A Dog Sledding & Skijoring Photo Safari

Last week was one for the record books— goat midwifery, Jack's first solo dog sledding run and skijoring. A beautiful, sunny, warm-ish March afternoon spent with some of my favorite people (and dogs) in the world was about as good as it gets.

Okay, I have to admit I have a favorite sled dog— Vader, the lead dog and enforcer of orderly behavior (as he defines it). He's nearly as photogenic as George and Viv and certainly more useful in the 'working dog' department. I met Vader two years ago at Good Thyme— Julie and Charly brought the dogs to the restaurant for a dog sledding field trip for Meghan and Caroline's class. I barely knew Julie, let alone a pack of what seemed to me to be feral, wild sled dogs but as I watched them pull the kids around, I fell in love with their smiling faces. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship and an introduction to a bunch of honest dogs.

I wasn't exactly sure what a skijoring/photo safari entailed but I knew a bunch of handsome Siberians would make for some seriously awesome pictures. The pictures did not disappoint, the Honest Dog kennel is such a handsome crew.

There were some good-looking humans as well. Jackson isn't the biggest fan of having his picture taken and I'm completely baffled how I captured his beautiful smile. I think he was distracted by lobbing snowballs at Sadie and Gina. He's such a good kid.

They all came racing back with smiling faces (dogs and humans, alike).

Jack and Bisoux— a perfect match.

Jack took off towards the kennel and we headed back to Bayfield. It was definitely an afternoon for the record books and another reason I thank my lucky stars I ended up in Bayfield with the greatest group of friends and dogs a girl could hope for. Julie and Jill, bloggers extraordinaire, wrote about the afternoon as well— check it out: Honest Dog and Garlic Pig.

December 31st, 2012

It was a good last day of 2012. We did it all: skiing, hiking, warming up in the hot tub and sauna, sending wish lanterns into the night sky, eating, drinking and making merry. Since the moon was void of course, we decided it would be best to hold off on any declarations of intentions until today after 11:30— it freed up a lot of time for additional eating, drinking and merriment. It was a record for me, dinner didn't hit the table until 10:52. At least it wasn't 11 o'clock, that's way too late for dinner. On the upside, we were all wide awake and full when we headed outside to light the wish lanterns in the sub-zero temperatures.

I know I've said it before but, isn't George such a handsome dog?? He had a blast running up and down the sugarbush trail and struck this pose as were headed back to the ski hill. I think in a previous life, he was definitely a movie star.

Meg is a fearless  and joyful skier (unlike her mother), she literally had a smile on her face the whole way down the hill. I can't believe how competent she has become in just a few short years.

Of course, we had sparkling wine and Rack and Riddle Blanc de Noirs is one of my favorites. It's made from primarily Pinot Noir grapes and is the most beautiful color of pink. It's more subtle (like French champagne) than most moderately priced California sparkling wine I've tasted— it's nicely balanced with citrusy and subtle wild strawberry flavors.

I was at Andy's buying snacks for the kids and saw Old Dutch puff corn was on sale. I knew exactly what to do— make a heap of caramel corn and try to restrain myself from eating the whole pile (good practice for the dietary austerity measures headed my way in 2013). While it's not the most fancy caramel corn I've eaten, it's got everything I need: sweet, salty and crunchy. I sprinkled a little Maldon sea salt on the caramel corn as it was cooling— nothing like gilding the lily, right? If your 2013 dietary plan allows some room for caramel corn, here's the recipe (link here), it's seriously good stuff.

After dinner, we bundled up and went outside to send off five (not four, I'm not a fan of even numbers) wish lanterns to welcome 2013. We couldn't have asked for a better night— it was calm, the moon was shining brightly and the stars were blanketing the night sky. At midnight, amid the fireworks a neighbor set off, a pack of coyotes welcomed in the new year with yips and howls, it was pure magic. Of course, I put the dogs inside after the serenade was over, better safe than sorry with my wild life unsavvy pack.

2012 taught me a number of lessons but the most powerful one, and one I'm carrying into 2013, was mindfulness (and conversely, mindlessness). I've learned to let what needs to go, go and to allow what needs to come in, come in. Sounds pretty simple but turning off my monkey brain has been, and continues to be, a challenge. Those moments when I'm taking my own advice and truly existing only in the present moment are enough to inspire me to keep practicing.

When I hiked to the sugarbush yesterday morning, I practiced listening to the trees, hearing the wind and watching George joyfully bound up and down the trail. It amazed me how easy it was to become an open conduit for contentment when I kept my focus soft, listened to the quiet voice inside me and felt the blessings of my life. 2013 holds such promise and I can't wait to see where it takes me.

As usual, Mary Oliver had just the right words for my hopes for 2013. She had a dog named Percy and she asked him the simple question, 'how should I live my life'? Of course, a dog would know just what to say.

I Ask Percy How I Should Live My LifeMary Oliver

Love, love, love, says Percy. And hurry as fast as you can along the shining beach, or the rubble, or the dust.

Then, go to sleep. Give up your body heat, your beating heart. Then, trust.

Russian Tea Makes It All Better

Despite my best efforts, we've succumbed to the cold that has been traveling around the Bayfield peninsula. Since the kids are sick of green smoothies, we've moved on to Russian tea— my Mom's panacea to sniffling and sneezing. It seemed exotic to me as a kid. We never had Tang in the house (for some reason, I associated it with astronaut food and my parents were firm believers in real orange juice) and drinking 'tea' seemed like the grown-up way to handle a cold. As I was mixing it up this morning for my crew, the mildly citrus and über sweet smell brought me right back to my childhood kitchen on West 60th Street. I'm always struck by how smells and tastes conjure up memories I thought I had forgotten, food is powerful medicine.

Russian Tea

2 cups instant tea powder
2 cups Tang powder
1/4 cup sweetened lemonade mix (I used Country-Time)
1 cup white sugar
2 tsp cinnamon
3/4 tsp ground cloves

Preparation
Add all ingredients to a large bowl and combine thoroughly. Add 2 tablespoons to one cup hot water and mix to dissolve. Store in a sealed container.

God Bless You, Everyone

As I sat in the theater last night and listened to Noah, Liesl and Tom speak to the kids before the dress rehearsal, I was reminded once again of why I love living in this little town. The message from the adults on stage to a theater full of excited young actors was perfect: have fun, keep growing and developing your character and we are so proud of you. What a gift they gave to the kids— the opportunity to stretch their wings and take chances in a nurturing and supportive environment. What more could I ask for?

Charlie and Will scored the good dressing room this year, they're in the basement with 6 or 7 other boys complete with a recliner, internet and power for their iPods, Kindles and Nintendos. Meg is up in the kitchen area with me and that is a whole different scene— lots of girls with lots of things to say and not a recliner in sight. Quiet is the name of the game backstage after the curtain goes up— kind of tough with 8 girls in a dressing room. They are tremendously enthusiastic about everything— the costumes, hairdo's, snacks, Minecraft, homework and Christmas Carol. It's fun to get know the kids outside of schoool— they are a tremendously funny and interesting troupe of characters.

If I had to try to capture the essence of Charlie, this photo pretty much sums it all up— happy, happy, joy, joy.

Meghan is Man A (and she gets to say, is it an ass? in a party scene...she's pretty pumped about that), Will is Father and Charlie is Mr Fezziwig (Julie's daughter, Caroline, is Mrs Fezziwig and for the next three weeks we get to be Mother-In-Laws).

I love these pictures of the boys, they are growing into such handsome young men.

Meg's soon to be famous 'is it an ass' scene.

Oh, What A Night

It started with pâté and a trio of Sassy Nanny cheese, went straight into turkey and then ended up with pie. All in all, a perfect Thanksgiving. In between all the food and wine, there were my beautiful nieces and nephews (and one pug named Homer with a stylish Christmas sweater). I think at last count, there were 24 people at dinner. As I looked around, I felt the blessings of a large family who genuinely love each other. This year was pretty tame compared to last year's dance party in the living room to Meatloaf's Paradise By The Dashboard Lights (requested by the matriarch of this clan, Nana).

Nana bought a tablecloth for the kitchen table that the kids could illustrate— it was a big hit.

Cate was contemplating her next move.

Emma— possibly the sweetest and most loving little girl I have ever met.

The turkey spoon that has scooped and the dish that has held the stuffing for as long as I can remember. Katie made the green bean casserole with fresh green beans, a definite improvement over frozen beans. And really, those Durkee french onions aren't that bad— they have crunchy and salty on their side.

Yup, that's a Jeroboam of 2008 Cline Ancient Vine Zinfandel behind Eleanor, we had lots of glasses to fill.

It's hard to take a bad picture of Jimmy, he is joy personified.

Sadie and Nana were discussing the finer points of properly whipped cream.

Homer says, 'On to Christmas, I already have my outfit picked out.'

Ted Makes Dinner

I remember the first dinner I made for Ted— chicken fajitas with the Lawry spice package, flour tortillas and shredded cheese. I was 19 years old and while I had eaten, walked through and emptied the dishwasher in my Mom's kitchen, I hadn't ever cooked a full on dinner. I was so happy when Ted walked in the apartment that evening so many years ago and said, 'it smells good in here'. Looking back, I'm pretty sure that's where it started for me— the realization that cooking is more than eating, it's about creating space for nurturing and loving the people in our lives (even new boyfriends).

That first fajita meal awakened my inner cookery maven but I still had a lot to learn. I wanted to stretch my fledgling culinary wings beyond fajitas and toasted tomatoes with provolone but didn't know where to start. I was working at Ki Clayton in Southdale and we carried a couple of cookbooks by Susan Branch, I purchased them one afternoon and started planning my first 'real' meal made entirely from scratch. As it turns out, it was the best place to start— the recipes were easy, nearly foolproof and Susan lived in Martha's Vineyard (I've always a thing for Cape Cod). I lost the original cookbooks somewhere along the way (too many moves using the famous 'throw everything in black garbage bags and hope for the best' method). I found them this summer at a used book store and it was so good to turn those pages again. Looking through the cookbooks, I traveled back to the first time I made pesto, green bean salad with basil dip, ribs and cherry tomatoes stuffed with bacon and cream cheese. Food is truly my conduit to the past and memories I thought I had forgotten.

Ted had a couple of signature dishes from Susan's cookbooks and this smoked salmon pasta was his pièce de résistance. I was not, and still am not, good at anything resembling mise en place. I prefer to cut, mince and measure as I go along my merry way making dinner, not the best method if you are sauteing anything. Thankfully, Ted is very good at the prep work and I tended to leave the recipes where you needed to have everything ready to go into the sauté pan in quick succession to him. He also makes a mean Kung Pao chicken but I'll leave that for another post.

We were casting about for dinner ideas last week and as I was scanning the bookshelf, Susan's cookbook, Heart Of The Home, jumped out at me. I knew exactly what to eat for dinner and Ted was game to tackle the prep and execution of one of our favorite pasta dishes from our early years in Lowertown. It was as good as I remembered— smoky fish, white wine, shallots and pine nuts. It was nice to sit in the kitchen with a glass of wine, chatting with Ted and watching him cook. We have changed and grown in ways we couldn't have foreseen as a young couple but sitting in our kitchen, I realized it's everything I had hoped for and more.

Pasta With Smoked Salmon And Peas(From Heart Of The Home By Susan Branch)

3/4 cup dry white wine
4 tbsp shallots, minced
1 1/4 cup heavy cream
3/4 cup cooked peas
3 tbsp fresh dill, snipped
1/3 pound smoked salmon, sliced
4 tbsp pine nuts, toasted
8 ounce narrow egg noodles (or whatever pasta you prefer)

Toast the pine nuts in a small skillet with a tablespoon of butter. Set aside on a paper towel to drain. Cook the peas and set aside.

Put the white wine and shallots together in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Allow the wine to reduce by about a tablespoon. Stir in cream; bring to a boil and simmer for 5 - 6 minutes. Cover the pan and remove from heat. Put the pasta into boiling water and cook until al dente, rinse in cool water and drain. Put the pasta into a serving dish. Bring the sauce back to a boil, remove from heat and add peas, dill, pine nuts and smoked salmon. Stir to combine and pour over pasta, toss to coat. Serve immediately.

An October Afternoon At The Springs

Roald Dahl said, 'And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it'. Good advice if you ask me. I am a firm believer in magic— in the water, among the trees, in the stalwart devotion of my husband, the stars shining in the night sky, in the love for my children, the flash of a bird's wing, the exuberance of my dogs and the companionship of friends. I truly believe the whole world is revealed to us in the most minute details; our photo safaris are my way to uncover those great secrets.

I was across the stream looking at a particularly curvy branch, turned around and snapped this photo of Charlie. His mind operates at a break neck speed and I rarely catch him just sitting quietly. His reverie was broken by the arrival of George and Viv— they were in the throes of canine joy and bounded onto the scene with serious verve. George was pretty happy to have a big dog to play with, the Cavaliers are not terribly interested in romping through the woods— it messes up their perfectly coiffed coats.

The colors were more muted and monochromatic on this trip to the springs. The energy was quiet and contemplative; it almost seemed like the trees knew colder and darker days are ahead.

Everytime I go out with my camera, I ask the trees to reveal themselves, to give me a glimpse into who they are. Sometimes it is just a beautifully symmetrical whorl in the bark or roots wrapped in an embrace. Since Halloween was around the corner, it was a jack o lantern face in a piece of birch bark— it's good to know the trees have a sense of humor. The greatest secrets are indeed hidden in the most unlikely places.

A View From The Top

I celebrated a birthday in October and we walked up to the top of Mount Ashwabay for a photo safari. It was the perfect way to usher in my 43rd year— a bird's-eye of the lake, the last russet and gold leaves, a brilliantly blue sky and of course the kids and dog (George was the only dog invited). Sadie, George and I opted for a kinder, gentler stroll up Swiss Miss but Meg, Charlie and Caroline went big and decided to head straight up the Drop. We met at the top, took a hiatus to catch our breath and take in the view. It's truly one of the best views up here and well worth the climb.

As I sit here at the kitchen table (three weeks after this beautiful afternoon), listening to the election results roll in, I can't begin to imagine the spectrum of emotions each candidate must be feeling. After months of campaigning, it comes down to the individual votes of millions of people throughout the country. I was the 75th voter in Bayfield this morning and while I'm far removed from the spotlight of Cuyahoga County in Ohio, my vote counts. Of course, I would love to wake up tomorrow with President Obama in office for another four years but it's out of my hands and into the collective hands of everyone who voted today.

One of the gifts of aging is my deep understanding of the power and sense of peace that comes with surrender and fully living in the present moment. As I move into my 43rd year (and away from a divisive and often ugly campaign season), I intend to embrace what's surrounding me every day— my raucous, loving family and friends, free thinking dogs, fantastic dinners and wine, good books and great stories, Lake Superior's water and beaches and the trees who watch over me. Lord knows, it'll be a challenge but it's enough.

You Reading This, Be Ready

Starting here, what do you want to remember? How sunlight creeps along a shining floor? What scent of old wood hovers, what softened sound from the outside fills the air?

Will you ever bring a better gift for the world than the breathing respect that you carry wherever you go right now? Are you waiting for time to show you some better thoughts?

When you turn around, starting here, lift this new glimpse that you found; carry into evening all that you want from this day. This interval you spent reading or hearing this, keep it for life —

What can anyone give you greater than now, starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?

William Stafford

Mary Oliver's Wise Words

When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse 

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

~ Mary Oliver

A Carnival, Parade & Pie

Every year, I have the same conversation with the kids. It goes something like this, 'can we go on the rides, play the carnie games, ride the Zipper?' My answer is always the same— 'absolutely not' but then I crumble like a shortbread cookie, hand over 50.00 to the ticket taker and the kids have a blast. At least I am consistent with my inconsistencies.

Applefest happens the first weekend in October and this little town of 400 people swells to what seems like 4 million. There are all sorts of delicious and unhealthy food choices (hand dipped corn dogs are a personal favorite), booths lining the streets selling everything from bed sheets to cranberries to handmade soap, an apple peeling contest (the winning peel was over 200 inches long) and there is a big parade. Bayfield is particularly well suited for a parade— Rittenhouse gently slopes towards the lake and is lined with picturesque storefronts. There is something about a high school marching band that makes me smile, especially when Will is marching along playing his saxophone.

What do you need the night before a big parade? Pie, of course. After all the nutritious cotton candy, mini doughnuts and corn dogs, we needed a pie with at least one redeeming nutritional component. We settled on banoffee pie— basically a banana cream pie with a few twists. Sadie and her friends assembled the pie while I was making dinner— too many cooks didn't spoil this pie, it was delicious. I made the dulce de leche earlier in the day (recipe here) and it was as easy at the recipe stated (in a crock pot, nonetheless).

Banoffee Pie (Adapted from Melskitchencafe.com)

Crust 36 chocolate sandwich cookies (like Oreos) 7 tbsp butter, melted

Pie 2 3/8 cups of dulce de leche 3 bananas 1 1/2 cup chocolate covered toffee bits (I used Heath) Bits) 1 1/2 cup heavy whipping cream 1/2 cup powdered sugar 12 ounces regular cream cheese, softened 1/2 cup brown sugar

Prepare Crust Add the cookies to a food processor and process until it resembles coarse meal. Put the Oreos in a bowl, add the melted butter and combine thoroughly. Press the mixture into the bottom and up the sides of a buttered 10 inch springform pan. Refrigerate or freeze until set.

Prepare Pie Spread the dulce de leche over the bottom and up the sides of the crust. In a medium bowl, combine the powdered sugar, brown sugar and cream cheese. Whip with a handheld or stand mixer until smooth and fluffy. Add heavy whipping cream on low-speed and mix until combined. Increase the mixer speed to medium and mix until the mixture is light and creamy and is the consistency of thick frosting.

Slice the bananas about 1/4 inch think and layer the slices over the dulce de leche. Sprinkle about 1/2 cup of the toffee bits over the bananas. Spread the whipped cream filling over the bananas and toffee, making sure to spread all the way to the edges of the pie. Sprinkle the top with the remaining toffee bits and chill for at least 2 hours and up to 8 hours before serving. This pie is best eaten the day its made, the bananas start to get mushy if it sits too long.

Will's Beefy Birthday Dinner

Will wanted stuffed tenderloin for his birthday dinner and I was happy to oblige. Stuffed tenderloin is easy to put together, can be made ahead of time and is out of this world delicious. It's more of an idea than a recipe— it changes based on what I have on hand and what sounds good. This birthday version had sautéed mushrooms, caramelized onions, gorgonzola, spinach and a sherry glaze. I butterflied the tenderloin, stuffed it, tied it and liberally seasoned it with my herb salt and pepper. Roast it in a 300 degree oven for about 1 1/2 hours or until it reaches an internal temperature of 130 degrees. Let it rest for about 10 to 15 minutes, untie the beefy bundle and slice away.

Will and I discussed his birthday cake choice, my borderline baking skills and the fact he wanted something with apples. I remembered an apple cheesecake I used to make years ago and I had just re-purchased the cookbook that had the recipe (Just A Matter Of Thyme by Roxie Kelley). It was the perfect birthday cake for Will— a little crunchy and a little sweet.

Where should I start my Will story? From the beginning when he was a blond-haired, smiling boy who loved Thomas the Tank Engine and Legos? When riding the trolley at Lake Harriet was the highlight of his summer? When he crowned himself Nana's favorite because he had colic? When he assumed the Dougherty dog wrangler role and became George's best pal? Will is a bright, inquisitive, tender-hearted and wry young man.

It was one of my greatest gifts when he discovered his love of photography— the time we spend on photo safaris, discussing technique or having Will patiently explain white balance or spot metering (again) are some of my most treasured moments with him. I love that he still takes the dogs out with me, processes life with a mixture of wonder and skepticism, discusses esoteric topics like String Theory with confidence, reads the New Yorker and watches nearly every Discovery show ever made. Watching him grow into the man he will become gives me joy beyond measure.

Apple Strudel Cheese Pie (From Just a Matter of Thyme by Roxie Kelly)

Crust 2 cups graham cracker crumbs 1/2 cup melted butter 1/3 cup sugar

Pie 16 ounces cream cheese, softened 1/2 cup sugar 2 eggs 1 tsp vanilla 4 - 5 tart apples, peeled and sliced (toss apples in 1 tsp cinnamon and 1/4 cup sugar)

Topping 5 tbsp brown sugar 2 tbsp flour 2 tbsp butter, melted and cooled 1/2 tsp cinnamon

Prepare Crust Combine the graham crackers, butter and sugar and press into a 9 inch spring form pan. Bake in a 400 degree oven for 10 minutes. Let cool completely before filling.

Prepare Topping Combine brown sugar, flour, butter and cinnamon in a medium bowl.

Prepare Pie Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Blend the cream cheese, sugar, eggs and vanilla until smooth. Pour into the spring form pan. Top with the apple slices in a spiral pattern and then sprinkle with the topping. Bake at 450 degrees for 10 minutes and then reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees and continue baking for an additional 30 minutes or until set. Chill for at least 2 hours before serving. 

Will's Birthday Lost Creek Walkabout

Will celebrated his fifteenth birthday on October 3rd and we headed out to Lost Creek Falls for a mid-week photo safari to mark his big day. I can't think of a better place to spend an afternoon, I was so excited to hit the road with the kids and hike out to the falls. It was a perfect fall afternoon— sunny, warm and the leaves were brilliant shades of red and yellow. Again, I was humbled by the mind-blowing beauty that surrounds us every day.

Meg was making chains with the leaves that were scattered everywhere you looked, she is a remarkably creative girl. We brought that particular specimen home. I saved it and will give it to her someday far in the future, when this walk is just a beautiful memory.

I had an incredibly hard time choosing pictures for this post, it was absolutely stunning that afternoon. Albert Camus said, 'autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower' and that certainly holds true up here. Autumn has always been my favorite season— I love the cooler temperatures, the viscous evening light, the sound of leaves crunching underfoot and the smell of wood smoke. I like the autumnal energy of endings— a bittersweet turning away and heading towards the quiet of winter.

I will never tire of walking in running water (in rain boots, of course). The feeling of the water rushing by reminds me that we all are on a journey towards our own big water and to savor the vistas and experiences along the way.

The leaves were strewn everywhere, the remnants of Nature's ticker tape parade.

I brought three maple leaves from my yard as an offering of gratitude for Will and the afternoon we spent exploring the forest, creek and falls. Spending a couple of hours taking pictures, building cairns and celebrating our lives among the pines, maples, oaks and waters of this area does more good for my spirit than anything I can imagine.

Charlie is learning how to use his camera and I love looking them over when we return home. It's clear after looking at his photos, he appreciates the nuance and small details of the natural world. I wonder if he knows when Nature reveals herself to us— in the light reflecting off a rock ledge, a lone red leaf in the stream or the dappled light through golden branches, we are in a state of grace. When I feel my spirit becoming ragged, I travel back to these afternoons at Lost Creek and feel my rough edges start to soften and my spirit restore itself.

Will, Charlie and Meghan built cairns in the basin, I think they were looking for a way to leave their mark and celebrate Will's birthday. I'd like to think the cairns were their way of making an offering of gratitude to the spectacular and nurturing energy that resides at Lost Creek. We all walked out of the forest feeling happy and sated by the dazzling light, water and leaves that enveloped us on Will's birthday.

Running at Telemark

I would be hard pressed to come up with a compelling reason to run anywhere. I guess any scenario that involves running for my life would qualify as compelling but thank God I haven't had to explore that scenario. Will is a great runner and runs many, many miles on purpose, in non life threatening situations and for his own personal enjoyment. He joined the cross-country team this year and had a great season.

This meet was at Telemark in Cable and in between shouting encouragement for Will and his teammates, I took a few pictures. The grounds were beautifully decayed, it must have been quite the place in its heyday.

Mister Loki Goes To Bayfield

It's always best to start every story at the beginning, even if there is a cute puppy at the end. I met Jeannie, Eric and Dakota right after Meg was born. My Friday nights would start with a stroll down D dock, while simultaneously trying to navigate the dock cart, make sure no one fell in the water and attempt to keep Guinness from leaping off the dock for a swim. In the midst of all my chaos, I saw Jeannie waiting on the gas dock with her very well-behaved Golden, Dakota. Eric pulled up in their Whaler and they took off for parts unknown. It seemed so civilized and glamorous compared to the traveling circus I was trying to manage. This tableau played out for a couple of months and finally, Jeannie and I had a chance to talk (I think Guinness got off his lead and ran over to see Dakota). That was the beginning of a beautiful and treasured friendship.

Dakota lived a good, long life and walked on when he was 17 years old. Loki has big shoes to fill but after spending a couple of hours with him, he's going to do just fine. Jeannie and Eric had kept us up to date with Loki's (formerly known as Mr Teal) journey to Wisconsin and we were anxiously awaiting his Bayfield début on Saturday. We all got up, got dressed and walked downtown on Saturday morning with George to meet Bayfield's newest canine resident. George was brilliantly behaved and made all sorts of good choices with his newest friend.

As I'm sure you've figured out, I am a big fan of dogs. I literally can't imagine my life without at least one or two (or five) dogs following me around. Given the choice between a dinner at Neptune Oyster in Boston or a European Golden Retriever puppy— I'd take the puppy every time. Since the family consensus is we are maxed out on dogs, it was pure bliss to have Loki around. He's going to have an amazing life— full of beaches and islands, scones from Big Water, dinner on the patio at the Pub and play dates with Uncle George. What a lucky little boy.

Springs Of The Sioux

Julie, Charly and an assortment of children joined us for our photo safari a few weeks ago. They showed us the way to the springs of the Sioux River and now I have another place to add my 'favorite places on Earth' list.

Standing at the springs, I felt a deep sense of gratitude and said a prayer of thanksgiving. Thanks for being near water flowing from deep in the earth, seeing the kids develop their own relationship with the natural world, dear friends to share these special places with and the generous spirit of the trees watching over us.

Lowertown Photo Safari

The kids and I spent a couple hours in Lowertown, taking pictures and walking down memory lane. We wandered into the warehouse where we lived when Jack was born. Sawatdee and a school for deaf children used to be on the main floor and I remember walking in, smelling Thai food (which got really old after a while) and seeing little kids excitedly signing on their way to their classrooms. It hasn't changed much, maybe a little cleaner and they have a mailroom now but it still smells like dinner is cooking— Lenny Russo's restaurant, Heartland, has the entire main floor. I doubt the smell of Heartland's food would ever get old, it's a great restaurant.

When we lived at the Cosmopolitan, we owned a basset hound named Lucy who was resolutely opposed to housetraining. She ruined our carpet in the apartment so Ted, showing the first signs of his all around handy-ness, tore it up and refinished the hardwood. We had the only apartment (there were 250) with beautiful bird's-eye maple floors, thanks to Lucy. Like they say, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade (or tear up the carpet and start over). Ironically, Lucy hated walking on the hardwood and would jump from rug to rug with a long suffering look on her face. Our names are in the closet under 5 layers of varnish, I wonder if they're still there?

There was a piano in Mears Park, not sure what that was all about, maybe cultural enrichment?? I bought Guinness, my Newfie, when we lived in Lowertown and we spent many, many hours in the park. There were pigeons (Jack used to call them chickens), people sitting on the benches, buses roaring by trying to make the light on 5th and Wacouta and dogs on leashes in the park. Not much has changed and it felt good.

The Gopher Bar— cheap beer (at least it used to be) and coney dogs. We would walk up once a week, order a pitcher of beer and power down a couple coney dogs. If I tried that now, I would have heartburn for days and an extra 25 pounds on my backside. Ah, how I miss the rigorous digestive system and metabolism of my youth.

An Afternoon With Tom & Jen

I knew it going to be a wonderful afternoon when Tom said, Domaine Serene and double magnum, in the same breath. What was even better was spending a few hours with my nieces, nephew, Tom, Jen and Maddie— their sock eating black lab.

There was dinner that night and swiss chard played a supporting roll. I wasn't entirely sure what to do with it but figured sautéing it in olive oil with onion, garlic and white wine made sense. I added some of the pepita parsley pesto (recipe here) and chopped fresh tomatoes and called it good. Beth Dooley has a great basic recipe for sautéed swiss chard, just add the pepita pesto and tomato when you add the leaves to the sauté pan and you can call it good too.

Peter's Gazpacho In Tom's Kitchen

When Peter, a good friend and good cook, made gazpacho and invited us for dinner, I knew it was going to be fantastic. His Mom got the recipe from the LA Times in the late 70's and he's been making it for years. Peter handed me the recipe as I was leaving and it's one I'll treasure. He had emailed his sister for the recipe and her response included an update on her daughter's impending delivery. Every time I make gazpacho, I will think of Peter, his Mom and the baby that was born a few days after our dinner. When I was in Minneapolis a few weeks later, I knew exactly what to make for my family.

We spent the afternoon at my brother, Tom's, house and it was just what I needed. I am a homebody (more accurately, a kitchenbody) at heart and while I love eating in restaurants, I hadn't spent any time in a kitchen for two days and I missed it. I knew I wanted to make gazpacho and knew cooking with Tom would be a blast. He has three little girls and his house reminds me of our house when the kids were little— laughter, chaos and a few screams thrown in for good measure. There were eight kids running through the kitchen and I was in heaven.

We went to the St Paul Farmers Market and bought some of the most beautiful vegetables I had seen all summer. The colors and textures were astounding. There was a rainbow of purple carrots, bright green basil, yellow tomatoes and red peppers going into the soup; it was shaping up to be an extraordinary batch of gazpacho.

Tom is number three in the family line-up and he had the good (or bad, depending on who you ask) fortune of being born between five sisters. My other brother, Michael, is number seven and at 14 years younger than Tom, not much help in mitigating all that sisterly energy. To say Tom has been a good sport would be an understatement. Thankfully, he has forgiven or forgotten most of it (I am Cait's godmother, after all) and we have a great time when we get together. He is a great cook, has really nice knives and is super tidy in the kitchen— I was so happy to be at his house.

I was at Bill's Imports before I went to Tom's and picked up some pepitas for parsley pepita pesto (recipe here) on Epicurious. It was perfect for the gazpacho.

Peter's Gazpacho

4 cups V8 Juice 1/4 cup chili sauce 2 tbsp red wine vinegar 2 tbsp tarragon, minced 1 tbsp basil, minced 1 tbsp lime juice 1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce 1 tsp salt 1/2 tsp mace 2 tbsp olive oil 1 clove garlic, minced 1 tbsp cilantro, minced 2 tsp parsley, minced 1 cup tomatoes, peeled, chopped and seeded 16 ounce can on Ro-tel 1/2 cup onion, chopped 1/2 cup cucumber, peeled, chopped and seeded 1/2 cup celery, minced 1/2 cup red pepper, minced 1/3 cup cooked carrots, minced

Add everything to a large pot and stir to combine. It should sit for a couple hours to let the flavors develop, taste for salt before serving. I made a seasoned sour cream (add chopped cilantro, minced garlic and lime juice to sour cream) to serve on top of the gazpacho with the pepita pesto.

A Ritual To Read To Each Other

This morning, I was in the basement attempting to make sense of the piles of clothes, socks and towels that resembled a small mountain range. Since the basement is NOT my favorite place to be, I thought listening to MPR might make my task more enjoyable. Eboo Patel, founder of InterFaith Youth Core, was offering his perspective on religious intolerance and the resulting violence we read and hear about every day. At the end of his interview, he quoted a portion of the last stanza of William Stafford's poem, 'A Ritual To Read To Each Other'. I stopped sorting clothes and let the phrase, 'For it is important awake people be awake' sit with me. What does it mean to be awake?

The mountain range of clothes kept me in the basement for the majority of the afternoon and I had plenty of time to think about Stafford's poem. I am awake when I am walking on the beach with the dogs, making cream cheese wontons with Charlie and Meghan, going on photo safaris with Will and Sadie on the Little Sioux River, watching Ted and Jack laugh about Henry's snoring or catching a glance of the lake on my way to pick up the kids at school. What awakens me can be as simple as planting a garden or as complex as protecting Lake Superior. It comes down to stewardship and legacy— how will I protect what I love and how will I leave it for my children and grandchildren. Poems like Stafford's remind me to be awake, listen with an open heart, watch the horizon and do everything I can to ensure truth will light the darkness.

A Ritual To Read To Each Other

If you don't know the kind of person I am and I don't know the kind of person you are a pattern that others made may prevail in the world and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind, a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail, but if one wanders the circus won't find the park, I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy, a remote important region in all who talk: though we could fool each other, we should consider— lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake, or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep; the signals we give— yes or no, or maybe— should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

William Stafford

The Great Minnesota Get Together

Where else can you go and see a women carving another woman's face in a gigantic brick of butter? Nowhere (that I know of) other than the Minnesota State Fair. We haven't been to the 'great Minnesota get together' for about 5 years and not much has changed. There were still millions of people, food stands every two feet and lots of livestock thrown in for good measure.

There are a few places I tend to avoid like the plague: the Mall of America, Old Country Buffet, any beach anywhere with flies and the Minnesota State Fair. There was one hitch with my State Fair avoidance— my kids and sisters love it. I decided to take one for the team, put on my sensible shoes and head out to join my fellow Minnesotans in St Paul.

We had a tremendous amount of fun, ate a tremendous amount of food and did a tremendous amount of walking. The best food I ate was at the beginning of our State Fair Adventure 2012— Australian battered potatoes with sour cream and sweet chili sauce. I don't know what the Australians do to their potatoes but they were definitely onto something special— fantastic!

The fried pickles were a big attraction for our group. I ordered the gourmet pickle (basically a fried pickle sandwich with cream cheese in the middle) and it was just what I expected— a pickley, salty, creamy version of a fried Oreo.

As a kid, I loved the horse barn. I loved it as much as an adult. I think it was draft horse day because the majority of the horses were enormous and sturdy.

We walked out of the horse barn and into the holding area for a 4-H event with white cows (or steers, I am not entirely sure what the distinction is).

Three Holsteins in a row— beautiful symmetry.

Walking up the staircase with a scratchy piece of burlap and waiting for the signal to fly down the slide was something I looked forward to all day when I was little.

Fried alligator, frozen grapes and sugar-free lemonade. If there were an award for the strangest combination of food, Bayou Bob would definitely be in the running. Although, I don't know what was offered with the deep-fried lamb testicles. If it was a mint jelly smoothie, Bayou Bob may need to take it up a notch.

The grilled corn was a hit with the group. I think we all felt eating a vegetable after the onslaught of fried and sugary food we had eaten all day was a good choice.

We are State Fair connoisseurs about two things: cheese curds (The Original Deep-Fried Cheese Curds) and mini-doughnuts (Tom Thumb). We were headed out to our car when we walked by the Tom Thumb stand and realized, a trip to the Fair is not complete without tiny doughnuts coated in cinnamon sugar. We bought four bags and left the fair with full bellies and sugary fingers.