It's Real Cheese-y!

A trial run at a Jamie Oliver recipe ~ and it felt like I’d run a mile - ending with crossing the finish line #1! There was lots of chopping - fennel, leeks, garlic. Having never worked with either fresh fennel or leeks, I had to run back and forth from kitchen to you-tube, from kitchen to table to find all the details that a recipe doesn’t necessarily provide. Like how to clean leeks, and how to cut up fennel (Martha Stewart was my teacher on that last one), when to put in the various cheeses and how much - grated or pinched off in pieces - better known as flavour bombs. My son, Jason backed me up when I needed the pasta drained or when I needed a missing ingredient. The final taste testing was our supper - it was superbly delicious. The next test will be to see how it tastes in the morning - cold from the refrigerator; and secondly, how will it freeze with all the dairy in it. 

From:  Jamie Cooks Italy

            Lasagna ~ Leeks and Fennel

    Cheeses:  Parmeson, 

            Teleggio, (substituted with Havarti)

                            Gorgonzola, (substituted with Blue Cheese)

                            Ball of Mozzerella 

“Good food is a global thing and I find that there is always 

something new and amazing to learn ~ I love it!

~ Jamie Oliver

A Cat Tale - Especially Hungry!

What was special about today? It was the same as yesterday, and the day before. Except that when I tried to wake her up this morning, she only spoke sharply to me. Rather rude. Picking up the black thing that scares me when it makes noise, she looked at it, groaned and ducked back under the covers. Really, she didn’t even have to be fully awake ~ just get up and take care of me. An early breakfast would have been preferable. All I got was curtains drawn at the window. Oh well, although it took some time, she finally fed me ~  but of course not until she had her own food ready!

“When Rome burned, the emperor’s cats still expected to be fed on time,”

~ Seanan McGuire

 

The Quiet of Home

Sitting in the quiet of home

mind stilled 

the need for busy

vanished

restlessness subsided

like an afternoon wind

no feeling of a vacuum

demanding to be filled

just sitting comfortably

in the quiet of home.

“Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;

The quiet mind is richer than a crown;…”

~ Original text Robert Greene, 

Greenes Farewell to Folly

(W.White, 1617)

 

Chapter Two, Episode 150 - Bruised - Situationally Theirs

Bruised

Emelina Beaufort had not been alone that night. She had been so unaware of anything around her she could only feel the emptiness. Sarah, the Estate’s little ghost girl, was and still is, watching over her. For everyone else at the Estate, the pandemic had not seemed to have occurred.

~~~~~

It seemed like a bad dream. Everyone but Miss Em had gone away and now everyone was back. Despite the nostalgia about ‘the good old days’, to have those days back made Elizabeth shudder. Never much of a people person, she had almost enjoyed the lockdown. She was rested like she hadn’t been in years. It was only when she stopped thinking about the next menu, whether the pantry needed stocking or the freezer cleaned out was she able to see her own home. She cleaned her little place until she couldn’t clean it any more. With no coming in and going out, no visitors - it was usually only Samuel - there was seldom any dirt tracked in. Sometimes, after she’d been for a walk she felt like a rebellious teenager, making sure to track dirt in, throw down her coat on the chair rather than on the coat rack. 

“Elizabeth, dear, what are you muttering about?” Martha had been watching her friend tidying up the kitchen at day’s end; saw her shaking her head; tried to hear what she was fussing about and finally decided to just ask. “Oh, nothing much.” She finished up and took her purse out of the cupboard above the stove. “Didn’t look like much, dear. And I thought I heard ‘lockdown’ - we’ve all done with that nonsense.”

“Don’t you ever feel……I don’t know…..kind of strange sometimes?” Putting her jacket on, she stopped halfway, only one arm in a sleeve. “It’s ok when you or James or maybe one other person is here, but more than that, I just feel almost nervous. I can’t pay attention to what I’m doing.” She shrugged her jacket on, buttoned it up and was about to leave. “Oh, Elizabeth, I had no idea you felt like that. I’m so sorry! I’m not sure I’ve had a problem. James is always with me at home.” Martha, also readying herself to go home, was quiet. “I guess it’s only if a new person comes into the mix….like when Phillip started working with James. It took me longer to get used to him. Oh, maybe we’re just getting old, Elizabeth.” Martha laughed and patted her greying hair. 

“It is a bother, though. It’s been easy to slide back into our routines, and maybe be a little more relaxed about getting things done. Just surprised me when I started to notice being a bit edgy. Samuel’s even been more distant ~ we talked about that. He just thought I was worrying too much.” The two women walked to the door together. “James is in town right now. Even so, I’d best get home and get supper started. Will you be all right, dear?” Outside, Elizabeth looked up at the evening sky. It had rained earlier in the day, a light but steady rain, leaving the yard wet, smelling fresh and clean. She breathed deeply of the cool air. “Oh course, I will Martha. I’m getting used to people again. The better part of three years away from the activity of people coming and going, making my home cosy and safe almost spoiled me. There were times when I could have stayed there forever……” she laughed…… “until I got bored or lonely and called one of you. If I couldn’t get Samuel, I’d call you. I’ll be fine.” She hugged her friend. “Now you get on home to that handsome husband of yours. I’ve been so happy for the two of you - that’s one time during the pandemic that we all gathered together. The two of you getting married and having that lovely party outside was tonic for all of us.” 

As the sun set behind the trees, the clear sky looked bruised from the receding brilliance. The two women went their separate ways, Martha to her cottage and husband; Elizabeth to her little nest that she had come to know and love. To the first star that twinkled in the sky she said, “Life is pretty good.” She raised a hand to Samuel coming across the yard to meet her. “Supper at my house, Samuel?” In silent agreement, he fell into step beside her. One night bird called and then the air was still.

“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.”

~ Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley,  Frankenstein

On an Afternoon Walk - An Attack!

So lovely. This little white butterfly sitting on a leaf in the late afternoon sun. Suddenly, a wicked wasp headed straight for it. It took off before the attack was in full waspishness. 

“A power of Butterfly must be ~ 

The Aptitude to fly……”

~ Emily Dickinson

Again

Again

“I’m too old to start again.” Standing at the mirror, a full length one at that, Adele agreed with her reflection.“So, we won’t. We’ll start something much bigger. Just you and I.” Adele Marie Wilmington had been a successful business woman. Retirement came to her with a surprise. She, and her staff, thought she would be carried out the door before she would accept retirement. The clothing design company had been her baby. From her mother’s kitchen table designing ball gowns for paper dolls to school fashion shows and on to a Master’s Degree in Fashion Design, she never stopped looking at clothes and fabrics. Often quoted with her directive to staff: “You can’t have one without the other. Fabric makes the garment and the garment makes the fabric.” There was one day when she knew she was done with the whole business. She had a special love for natural fabrics: real cotton, real wool, real silk. Business models had made it necessary that she bowed to the synthetic world of fabric. So much so that even business felt false and synthetic. When she heard herself being called a legend, and ‘the grand dame of fashion’, at first she was proud but slowly she heard it in a different light. For some she’d been put on a pedestal, for others……well, she saw the smirks, overheard one or two snide comments about ‘too old’. Most of her contemporaries had either retired to Florida or some island in the Caribbean. Unfortunately she’d had to attend too many funerals. The C.E.O.’s she dealt with were young enough to be her children and even one her granddaughter. The day she retired, she came out of her office above the cutting room floor and called for silence. A very large room, it took the supervisors time to rush around and have all scissors and measuring tapes put down. The models, in various states of undress or draped in Adele’s cherished fabrics, impatiently did as they were told. She spoke into a microphone “I have an announcement to make, but first I want to thank everyone for your hard work. I know some of you have been here since I began this company. Your leadership bringing everyone else on board has been invaluable. For everyone else who has joined us, you have made this company what it has become. My dream.” A catch in her throat, she hesitated, dabbed her eyes with her ever present delicate cotton handkerchief. Continuing she said “Today, I am retiring effective 5pm. I will no longer be in the office but will work from home until I decide who should take over from me. My secretary, Annie Fitzgerald, will be in charge along with the floor supervisors.” A gasp rose from the floor in unison. Then the murmurs about who and what and why today began. Adele clapped her hands. “Everyone, please, return to your work. My office door will be open for anyone that has questions or concerns.” Her secretary had been informed that morning of an ‘announcement’ and had a light lunch and coffee ready for her employer. Adele’s office, at the level of a second floor suite, had a small balcony where she retired to after the tension of her bold action. There, looking out over a city park, she breathed deeply of the air that felt fresher, even with any traffic fumes. Her shoulders felt lighter. She hugged herself, preventing herself from cheering to the people below, like Scrooge on Christmas morning.

Now here she was at home, her shocking white hair pulled back in her signature bun, wearing a long, flowing white silk caftan, gold slippers showing her pedicured toes. “What big thing are we going to do?” She and her reflection laughed out loud. “We’re going shopping for crayons and paper dolls. If I have to go to Toronto, Vancouver, Paris or New York City to find just the right ones, that’s what we’ll do. I have to find myself all over again because none of us are ever too old for that.”

“It’s never too late to go out and get that feeling back.”

~ Loretta Switt

 

Moving

Moving

The house wasn’t the same to her anymore. Nothing really had changed. At least not that much. Clarisse still had the same old comfortable furniture. His hoodie still hung on the hook by the front door. She had told him not to forget it, but was glad that he did. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the strange feeling. Walking into her kitchen she ran her hands over counters free of toast crumbs and spilled milk. The dining room was hers now. Just a low vase of pink and mauve sweet peas graced the polished wood. Starting to smile, she rubbed her hands together. “I’m going upstairs……to the bathroom.” It was clean! No wet towels on the floor, smushed tube of toothpaste….in the garbage. She straightened the colour coded towels on the wicker rack next to the sink. The mirror, free of streaks and splashes, showed each of her well deserved wrinkles in clarity. Stepping out in the hall, she peered into his room. The bed was made! No sign of teenage years. The closet was empty……almost. A deflated football, old sneakers (Phew!!). Picking them up between two fingers, holding them far away she put them in an empty trash basket. “That comes downstairs with me.” She opened her bedroom door….wide. Her room was always neat as pin, but as long as she lived with family, or had guests, she kept it closed. “Hmmmm. Maybe, I’ll get a pet….may have to keep the door closed then; but we’ll seec” She stood still and inhaled the silence of her house. The house wasn’t the same to her anymore and she would miss the disarray. She would miss her son, his clumping down the stairs, slamming the door on the way out, leaving the refrigerator door open, playing the horrendous noise that he called music, always on his phone or tablet. “Sorry Mom!” echoed. She took his hoodie off the hook, held it to her nose and breathed deeply. Then coughed and took it to the washing machine. “He’ll be back. He’s only 500 miles away at university.”

“If you want to become full, let yourself be empty.”

~ Lao Tzu

**Random first line from writingexercises.co.uk