Lucky Charms

Breakfast June 3, 2010

There are times in one's life when things don't really make sense. What I'm trying to say is that feeling good is not always linked to logical circumstances. This is okay. Actually, it's better than okay. It is preferred. It is how life should be. Predictability leads to boredom and eventually straight down to stagnation. I'll go so far as to say that a little illogical spontaneity now and then is required in life.

The air felt clean and cool this morning. Thick billowing clouds of fog rested on the bay. It was absolutely beautiful. I walked downtown with Chris and then began back up the hill without a coat. Not wearing a coat at 8:00am in San Francisco is a very big treat. It was the beginning of a perfect day.

Suddenly I was struck with a desperate craving for Lucky Charms. Yes, the cereal with sweet hard little marshmallows. I didn't beat myself up over it. I just popped into our apartment, grabbed a few dollars (it turns out $6.79 was required), and made my way to our corner market. They usually open at 7:30am, but they were still closed. I wasn't about to change my mind, so I walked around the block. When I returned, the open sign was lit. Yes! You see, I was very excited about this cereal.

I scanned the rows of colorful (cloyingly so) boxes and then I spotted him, the crazy little leprechaun. Seriously, he is pretty frightening. He's on the front and back of the box and holds a howling and manic sort of expression on both sides, it's actually worse on the back. I took him home anyway.

I set up my bowl and spoon, poured my cereal, and added my milk. There were more marshmallows than I remembered and they swirl some colors now, but it tasted just as I hoped it would. It wasn't at all one of those These really aren't as great as I recalled moments. Nope. I enjoyed every last spoonful.

Of course, my curiosity demanded I take a look at the first few ingredients on the label. First, Whole Grain Oats. Okay... Second, Marshmallows (sugar, modified corn starch, corn syrup (God forbid!), dextrose, gelatin, calcium carbonate, yellows 5 & 6, blue 1, red 40, artificial flavor). Oh. And third, Sugar. Well. Hmmm.

I lead a pretty good life. I care about my family and my environment. This is one small blip on a very big screen and I don't feel bad about it. Isn't it obvious in my photograph? They were kind of pretty. You can't tell me you aren't at least slightly drawn to my shallow pool of green milk.

In the moment, I sort of loved those pink, yellow, green, and blue sweet hard little marshmallows. Maybe I still do.

Also, I sometimes make pancakes with Bisquick.

On Perfectly Buttered Toast and other things

book, window, and wine glass of water, 2009

I've been away. I've taken a solo trip to the country to regroup, refuel, recharge, and all other such res. An early birthday gift to myself (along with A Platter of Figs and other recipes by David Tanis). No telephone, no computer, no one, but me.

written earlier...
It's about 9 o'clock in the morning. I'm looking out the large paned window which takes up most of the east wall of my petite one-room cottage. The sky is white and the sun is shining. I see a small dark bird with a white belly perched upon the old white fence that protects the sheep while they graze. Although it is November, the grass is bright green and wet with dew. The West Marin landscape drinks in the rain after a long dry summer and makes autumn look like spring.

I'm nestled in with a generous slice of sweet sticky Morning Bun Coffee Cake from Bovine Bakery. When I entered the bakery, just about 15 minutes ago, I was convinced my drive into town had been a waste of time. I saw just about everything but my favorite coffee cake inside the glass case. My heart sunk. I wasn't feeling hopeful at all when I hesitantly asked ...any chance you have Morning Bun Coffee Cake back there? The owner replied with It's just come out of the oven. We're about to slice it. Music to my ears.

This slice is so large it requires a sturdy fork and knife. As I savor my first bite, sip my tea, and read David's seemingly effortless guidelines for preparing Lobster Risotto I have to pause for a moment, a long moment, and take in the utter beauty of it all. Nothing going on here is expensive or at all difficult to arrange, yet it's exquisite. It's worth planning this sort of solo time, what I've been calling my retreat. It is this uninterrupted time alone that offers me the time and space to reflect on my life and appreciate others. Which brings me back to yesterday, my first morning alone.

It was a quiet day. I watched a little black sheep nibble on grasses beneath the apple trees. KWMR hummed in the background. As I wrapped yarn around my needles to and fro, knit, purl, knit, purl, I heard Reading to John announced. Reading to John is a radio show. Neshama Franklin read to her husband John for many years before he died and now she reads to her radio audience. Such a beautiful idea, yet also so sad. An experience once shared with a loved one is now read into a microphone from The Creamery Building in downtown Point Reyes Station. Where it goes nobody knows.

I love the indulgence of having a book read to me or having someone serve me a simple meal. Why do these things feel so indulgent? Perhaps it is because I'm an adult and such offerings are typically reserved for children. John was lucky. I'm lucky.

No one can prepare perfectly buttered slices of toast like my mother. I have bitten into many fine slices of buttered toast, but Mom's, it has some indescribable quality that cannot be duplicated. I believe this is the type of feeling we all long to conjure up again, those good ol' days when we were fragile and small, served nice slices of toast, and loved unconditionally.

Chris has prepared elaborate meals for me and surprised me with interesting new ingredients, but it's those little things (those things along the lines of buttered toast) that really make me happy. There's nothing that makes me love a man more than his placing a cutting board decorated with apple and cheese slices in front of me while I'm reading a nice book on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Oh, yes. That's what I'm talking about.

Reading a book to me works well too. I recall lounging in a little cottage on Block Island, watching the sun set, as Chris read from Michael Ondaatje's Divisadero. I also have some beautiful memories of listening to Chris read John Steinbeck's Travels with Charley to me while we camped in Yosemite. There were moments in the sun, sprawled out on mats beside our tent, late nights inside our tent when Chris read with a headlamp, and one day that is so clear in my memory, Chris reading as we both relaxed and dangled our feet from a bridge near Glen Aulin Falls. The light was so beautiful that day.

Why were these moments so special? Is it because I'm in love, because Chris is such a great guy, or is it because these moments take me back to the comfortable feeling of being a child--fine toast, bedtime stories...

It was a warm summer night. Our exhausted voices pleaded One more story, Mom! Just one more! One more! Please... Mom looked down at us, dressed in our cotton nighties and tucked beneath our cool sheets as she, tired from a day filled with two rambunctious little girls, gave in and said Okay...

Once upon a time there was a butterfly.
The butterfly flew away.
The end.

morning bun coffee cake, 2009

Good Poem Hunting

My best friend's breakfast. September, 2009

Do you have a favorite poem?

Whenever I'm asked this question I think of a very early work of Sylvia Plath's, Jilted. It reminds me of so many of the thoughts I had during my adolescent years. Looking back, those thoughts seem sweet and cute, but back then it was all very serious.

Would you share your favorite poem with me (just post it in the comments section)?

Side note:
Here's wishing you find the perfect light, and when you do, that you happen to be with someone who will pause, put down his fork and knife, and be patient while you work.

But is it work? No, not really.

Enjoy your day.

tossed salad and boiled eggs

Green Gulch Farm salad greens in my favorite wooden salad bowl

It is Sunday morning. I've woken without an alarm. I've posted my poem. I have a few eggs boiling on the stove. We will soon be eating those eggs with a green salad and slices of toast topped with homemade jam. Green Gulch Farm adds lovely little flowers to their salad greens mix, and for me, it makes all the difference. It is a good day. I'm happy. That's all...

playing along

Playing along with Abby...

Touch
A cool clay mug

Taste
A bowl of Malt-O-Meal

Smell
Lavender

Sight
Looking through Lumie again

Sound
Norah Jones + traffic

If you decide to play along, leave a link to your post in the comments section.

berry

Breakfast on Mesa Road, Point Reyes Station, June 2008

berry, oh berry
simple, honest, and sweet

juicy and black
not at all like a beet

you bathe in the sun
and you never burn

you fall from your stem
nothing asked in return

Ice cream, in oatmeal?

Steel Cut Oats, Red Apricots, Vanilla Bean Ice Cream, and Freshly Ground Nutmeg

Yes, ice cream in oatmeal!

The following is excerpted from the comments section of a post about ice cream on david lebovitz living the sweet life in Paris.

By chez danisse on August 14, 2009 3:47 PM

Ice cream in oatmeal? My father used to top our Cream of Wheat with vanilla ice cream and until now I'd never heard anyone reference anything even close. You are the first. We loved it--rich cool sweet cream melting over breakfast...yum. I'm sure your version, caramelized white chocolate ice cream stirred into oatmeal, is superb!

By David on August 15, 2009 4:06 AM

chez danisse: Ice cream, in oatmeal? Even I'm not that crazy : )

I put a big spoonful of the caramelized white chocolate itself in the oatmeal, let it melt a bit, then stir it around slightly. (Not too much, such I like ribbons of it.)

By chez danisse on August 15, 2009 11:57 AM

Oops...looks like I was reading too quickly and seeing what I wanted to see versus what was actually written. That being said, I am crazy enough to try ice cream in oatmeal and plan on giving it a go. It was so good in Cream of Wheat. I'm sure it will be tasty. Maybe you should get a little crazy and try it too ; )

Malt-O-Meal Makeover

my breakfast -- July 10, 2009

I had a wisdom tooth pulled in May and one of the things that comforted me post-surgery was a box of Malt-O-Meal. The box has been neglected since then, but today it called to me.

I prepared one serving of Malt-O-Meal as directed by box instructions (one exception, I used a whisk--it works much better than a spoon). Next I scooped a heaping tablespoon of crunchy peanut butter, my favorite type, the type that is labeled ingredients: peanuts, into my bowl. I poured the hot Malt-O-Meal over the peanut butter. I topped the Malt-O-Meal and peanut butter with a generous sprinkling of sweetened coconut flakes, a drizzle of sesame oil, and finished it off with some SRIRACHA HOT CHILI SAUCE (rooster sauce).

I dipped buttered toast (Acme's Upstairs Bread) into this fabulous dish and it was mmm mmm good.

Small confession: Another post-wisdom tooth extraction comfort was instant mashed potatoes with blue cheese crumbles. I was weak...

bored with breakfast?

Chris relaxing on the deck (ours for the weekend)

We just spent three beautiful days on the Inverness Ridge. Our climb to the top was pretty intense, so we tried to limit our trips into town for supplies and cooked most of our meals in the house.

One morning Chris decided to make savory oatmeal. Yes, savory - no brown sugar, no cream, no raisins.

He patiently prepared 2 servings of Bob's Red Mill 100% whole grain steel cut oats. Steel cut oats are worlds away from the oatmeal most of us grew up eating. They differ in taste (better), texture (better), and preparation (l o n g e r). Steel cut oats cook for 10-20 minutes over a low heat, nothing like those cute little sweetened pouches of just add hot water instant oatmeal.

Chris topped our savory steel cut oats with diced salametto (Fra'Mani handcrafted salumi from Berkeley) found at Tomales Bay Foods, finely grated Pecorino Romano from Palace Market (the one cheese we forgot to purchase at Cowgirl Creamery - love that place!), a drizzle of McEvoy Ranch extra virgin olive oil (McEvoy is a class act, but Stonehouse is still my favorite), and he completed the dish with coarse ground black pepper.

It was fantastic! I know we will be experimenting with many variations on this theme.

Thanks Chris!