Birthday Boy

Watching Jack at his third birthday party was such a joy. He was so thrilled by every little thing, from the cake the cards to the Hot Wheels to the books. He seemed to love it all and be genuinely grateful for the food, the company, and the presents. Jack is just such a sweet kid. Why, oh why do they have to grow up so fast?

Giving Thanks

There's always so much to be grateful for, and we don't need a special day to remind us of those things: four healthy kids, enough to eat, a roof over our heads, so many loved ones. We're lucky to get to celebrate most Thanksgivings with James' sister Jill and her husband Bob, and all of their kids and grandchildren. The table in Jill's dining room gets longer every year, and there's still room to grow. They live in a wonderful house right on the Delta, and Claire and Wynham made a brief stop in their whirlwind of play with the cousins to peer into the swirling waters. A big brother taking the time to take his little sister's hand -- I am truly thankful for that sweet, quiet moment...

Squeal of Fortune

Claire was so thrilled to get the easel she's been begging for on the occasion of her sixth birthday, she squealed with delight. Her presentation of the gifts she received would make Vanna White proud. I lamented to my friend Deb that Claire had already gone through an entire roll of paper, in less than 24 hours. She said, "What are materials in the face of creativity?" Claire obviously agrees with that sentiment: this morning when I suggested she go a little easier on the amount of paper she was using, she replied, "What do expect me to do, Mom? Art is my passion; it's my LIFE!" Sigh. Who am I to stand in the way of greatness?

Pot Pie, Oh My!

When I asked James what he wanted for dinner last night and he said, "pot pie," I was only too happy to oblige. Back in June I asked John, one the owners of the wonderful Dipsea Cafe, if he would be willing to divulge the recipe for the Dipsea's fabulous Chicken Pot Pie -- it's really the best I've ever tasted! He was so nice about it: not only did he send me the recipe, he tweaked it to a home-sized portion.

At first I thought I was reading it wrong: the recipe for six pot pies calls for almost a pound-and-a-half of butter. That's nearly a stick of butter per pie! I was beginning to understand why their version tastes so darn good...

I sautéed the leeks, carrots, celery and onion in a pan, and Chloé sifted in the flour as soon as the veggies were soft. After that, we added the chicken stock and watched a gorgeous gravy form -- I love food science! I chopped up chicken to mix in with peas and potatoes, while Chloé drifted off to play romantic melodies on the piano.

Claire jumped into the project at that point -- anything to do with pastry is right up her alley. I have to say, I fail miserably in this arena. Always have. Always will, I'm afraid. But Claire rolled up her sleeves and rolled out the sage-infused crust, and the Chanticleer on top was her own idea, a final flourish.

The pies were beautiful, the filling delicious, but my crust didn't achieve the golden perfection of the ones served at the Dipsea. Sadly, pastry is my downfall. Can anyone out there help me get over this problem? Everyone slurped it up, so it wasn't total failure. And if you're pastry proficient, you can indulge yourself with this recipe, posted on Coco's Kitchen. But I have to tell you: next time I get a craving for chicken pot pie, I'm going to the Dipsea Cafe.

Ethereal Echos

I'm still at a loss for words to honor my grandmother; she was so completely divine in so many ways, and her legacy is so far-reaching. Here is a humble start; just a few memories and photos.

Autumn Leaves

Claire, Jack and I paid a visit to see "Auntie" Laura in the East Bay today, spending about three hours at Tumble & Tea, a great cafe/playroom where adults can have a (relatively) undisturbed conversation while kids bounce off the padded walls. It's a little different from the triple espresso get-togethers Laura and I used to have at Cafe Roma 25 years ago (after French 101 classes at U.C. Berkeley), but we take what we can get. Claire, ever the prowling artist, found some woodgrain contact paper and some sponges and created this tribute to the colors of fall. I love it.

Star Light, Star Bright

Often, when I wake up in the wee hours of the morning and the sky is clear, I'm comforted by the familiar sight of Orion hovering above the western horizon. I know he has something of a bad boy reputation, but I consider him a friend, a confidant. From where I lie, clinging to the last few calm moments of the day, it seems as though he's leaping off the eaves of our roof into the vast black pool of the Pacific Ocean, just beyond the hills of West Marin. Sometimes, I want to go too.

I wonder what he's doing: Is he paying his dad an early morning visit? Is he weary from his constant journey? Is he having any fun? What would Orion say about Intelligent Design? James says I think too much and he's probably right, especially here, in the quiet, in the dark. I savor this complicity with the stars, though, and I know that when the sun cracks the day wide open, I won't have any time to think at all. I'll save the rest of my questions for another night, after Orion's had time to hunt for some answers...

Aged to Perfection

November is a busy month for birthdays amongst our friends and family. Although Karen says she doesn't like birthdays, you'll have to agree that she looks pretty darn good for thirty-nine-again. She requested steak for dinner and cheesecake for dessert, so we pulled out all the stops and made butter-and-cream mashed potatoes and a Cabernet reduction, too. (Wynham is itching to snag the dregs of the wine glass as soon as I'm not looking...) Going out can be good, but staying home can be better!