I've Got the Parmesan Blues

I forgot to re-up my mega-supply of parmesan cheese this week at the supermarket. Known for whipping Italian meals together without ever referring to a recipe, I’m wondering just what we are going to eat this week without grated cheese. Instead of trekking all the way back to the store for parmesan, do you think this could be a sign?

I’ve needed a little drama in the kitchen lately, so maybe the absence of parmesan is a worthy crisis. Instead of resorting to the old pasta and veggie standby (a parmesan required ingredient), this week I’ll have to get a little bit more creative.

Luckily, I recently made a commitment to preparing at least one new dish each week. Therefore, my cupboards are filled with new spices and ingredients. Measuring cups and spoons have resurfaced, and friends have lent an empathic ear.

It’s Jamie’s fault for my recent affair with pineapple black bean enchiladas. Within the last two weeks, I have made this dish four (okay 5) times. Maybe it’s the intermingling of the sweet pineapples and red peppers - along with the spiciness of the enchilada sauce -that give those bland black beans a tango worth tasting!

The ticklish idea of grading the “zest” of a lemon prompted me for last night’s new meal: Pork Chops with Sage and Lemon Breadcrumbs. This one was discovered in Real Simple magazine, but yet it had the most peculiar mix of ingredients: tomato sauce, lemon, sage, and breadcrumbs. My favorite part of preparing this meal was mixing the fresh sage, lemon, and garlic into a bowl of breadcrumbs with my bare hands.

With these two dishes under my belt, I’m excited about this challenge of making it through the week without parmesan. Plus, they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. I wonder if that includes cheese?

Postscript #1: Literally moments ago my garlic press split in half.
Postscript#2: If you read this far and would like either recipes, I’d be happy to share them with you.

A Few Poems

The Beach

there is no mystery in a wave
the moon pulls and the rest behaves
and what washes upon the shore
is a reminder that life once began in a shell.


Untitled

i’m anonymous –
holding onto pieces of myself with the strength
of a stereotype.
your gangster face weeps.
who shredded your smile?

The Seducer (written in my notebook while attending a philosophy course)

i was told about nietzsche, that he was dead
and love was a mere acceptance of being.

your dreams, as simple as a rose bush, secretly became mine.

maybe kierkegaard’s diary holds the answer,
or shall it remain timeless?


FLOWER POEMS

Anemone (one of my favorite flowers)

she's a grove-queen grasping for red
topless and manic, with bits of cold-black
bathing in a kettle-fizz of pink that bursts
into a numb and hot flower.


Hydrangea

i understand deadwood;
the emerging leaf
from a stem.

O Sole Mio (My Sun)

During childhood visits to Grandma’s big white house on State St., we cha-cha-cha’d from room to room stepping over sheet music scattered onto the floor from Grandpa’s guitar case. Sometimes he would take out his banjo, or would be accompanied by Uncle Pat on the accordion. Grandma was always close by, usually in the kitchen, humming a familiar tune while sprinkling sugar over something sweet.

In my late 20’s, the winter before Grandma passed away, she visited me in my Kingston apartment during Christmas vacation. We watched the three Tenors (a la Pavarotti) on my VCR about 30 times. We talked a lot that week, and I asked her many questions. She told me how Grandpa serenaded her outside her window before they were married, and that it was Aunt Rose who finally convinced her to give him a chance.

Whenever I go to a live music event, or hear Pavarotti, I always think about my grandparents. New questions always surface. Did Grandpa ever compose a song? What song was Grandma always humming? What did he sing to her that night?

Below is the English translation of O Sole Mio along with a link to the Pavarotti video performance that Grandma and I watch countless numbers of times together.

It occurred to me that this may have been “the” song.

O Sole Mio/Pavarotti
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tLE3yXAqBxc

English Translation to O Sole Mio

When I first saw you with your smile so tender

my heart was captured, my soul surrendered.

I spent a lifetime waiting for the right time

now that you're near the time is here at last!

It's now or never come hold me tight

kiss me my darling, be mine tonight.

Tomorrow will be too late

it's now or never my love won't wait.

Just like a willow we would cry an ocean

if we lost true love and sweet devotion.

Your lips excite me let your arms invite me,

for who knows when we'll meet again this way.


Postscript:
Here is another favorite performance. In particular, take special note to Jose Carrarras during the last minute of this segment.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJuPB8VZxuI&mode=related&search=

Retro-fitted and fun!

With the nickname “Cake” combined with the love of entertaining, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to buy myself one of those retro t-shirts with the famous Hostess cupcake logo. Since becoming a work-at-home mother (WAHM), my collection of hip retro t-shirts seems to be growing. My favorites include the smiling noodle-faced Spagettio t-shirt, the Rubrics Cube t-shirt that says “Pure Genius” and the Beatles t-shirt with Ringo star’s symbolic drum emblem.

A pair of blue jeans may seem like the obvious partner to a retro t-shirt. However, this surprisingly was a disappointment. Comfort is key to any WAHM. No matter how stone-cold I washed a pair of jeans, I still found them to be too stiff and scratchy, especially when sitting. Additionally, the sweatpants alternative did cross my mind. However, I was fearful that I would appear either too frumpy, or people would think I didn’t shower after the gym.

So after several experimental outfits, I finally stumbled upon my perfect uniform. I purchased several pairs of black pajama bottoms. They are light and airy enough to wear to sleep, plus have the versatility of daytime usage. They don’t look like gym pants, and they definitely look great with my retro t-shirts. I wear various combinations of this outfit just about everywhere, everyday.

If I want to give the illusion of outfit-effort, all I need to do is to switch from a retro t-shirt to a blouse, and add accessories. Last week I did this with a necklace and sandals, and no one noticed that I was in my pajama bottoms.

Look, I am aware that people have threatened to call makeover reality shows about this. But to me, going retro in the wardrobe department has been one of the glorious benefits of being a WAHM. I no longer have the morning “run in the stocking” crisis. I never have to worry about wearing the same scratchy dress pants again with a different top, hoping that nobody will notice.

For me, each day is “casual Friday”, retro-fitted, fast and fun.

Postscript: FYI: My birthday is coming up....here's a great website :) http://www.choiceshirts.com/

Zumba!

My upper arms are aching from a senior (50-plus) aerobics class that I crashed this morning. How embarrassing. How presumptuous of me to think it would be easy. I sweat, I ached, I groaned, and I even had trouble balancing myself on one of those giant red balls. Good thing I had the hindsight to bring extra water, because in between belly dancing and the samba, I needed a break. That’s right! This wasn’t a “dancing to the oldies” class at all, but a hip swinging, cha-cha stepping Zumba class with unique moves to the beat of Latin music!

The instructor, Beth, is not only a Zumba expert, but has the tanned and toned body of Brittany Spears. As a snowbird just returning from Florida (I am guessing she’s about 65), I was excited to see her and reconnect. I missed her Zumba class earlier in the week, so we mutually agreed that I could test out her 50-plus Zumba version which was about to start. “No problem” I said. This would be “trozo de tarta”.

So there I was along with six other seniors, feeling for the first time to be the “fittest” one in the group. ¡Qué un cántaro! It was evident that after the warm-up, that I was going to work extra hard to keep up with the others. Plus, I had to relearn the steps like the cumbia, merengue, mambo, rumba, flamenco and caylpso. The music she selected was very motivating, but in order to keep up with the others, I just deleted the upper arms.

Sometimes, you could hear the walls vibrating from a spinning class next door where people closer to my age seem to gravitate faithfully. I’ve been much too intimidated to take this class. Maybe its because everyone looks so serious as they put their towels over their bike as if to claim their territory. Someday I’ll venture in there, but only to see what happens when they turn off the lights.

For now, think I’ll stick with Zumba. Derived from a Columbian word meaning to move fast and have fun, I can only hope that when I turn 50, I’ll still have what it takes to Zumba like the pros at class this morning.

Postscript: For more info on Zumba, go to https://www.zumba.com/index.cfm

Alan and Lexi

"Make new friends

but keep the old

one is silver

and the other's gold."

Here is Lexi (15 months) and Alan (2 years/4 months) enjoying a wagon ride to the park.

Alan and Sumner

Saturday we spent the day with Beth and baby Sumner who is 15 months old, almost exactly a year younger than Alan. When Beth and I interned together at Benedictine back in 1996, little would I know that our career paths would coincide for so long, and now we share motherhood together. Back then, I had never even heard of the word “playdate”. We also share a love of children’s books, and went to the Saugerties Library fair together.

These photos were taken in our playroom where Sumner affectionately began hugging Alan who at first was tentative to Sumner’s advances. Yet, as you can see from these photos, Alan warmed up to him, as well as to the camera! Thanks for a great day!