Friday, July 29, 2011

Celeste, Loss, and The Best Pork I Ever Made

One of the first years I rode the MS-150 City to Shore Bike Tour with my dad (which I'm riding for the eighth time this year) I remember seeing a bright sea-foam green bike at one of the rest stops, propped up against a tree, and I pointed it out to Dad. I thought it was so pretty and unique. My hybrid mountain/road bike was a patriotic blue color and most other bikes I saw were white, red, blue, or maybe yellow. This one stood apart. Dad told me it wasn't just the color that made that sea-foam green bike special; it was a very expensive and especially good bicycle. It was a Bianchi. They make Biachis in other colors, but this sea-foam shade is the classic Biachi hue and is most recognizable. It is known as Celeste.

For quite a few more years, I happily rode my hybrid Raleigh and was content. But this summer, I have been given the chance to purchase a Celeste Bianchi from my sister-in-law for an incredibly affordable price. I borrowed the bike last week to give it a try. They say "It's like riding a bike" to refer to something natural and completely easy. When I straddled Celeste for the first time and put my hands to the curled handlebars... I felt I had never been on a bike before in my life. The shape my body assumed, the pressure points and aches that instantly became sensitive, even the way my leg muscles reacted to each stroke... it was a feeling unlike anything I've encountered on a bike. Still, I'd never felt more like a cyclist than when on that sea-foam Bianchi. I'm riding her again this weekend, and very excited to get a better feel for her and put a few miles under our belts together. I have a feeling Celeste and I are going to become good friends.

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Early this week, some Facebook news sank like a knife into my nostalgic heart. First, a bit of background: About three and a half years ago, I spent three months at Oxford University with a student exchange program. I lived in a delightful British house with 21 other American students and our British Junior Dean. The program, SCIO, owned the home and had been housing students there for years. This week I learned that SCIO has sold the house. As with the loss of a childhood home, a grandparent's backyard, or an elementary playground, the loss of this house has chopped out a piece of my heart. Although chances were quite slim I would ever venture back to 8 Crick Road, there was a certain peace in knowing it was always there. The crazy quilt still in the living room. The sink still in my bedroom downstairs. The tea kettle still in the kitchen and the freezer in the library. The washing machine spinning constantly with someone's clothes and the map of Cracker Barrel restaurants still tacked up in the powder room. I liked knowing that if the Road ever took me back to Oxford, 8 Crick would be waiting for me. Now, that hope is gone.

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 Tuesday brought a culinary success with my attempt at Peppered Pork Sandwiches. Peter was a bit skeptical, and even asked why I don't stick with recipes I already know, but in the end he enjoyed it too. I have not had good success with pork in the past, and was hoping for a first success. I cut boneless pork chops into strips and then in half so the pieces were about an inch and a half long and less than half an inch thick. Then I peppered them - coarse pepper would have been better, but regular black worked fine - and tossed with olive oil, then sauteed them until cooked through. It took about 10 minutes, maybe, and the pork was deliciously tender. Then I threw in some chopped roasted red peppers from a jar and let the whole thing warm on the stove. In the meantime, I whipped up a quick sauce of mayonnaise, a little Parmesan dressing, a few splashes of milk, and one minced garlic clove, adding more mayo until it was thick enough to spread. I didn't buy pitas, but used some good bolillo rolls from the Giant bakery. We spread these with the sauce, then spooned on the pork and peppers, and enjoyed sandwiches that made me think of a carnival. They were perfect. I think I've just secured my go-to pork recipe.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Vacation Is... (Part II)

Tuesday, July 5: After work, Peter and I went to Mom and Dad's house to pick up the bikes. Then we were on our way to Peahala Park, NJ on Long Beach Island. Over the bridge, along the straight, thin roads of New Jersey, around a couple round-abouts, and in just over two hours, we were there. Jon and Kim met us at 104 Sailboat Ave, our cottage, and helped us unpack. A few hot dogs later, we were off to bed.

Wednesday, July 6: Finding a coffeepot in the cottage kitchen, but no filters, I improvised with paper towels and made a pot of just-drinkable coffee. Then we whipped up some pancakes, and chopped some strawberries, and by the time Jon and Kim were up, it was breakfast time! We enjoyed a delicious meal in the little dining room, then packed up and walked down to the beach. From towel, to chair, to ocean, to towel again, we relaxed throughout much of the day on the shores of the Atlantic. In the late afternoon, we went back to the house and took turns in the shower, then Peter and I drove down to ACME for some dinner items and we grilled up burgers for dinner. With a little leftover baked beans and fruit salad, it was a perfect meal. Afterwards, we took a stroll to Skipper Dipper for ice cream, and then Jon and Kim headed home.
Peter and I hopped on our bikes for an evening ride and stopped to watch the sunset on Winifred Street, where his family's cottage still stands although it was sold many years ago.

Thursday, July 7: We began the day with a bike ride up the island to the Haymarket, Peter's favorite toystore in the world. On the way, we stopped in at Bageleddi's for breakfast and enjoyed our muffin and bagel on the bench outside. After browsing the toystore, we rode back home and got ready for the beach. It was a beautiful day. Peter got me in the water a few times, although I'm usually a sand-dweller, and we took a walk down the shoreline. In the afternoon, we took a drive to browse some shops including The Wizard of Odds, Firefly, and Lucille's Candies. We bought some fudge and taffy, and then cozied up back at the cottage (in front of the food network - we don't get cable at home!) with chicken soup from the crock pot. Later, we took a little stroll on the beach.

Friday, July 8: A cloudy morning delayed our beaching, but we sat on the deck and read our books for a little while, then beached a little later. In the afternoon, Mom, Dad and Shanna arrived and we went back to the beach. In the evening, we drove out for dinner, and picked - simply because it looked local and not too crowded - a place called Boulevard Clams. It turned out to be a fish market that also had about ten tables for eat-in diners. It was clearly a local joint, friendly, homey, and casual. I ordered lemonade, which came in a plastic quart container. Huge! Allen, our awesome waiter, also got me some Advil for my very painful sunburn. We all ordered seafood -- even me! Dijon salmon, which I really enjoyed. It was a very enjoyable meal. Three cheers for Allen and Boulevard Clams!

Saturday, July 9: Mom and Dad picked up coffee and donuts for us Saturday morning and we snacked while packing and cleaning. We spent a little time on the beach in the morning, walking in the shallows and sitting on the sand, then we finished up back at the cottage and drove the key down to the Real Estate Office to check out. For the rest of the day, we headed up to the northern end of the island to the lighthouse. We walked on the jetty and climbed the lighthouse. Before heading home we had lunch at Viking Village and browsed the cutesy shops there.

Peahala Park, Long Beach Island and 104 Sailboat Ave, thanks for a lovely little getaway.
Hope to see you again next year!

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Honey, I saved the dinner... Maybe.

Dinner was flavorless tonight. I can't figure out why, because it was a fairly tried and true recipe, something I call Tie the Knot Pesto Pasta. It's basically bow-tie pasta (although tonight I used penne, which I had), tossed with sauteed chicken, peppers, and onions with about 4 tablespoons of basil pesto sauce. I've loved this meal in the past, but tonight it lacked its usual flair. Admittedly, I did things a little differently. There was the penne instead of the bow-ties. Then I swapped the peppers out for zucchini which I had instead. Also, the chicken had been frozen, although I've never thought that makes a difference. As far as my cooking knowledge goes, it should have come out the same. It did not.

My attempt to save dinner: make it into a casserole! I browsed my cookbooks for chicken casserole recipes, and found a common ingredient: cream of chicken soup. So, I went down to the Farm Store. I needed milk anyway, so it was worth the trip. (However, I did waste at least ten whole minutes talking myself out of buying chocolate chip cake, blueberry muffins, and cinnamon raisin bread - all freshly made, and oh-so-tempting.) Sadly, the Farm Store does not carry such lazy-cook necessities as cream of chicken soup, so back at home I whipped up a quick alfredo of butter, flour, milk, chicken broth (which may have been in the fridge for over a month, but smelled fine), and some seasonings. When this had thickened, I added it to the skillet meal, dumped the whole thing into a casserole dish, and topped it with Italian shredded cheese.

It's out of the oven now - baked at 350 for about 25 minutes. Jury's still out, though, on the results. Fingers are crossed.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Vacation Is... (Part I)

Friday, July 1: After work, dinner of fried chicken from Giant, buttery rice, and a steaming skillet of veggies. Get a call from a friend as we're cleaning up. He's house-sitting for rich family. With a pool. And kittens. Come over to hang out? We do.

Saturday, July 2: Get up, do grocery shopping, pick up bike roof rack from Dad. Come home and bake summer berry pie. Drive to Peter's Aunt and Uncle's house. Hang out in the pool in brand new blue and white Polo swimsuit. Have a long chat with sister-in-law, Jess. Have a delicious dinner that involves corn on the cob and taco salad. Play Rummikub and string lights up outside for Aunt Pam.

Sunday, July 3: Church. Go for 13 mile bike ride with Peter and Dad that includes stop at Rita's. In the evening, head back to rich house where friend is house-sitting. Kitten cuddling. Steak and veggies on the grill. (Mmmm!) Swimming in the dark in lit-up pool.

Monday, July 4: Wake up early. Meet best friend MJ at the outlets for killer sales. Walk away with some bold, fun finds including yellow belt, purple shorts, headbands, bright blue short-sleeved sweater/shrug, faux boat shoes, and blue and white cross-body purse. Come home and make best-in-the-universe macaroni and cheese. Drive to Maryland for annual Dowdy Family Picnic. Chow down on cheeseburger, calico beans, macaroni and cheese, and pasta salad. Float aimlessly in pool admiring the gorgeous babies of my cousins. Eat several desserts. Start driving home. Pull over in elementary school parking lot to watch gorgeous sunset. Relive childhood on slides and swings. Drive home to start packing for vacation. Drive back to school parking lot to watch local fireworks.

Tuesday, July 5: Go to work (ick). Come home and leave for the beach!

Part II to follow!

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Necessity

Necessity is the Mother of Invention.

Example 1:
In our shower, we have two suction-cup hooks on which we hang our loofas. I use the fluffy mesh kind. Peter prefers the sea sponge variety. When I bought Peter a new loofa this weekend, it did not have a loop of cord to serve as a hanging mechanism. Determined to hang that loofa on its hook, I got some twine from our closet and a big yarn needle. With the twine threaded through the needle, I pierced the loofa, pulled the twine through, and knotted it. Voila: a hanging loop.

Example 2:
We're preparing to go on vacation, so I am emptying my fridge of perishable such as milk. I had used a whole entire quart of milk in Monday's macaroni and cheese which I took to the Dowdy Picnic. This morning, my coffee needed a lightening agent, so I squirted in some whipped cream. Mmmm.

OK, not all that inventive, but small triumphs.
Little bursts, if you will. (an Olive Kitteridge reference)