The Revealing, Secret Diaries of a Not-So-Secret Foodie

Posts Tagged ‘Parenting’

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Dates

In Faith, Family, Food, Photography, Writing on January 31, 2014 at 7:49 pm
Irish Date Cake with Whipping Cream

Traditional Irish Date Cake with Whipping Cream.

Sticky cake clings to the edge of the plate. Clinging tight, refusing to let go.

“You missed a spot,” the youngest sister notices. French porcelain thin, hangs fragile in her hands. The rose-covered plate moves back towards the dish-filled sink.

“It’s a poor dish dryer that can’t help the dish washer,” the older sister reminds, elbows deep in bubbles.
Inherited bone china, held quiet, between them now.

Side-by-side sisters, sleeves rolled and cuffed clearing the mess left behind. Together in the mess; this time cups and saucers, stacked and balancing high on the counter. Beside the dessert forks and plates, cleared and bouncing in the soap. Read More

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Believe

In Faith, Family, Food, Photography, Writing on December 29, 2013 at 7:20 pm

Some of My Favorite Things.

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1.  Bright Red Wreath on White Front Door.  

This summer my husband spent many a day refurbishing things around our home.   Read the rest of this entry »

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Baby Bella

In Family, Food, Photography, Writing on October 4, 2013 at 4:24 pm
Hungarian Mushroom Soup Garnished with Sour Cream and Sprig of Dill.

Hungarian Mushroom Soup Garnished with Sour Cream and Sprig of Dill.

My family begins to gather around the table for dinner. The way we do most nights. One by one, each boy wanders into the kitchen. Waiting on his brothers, both younger and older, my middle son softly taps out a tune against the worn farmhouse table. The tines of his fork leave behind an interesting pattern of divots in the soft wood.

Early in my mothering, the patina of raising young boys was under appreciated. Not always welcomed on furniture or otherwise. Somehow back then, the shiny and unblemished gleam of the new and unchanged appealed to me. But children bring perspective. They also bring laughter and so many Legos. And then there are the lines. The worry ones worn on my brow and on some days, the dry-erase but permanent ones discovered on freshly hung Thibaut wallpaper. Sweat and tears; they bring it all.

-Read More->

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Béchamel

In Family, Food, Photography, Writing on September 17, 2013 at 8:25 am

My Dad introduced me to my first Béchamel.  Growing up it was his signature lunch special, one that he’d prepare for us on weekends. His technique was not precise and often prepared in too small a saucepan. But, it always worked and made our house smell warm with garlic.  More times than not and when I wasn’t looking, he’d toss in some minced clams.  It wasn’t until many, many meals later that I learned those little lumps in his white sauce weren’t a technical error; rather, a culinary decision.  The man liked his linguine and white sauce WITH clams.

-Read More>

My Dad introduced me to my first Béchamel.  Growing up it was his signature lunch special, one that he’d prepare for us on weekends. His technique was not precise and often prepared in too small a saucepan. But, it always worked and made our house smell warm with garlic.  More times than not and when I wasn’t looking, he’d toss in some minced clams.  It wasn’t until many, many meals later that I learned those little lumps in his white sauce weren’t a technical error; rather, a culinary decision.  The man liked his linguine and white sauce WITH clams.

-Read More>

My Dad introduced me to my first Béchamel.  Growing up it was his signature lunch special, one that he’d prepare for us on weekends. His technique was not precise and often prepared in too small a saucepan. But, it always worked and made our house smell warm with garlic.  More times than not and when I wasn’t looking, he’d toss in some minced clams.  It wasn’t until many, many meals later that I learned those little lumps in his white sauce weren’t a technical error; rather, a culinary decision.  The man liked his linguine and white sauce WITH clams.

-Read More>

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Beckoning Sea

In Faith, Family, Writing on September 6, 2013 at 10:44 am

sea beckons

Open your mind, dream,

the mighty ocean beckons me.

But who am I, small,

grain of sand on this vast beach?

Reach for the stars, dream, it repeats.

Open your heart, sing,

the warm wind whispers to me.

But words do not come.

No rhythm beats, nor note sounds!

Sing joy, sing, echoes the breeze.

Open your arms, love,

the bird soars on outstretched wings.

But I am one, alone,

one heart not two. How to love?

Love, you are loved, the bird’s call.

Close your eyes, believe,

the setting sun draws me near.

Radiant gem rests,

tucked beneath horizon’s line.

Believe, when you do not see.

Waves rise and waves fall,

washing down upon my feet.

Standing in the surf,

peace envelops me. You’re here?

Child, I am with you always.

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