Loaves and Fishes

The fog had not yet lifted when we reached the coast yesterday morning. We had a client meeting on a construction site; the three-story home-to-be, on a hillside overlooking Princeton Harbor, had an uninterrupted view all the way to the horizon. The white breakers crashing on the far Northern periphery, a distant reminder of the brutal waves of Mavericks surfing fame.

We headed down, after our meeting, to see what the fishing boats might have to offer. These incredibly fresh Rockfish inspired us to cook up a storm and invite some friends over to share our catch.

Six fishes (not five), a loaf of crusty bread and some wine, were the basics around which we crafted our meal. Adding Belgian endives and garnishing with parsley, garlic, fennel, shallots and tomatoes produced a visual feast as well as a flavorful one.

I had gone back to the office for the afternoon, leaving The Artistic One at home to work on his computer and prep our dinner for later that evening.

I was quite pleased to have worked uninterrupted for a few hours and headed for home around five o'clock, stopping to buy brown sugar and cookies to crumble over the apples I was planning on baking for dessert.
We have a family saying: " If we don't have a fire or a flood then it's not a real party!"

TAOne's car was not in the driveway. The front door of our house was unlocked. This is a frequent occurrence when TAO leaves in a whirlwind of creativity, keys and locks are often disregarded.

Once inside, I was alarmed by the smell of burning. I rushed to the kitchen to see what had been left on the burner and forgotten.

I had never imagined that anyone could succeed in burning vegetable soup! My big, heavy, stainless steel saucepan had a two inch (5cm) black crust around the inside, bottom edge. It was no longer hot but the smell had invaded the whole house. TAO had opened doors and windows and left to get groceries.

I turned on the oven and started making my apple crumble, as much to counteract the bitter smokiness, as to be ready for our guests.

It took a lot of scrubbing with abrasive cleaning powder to return my big pot to functionality. If it hadn't been stainless I would have tossed it out without even trying. I have had several opportunities to test my skills in burned-pot redemption.

TAO was soon back with his purchases. As I went to put away cheese and butter in the overflow fridge in our garage, I was distracted from my huff about the burnt soup; TAO had put away the fish earlier, still in its plastic bag, topped up with crushed ice. The slightly pink and fishy juice had dribbled all over the refrigerator, flooding the drawers, creating a nasty pulpy mess of the paper-towel liners I had put in.

The whole thing had to be mopped up and cleaned from top to bottom right away.

With both of our talisman fire and flood elements taken care of, it boded well for our party. We were expecting Lovely Daughter and SIL, with new addition Enzo the standard black Schnauzer. The other couple to whom we had allocated a fish each are longtime friends I know I could call in an emergency. I know they would respond but I also know they would be late in responding and have a very good excuse and it would be totally someone else's fault.

Friends are friends, warts and all. Right?

My invite to them was to come at seven'ish. At two minutes to eight, as we all waited and wondered, they appeared with a bottle of wine and a tale about the idiot who had messed up their bill and taken a half hour to sort it out. Sigh! 

I had a hard time steering our dinner conversation away from politics, as we have just had mid-term elections. I don't mind a give and take conversation about issues and performance but a monologue kept getting launched, that I have heard before, full of Urban legends, conspiracy theories and bigotry. 

When it got to a list of black men who are superior enough to "Transcend their blackness" (as opposed to our President, who apparently does not), Will Smith was the shining example. 

First of all "Blackness" is not something that needs to be transcended. Secondly, listing Will Smith as a not too offensively black example of blackness, because you like his acting, is a bit like a comparison to Roman Polanski, who can transcend being a pedophile by directing good movies.

The trend did not improve and my patience wore thin. The trouble with friends you have known for twenty years, is that there is less restraint on both sides. 

I usually let them rant on with just a passing mention of my disagreement with their point of view and/or a smiling reproach that magical thinking and viral internet postings do not a fact make.

Last night I put a damper on the hysteria with a strong reminder that good friends should know, and take into account, the fact that not everyone agrees with them. I told them how rude and disrespectful I found it to be steamrollered again and again because I was too polite to tackle them head on.

I think my message was received this time. There was a moment or two of awkwardness and shock followed by dessert and the very late addition of  a mutual friend who was divorcing her unfaithful, alcoholic husband as she'd found he'd cleaned her out financially and not paid taxes. He recently fell or was pushed and fatally hit his head whilst out with his girlfriend. It has since been discovered that someone put sugar in his car's gas tank as well, so it is ruined.

As well as burying her past, our friend has a week left to vacate her home which she is now losing. She is moving to a much smaller space and holding a sale tomorrow of furniture and belongings she cannot keep.  Political Monologue friend had worked all day sorting and tagging possessions for  the sale; certainly living the experience as a precursor to what might still be ahead for her family as she lives on the edge of foreclosure. In the years we have known one another she has lost two siblings and a niece to cancer. She is without health insurance and afraid to get any health exams as they might not only show a problem but then it would be on record as a pre-existing condition and she couldn't qualify for insurance if she could afford it. This same woman is viscerally against the one man who is trying to make health care available to her. She lives in fear either way.
All three of us have been as supportive of one another as possible, referring business back and forth to one another whenever we can and talking on the phone to worry through problems.
The greatest achievement is just the fact that we are all still here.
Much like the deceptively calm waters in Princeton harbor, in Life as in Friendships, there are rocks lurking beneath the surface and rogue waves that will try to drown us. If we're going to make it through we'd better keep finding a way to pull together, regardless of our differences.
I know what I'm going to say next time I speak with P.M. Friend:  "Will Smith for President!"

Only a Dish

A beautiful morning, this morning, without extremes of heat or wind. Much appreciated as my riding lesson was cancelled on Friday due to the chilly and turbulent  wind storm. The covered arena was full of pony-club camp kids and the prevailing opinion was that alone, up in the jumping paddock, if falling branches didn't kill me, Jeddah just might.
Today was perfect. 10 am on a Sunday morning, a few minutes early so I grabbed my schooling book and went over the aids and figures for leg yielding. I have ridden Jeddah twice before and he has the sensitivity and responsiveness of a thoroughbred, ex-racehorse tempered by a few years of being ridden by somewhat inexperienced riders. The first few times I applied some serious leg I was met by tail swishing and kicking out. He also has an opinion about cantering only on the right lead, whether we are going clockwise or not and is in the habit of falling into the slowest walk imaginable, rather than maintaining forward movement, when we transition down from trot. He is not fooling me. I can feel his potential and achieve some tangible results during my half hour private sessions. After a dozen minutes of warm-up we got good rythmic trot gaits and improved downward transitions. Half halts, serpentines and repetitions of trot to walk, trot again, then back to walk and repeat. The leg evasions have greatly diminished and he is tracking-up with his rear end, so very nice in my hand.
The leg-yielding went well, now that he is no longer flipping out when I pull my leg back behind the girth. We had no more of the pokey nose, upside down neck and back feel that was in evidence initially. Progress is progress. Little steps forward are fine with me. I've asked to ride Jeddah again so that we can keep at it. Once or twice a week is not enough, of course, but it's better than nothing.
Back home with a sweaty smile on my face, Hubby was launched into the preparations of Saucisson de Lyon en Croute, a large pork sausage boiled with leeks, potatoes and carrots then fished out, wrapped in pastry and baked in the oven. The house was already filled to over-flowing with tasty aromas.
I wanted to share my pleasure and try to explain why I get a kick out of riding. I haven't completely given up on some kind of understanding dawning one day. (It's only been a few decades, I don't give up easily).
As Hubby was preparing the pastry it caught my eye that the electric stove-top ring, on which he had placed an empty pyrex dish, was getting redder and redder. I should stop here and explain that this issue has come up before. As far back as 1982, when I took my Artistic Frenchman on a tour of Britain, to meet his soon to be family-in-law, we had a similar incident at my Aunt Helen's house in Scotland. One cracked pyrex dish, a melted plastic spatula and eggs, milk and cheese gratin dripping everywhere sent poor Aunt Helen off to bed with a headache and a twitchy eye. We cleaned up, purchased new kitchen equipment and tried not to frighten any other family members during our stay.
It is hard for me to understand someone who repeats the same behaviors expecting different outcomes. A sign of madness, arrogance or optimism? I retrieved the dish from it's glowing perch and went to gently place it on the metal stove top. (I knew not to put it on the cold tile counter). It was too far gone already and began with a small cracking noise, like an ice cube going into an aperitif. It blew. Glass crystals spread far and wide all over counters, stove and kitchen floor. I left to go take my shower. Nothing to say on my part, that has not been said before. "I always hope they will improve the quality of their dishes" said Hubby. " Now I must find another one"
Lunch was great and very tasty, we were lucky that the glass bits didn't make it into our food. I swept up and we opened a bottle of wine to enjoy with our lunch. I did not go down the thorny path of recriminations, although I had lost my "Buzz" from my equine encounter rather more quickly than usual. C'est la vie!

Inescapable Pancakes!

I am tired and grumpy. We have house guests who flew in from France yesterday so we already did one major dinner - on a Monday night no less! Between the wine I consumed and having jet-lagged people wandering around talking on the phone at 4 am. I am not my perky self today. Now we add in Fat Tuesday and the French hankering for "Crepes" this evening, plus a premonition of what my kitchen will look like after husband has spread flour and eggs everywhere, and you get the picture. I almost hope he really does burn us down tonight. We have a family motto that has stuck over the years: If there's no Fire and no Flood how can you call it a party?