Propane and cardamom
More pleasures of the flesh: food, nature, art, food ... Seems like this is all I ever write about, these days.
Last night we had Mr. A's brother and his wife over for dinner and a fire in the fire pit. We roasted two chickens with potatoes, winter squash and other fall vegetables; they brought two lobster tails and a big bottle of sake. It was a perfect clear night with lots of stars. The fire was the first one we've had this year; I celebrated by burning a big chunk of black Sumatran benzoin resin incense I picked up a few weeks ago and had been saving for just such an occasion.
This morning we got up early (well, early for a Saturday on a holiday weekend) and rode our bikes into town for breakfast. On the way home we rode through the big nature park on the west side of town, stopping at the edge of a little meadow in the middle of the park to sit on the ground and watch yellow leaves flying around high above the trees. Yellow leaves, white clouds, blue sky, tall trees swaying in the wind – it was mesmerizing, mind-clearing and soul satisfying.
I spent the afternoon out in the windy yard, bundled up in blankets and pillows like an invalid on the deck of a luxury liner, sipping water out of my favorite blue bowl and reading my book. There were millions of birds out there today, for some reason – flocks of little black ones and little brown ones descending on the apple trees, twittering there for a few minutes, and then departing en masse. Also hummingbirds – six of them at once, chasing each other around the salvias and stopping every once in awhile to sit on stems and branches and chirp at me with indignant expressions on their little hummingbird faces. They've been really aggressive for the last few weeks, swooping in so fast and so close to my face that I've actually thrown my hand up to protect my eyes, more than once.
I found my long-lost box of PMC stuff the other night and am in the process of rehydrating a couple of big chunks of it. There were a few little finished pieces in there, too, that I'm going to attempt to fire tonight with a propane torch. I've never done it that way before, but I don't have access to a kiln right now and I figure even if I end up ruining a piece or two it'll be worth it to learn how to do it this way. I used to really enjoy making little things out of this stuff and have several pages of good designs I never produced.
When I was in the hardware store buying the torch, I walked back into the lumber section to fondle the crown moldings (I'm kind of a freak for building supplies) and got swept away by the smell of some long cedar boards they were putting out. I stood in the aisle for several minutes, breathing in that smell. It reminds me of my mother.
Later I had unagi and seaweed salad at the sushi restaurant where I spent my extremely short-lived career (two days) as a waitress in about 1997. On the way home I bought vanilla ice cream, plus some rose water and a few spoonfuls of powdered cardamom to put in the rice pudding I'm making tomorrow. I love, love cardamom. It's in a little bag in the kitchen and I can smell it all through the house.
Last night we had Mr. A's brother and his wife over for dinner and a fire in the fire pit. We roasted two chickens with potatoes, winter squash and other fall vegetables; they brought two lobster tails and a big bottle of sake. It was a perfect clear night with lots of stars. The fire was the first one we've had this year; I celebrated by burning a big chunk of black Sumatran benzoin resin incense I picked up a few weeks ago and had been saving for just such an occasion.
This morning we got up early (well, early for a Saturday on a holiday weekend) and rode our bikes into town for breakfast. On the way home we rode through the big nature park on the west side of town, stopping at the edge of a little meadow in the middle of the park to sit on the ground and watch yellow leaves flying around high above the trees. Yellow leaves, white clouds, blue sky, tall trees swaying in the wind – it was mesmerizing, mind-clearing and soul satisfying.
I spent the afternoon out in the windy yard, bundled up in blankets and pillows like an invalid on the deck of a luxury liner, sipping water out of my favorite blue bowl and reading my book. There were millions of birds out there today, for some reason – flocks of little black ones and little brown ones descending on the apple trees, twittering there for a few minutes, and then departing en masse. Also hummingbirds – six of them at once, chasing each other around the salvias and stopping every once in awhile to sit on stems and branches and chirp at me with indignant expressions on their little hummingbird faces. They've been really aggressive for the last few weeks, swooping in so fast and so close to my face that I've actually thrown my hand up to protect my eyes, more than once.
I found my long-lost box of PMC stuff the other night and am in the process of rehydrating a couple of big chunks of it. There were a few little finished pieces in there, too, that I'm going to attempt to fire tonight with a propane torch. I've never done it that way before, but I don't have access to a kiln right now and I figure even if I end up ruining a piece or two it'll be worth it to learn how to do it this way. I used to really enjoy making little things out of this stuff and have several pages of good designs I never produced.
When I was in the hardware store buying the torch, I walked back into the lumber section to fondle the crown moldings (I'm kind of a freak for building supplies) and got swept away by the smell of some long cedar boards they were putting out. I stood in the aisle for several minutes, breathing in that smell. It reminds me of my mother.
Later I had unagi and seaweed salad at the sushi restaurant where I spent my extremely short-lived career (two days) as a waitress in about 1997. On the way home I bought vanilla ice cream, plus some rose water and a few spoonfuls of powdered cardamom to put in the rice pudding I'm making tomorrow. I love, love cardamom. It's in a little bag in the kitchen and I can smell it all through the house.
1 Comments:
"I spent the afternoon out in the windy yard, bundled up in blankets and pillows like an invalid on the deck of a luxury liner, sipping water out of my favorite blue bowl and reading my book."
Good practice in case you ever get TB. (See The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann. The characters spend a lot of time in just such a mode.)
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