to make a perfect Saturday lunch.

The flames are lithe and silken, fanning from clean orange ribbons into soft, translucent wraiths in swift, curling gold. It is a miracle: that mountain dance of rich, pure colors sprouting from hot white ash, heart-beat coals and silent black chunks of oak. And its all tucked away, almost as if it were insignificant and normal, inside the tidy stove with its clean glass window, arched, crossing bars and cast-iron kettle breathing warm moisture into the air. But I know it isn't: Mama keeps glancing at it too--sometimes her knitting goes completely unnoticed for a few moments while she watches the sprite-dance inside the stove. And Chesterton is lying on the floor nearby, not even bothering to sleep on  the rug (anything to be closer to that gold licking firelight). But Daddy remains oblivious, I think, to the magic. For now.
Thursday night almost feels like the beginning of the weekend. That's a pretty good deal, when I realize that I then have only three full school days. Of course, it's not really that way... but it's a good perspective. Agatha Christie's life is almost laid bare, I have a treasure trove of things to work on during the next week of piano practice, Spanish will have a new beginning soon, and a new chapter of geometry is about to start. And it's all oh, so good. Sometimes I don't think like that--I am actually fully capable of feeling tired and worried--but right now, having worked a thorough, happy day and now relaxing with a merry fire and Following the Moon (a favorite baroque album) I can say it with a pure heart: life is good.
There is something unique and precious about this November. Maybe some snatch of firelight, kiss of cold air or shawl of rustling tawny leaves has lent me special joy. But I am more prone to think that it is, in fact, my appreciation for these things that has changed my attitude. After all, what is a glorious sunset if you aren't thankful for it? Just a sunset. I think it takes gratitude for it to be glorious.

Of a Saturday

Ladybird and Moonchild are about to have a regular brinner-feast. She is getting Gavin ready for bed now, and I have just finished a bit of washing up. When he's sound asleep, and the acorn squash is out of the oven, we will toast some bread and cheese, fry some sausages, brew a pot of tea and settle down to a long and satisfying brinner. After that comes miniature chocolate pudding tarts and gingerbread bundt cakes. After all, it's not every Saturday that Mama and Daddy head off on an anniversary date!

Little Things

It is golden, here on the hilltop,

Watching the sun-sweet day

Of the valley age in a splendor

Of fading loveliness--filled with

Smooth earth, crinkled leaves, twisted hay.

Rajah and Czar are looking too,

Both as alert to the tiny signs

Of a mouse chase as I am

To the beauty of an October evening,

 To the balm of apricot-scented wind and sticky pines.

The light over the friendly valley

Is so gentle, breathing its soft words

Over rooted mountains and straight,

Slim grasses erect in taught comfort,

Slipping small bright seeds to the birds.

The moon, coyly glowing her silver

Smile, rises in the dim, intricate

Coolness of the muscled oak boughs,

She is an evening soul in palest crepe.

Perfect before violet skies, still lit.

F. M. G.

Midweek with rosemary and garlic

I was finished with school at the great and alarming hour of 5:00, and I was ready to put my sparing creative juices to work. After a bit of messing with the piano and keyboard (I was toying with rhythms to incorporate into a piano lesson  tomorrow) it was time to begin the preparation of a long-awaited dinner production (something I had at Olive Garden a while back and haven't been able to forget). My plans were Baked Rosemary-Garlic Chicken, Cheese and Herb Potato Fans, and a garden salad. To my taste, the results were a bit too salty and "green with their coats of dried herbs", but Mama and Ladybird approved, so it must just be me.
Four baking potatoes were briskly scrubbed and thinly sliced, each one maintaining a thin spine of uncut fiber so the potato remained whole. I splayed the little layers as well as I could and drowned them in melted butter, salt and pepper. After about 45 minutes of moderate baking they were sprinkled with a handful of grated Parmesan, Cheddar, and Italian herbs. As soon as the cheese melted they were ready.
The chicken was more fun: Four whole breasts rubbed with salt and pepper, tucked into a dear old glass dish. They were drizzled with white wine vinegar and olive oil, and a scattering of whole garlic cloves was allowed to caramelize on top. Dried rosemary, fennel and thyme provided their "green coats". This baked at 450 for longer than expected (between 30 and 40 minutes, I think). My salad was a lively and simple affair of fresh lettuce, cucumber, purple onion and an exciting cilantro dressing.
We were all quite full after our warm, candle-lit meal, but couldn't resist a bit of dark chocolate to end it. I chose a chunk of frozen, home-made deliciousness studded with hazelnuts. And (with painful generosity) shared it with Gavin. Then me and Ladybird did the washing up and went out for a short walk. I hope I'm not the only one around here who has noticed the striking young moon tonight--it is slim and elegant, and cosseted by gentle, mysterious ash-colored clouds.
I'm still enjoying the "new" school year. Ladybird is finally beginning her second year of college, and it seems impossible that her summer break could really have been that long; but it was. So it's quiet around here, with me, Mama and Gavin puttering happily through our simple days (though we do tend to wear thin at the end of the afternoon, when he gets tired and hungry). I started my first research project of the year yesterday, and I'm surprisingly intrigued with the concept. I've chosen to write about Agatha Christie--maybe I'll gain some inspiration, or at least a little peak into the genius behind Murder on the Orient Express.

French bread and cheese

We had a wonderful last weekend of summer. Friday was spent at the Woodburn Outlets doing some back to school and birthday shopping, including a bit of chocolate with caramel and macadamia nuts in the late afternoon, and we met Daddy for dinner at a Mexican place in the outlets. It was a happy end-of-the-work-week reunion, and we were satisfied with our purchases. On Saturday we celebrated Ladybird's birthday with a family breakfast and a relaxing morning. In the afternoon I had a picnic in the woods with the birthday girl, during which we read a good bit of The Fellowship of the Ring and dubbed a squirrel "Sophie" after it's sound-alike, a squeaky plastic giraffe of Gavin's. The evening was a real celebration: creamy enchiladas with mango salsa, a friend over to help us enjoy it, a happy mound of presents, and Almond-poppyseed cake with chocolate vanilla tea. The three of us girls disappeared upstairs soon afterwards for a movie and some hair and make-up experimentation.

Yesterday started early--the 10-mile run to church with Daddy was first starry and dark (with a sliver of golden moon), and then ghostly grey with creamy-peach blushes on the horizon, and finally coolly spread with mellow, orange light of morning as we crested the last hill before town. Church was nice (after a quick, hot shower) and then we were home again (don't worry, we drove back!) to eat sausage-corn casserole, salad and slices of leftover birthday cake. I had a quiet afternoon of reading and being with family, and another workout with Daddy (push-ups this time). Before I left for youth group we shared fresh bread of Mama's making, bright, sweet grapes and pieces of cheddar and garlic white cheese--it was wonderful.

And now Monday. I'm busier, but still delighting in life. There is truly something to learn in each moment during the school week!

Spending Time

The "living at home" portion of our family spent Labor Day weekend at our favorite haunt for vacationing, a quiet, snug cabin about an hour Northeast of home, where the air is filled with pine scents and the freshness of the river. Craggy rocks add character and immense beauty to the softly dark green mountains--I like to admire them from the vantage of the porch swing just on the other side of Opal Creek, with a big mug of a spicy, hot tea (mountain mornings do tend to be chilly). We had a rich, chocolatey ganache cake both evenings after our special Trader Joe's dinners, while we watched Little Dorrit (Friday night) and The Croods (Saturday). Me and Ladybird worked up hearty appetites swimming in the icy cold, crystal green water and going on inspirational hikes in the rain and dew-glinting sunshine, and spent a bit of our time reading Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (we're making not very much headway in the series, although we both love them). I also got to go on a wonderfully stormy, 9-mile run with Daddy, read my own fun book, The Eagle of the Ninth, and play Ticket to Ride with Ladybird. Mama may not have had as relaxing a vacation as I: Gavin woke up at 4:30 on Sunday morning and could not be convinced to go back to bed. We finished our trip with Sunday dinner at Olive Garden on the way home (I thoroughly enjoyed my Garlic Rosemary Chicken and mashed potatoes, and am now determined to recreate the delicious concoction, with a valiant attempt at those garlic cloves, chewy, whole and caramely sweet). And then Daddy had to drive all the way back to the cabin to fetch his laptop, forgotten on the antique stove in the corner of the kitchen.
I spent my real Labor Day catching up on school reading, which was actually very pleasant, putting my room to rights, watching Doctor Who with Ladybird, doing push-ups with Daddy, running for an hour along my home roads... it was good. And in the afternoon, when everything else was happily accomplished, I slipped off into the woods, found a resting place, and lay there letting time slide by while I watched birds and dancing fir boughs, felt wind and fir needles wafting around me, and thought contentedly about life and health and beauty.
P.S. Happy September!