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

Posts Tagged ‘Recipe’

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Tomatoes

In Faith, Family, Food, Garden, Photography, Writing on January 6, 2016 at 5:15 pm

Garden Harvest of San Marzanos

Spring’s ground holds such promise.  Black earth rested.  Ready for new life. Working the soil, strong hands turn heavy dirt. Broken free from winter’s hold, it tumbles loose through pitchfork tines.  Falling first, but landing soft and crumbling fine.  Good earth; the sower’s open canvas. Painted in strokes of hope, patience and endurance. Loved into yields of multiplying abundance.

tomatoe closeup
I’ve always been an organized gardening type. Drawn to admire the formal gardens of centuries old.  Clipped and hedged to absolute perfection.  Box woods in neat rows outlining secret mazes.   Or a prized, but hidden rose garden. Perhaps those imagined or more likely inspired into my consciousness.  Sprung to life off the worn pages of a beloved English novel or two. Read More

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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.

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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>