My tea garden, which I have told you all about before
, is growing (excuse the untended pun)
slowly and quickly all at the same time. Sprouts are those little, unfathomable, perfect creations that baffle my mind every single time a new one emerges. Like babies being born, sprouting seeds carry that cross over between before and after that even grown, exceptionally intellectual, intelligent people have not yet found the exact key to.
Bold is the only way to describe something so determined to push through and face the unknown . . .
First sight of the sun, and direct contact with water must help to confirm the decision is a safe one.
I am thrilled by the finally found chairs for my tea spot . . .
And I am so excited to keep watching as my time and work changes from my handiwork to the spell cast by Earth itself and each plant participating.
My sister in law is from Japan, and her cooking is something we all talk about, and reference, and think about, and look forward to. She has a touch, which she disregards and shrugs off as nothing, that is like glitter in water. She turns “lunch” into a magnificent, million course, expedition from noodle soup to chopped salads that I am afraid I cannot give justice to in words. One thing she has made on occasion, and although I have no idea if this is how she does it
, I replicate at indulgent moments when cheesy and oily and salty are nothing I feel like scoffing at. (Not to say her food is even remotely cheesy, oily and salty, only this snack holds these qualities . . . )
Anyway, late the other evening, the indulgence was simmering, and I could feel cheesy wontons rearing their heads.
I highly recommend not eating too many too late in the evening, or you might wake the next morning, frowning at your stomach and shaking your head at your own lack of will power.
Buy pre-made wonton wraps,
cut triangles of strong cheese
heat a cast iron pan and oil lightly
brown on both side at let cheese melt entirely . . .
I assume these would be good dipped in mustard although I keep forgetting to try it.
Best ~ Marica
I think this is the running theme for me as of late. Old house becoming a new home,
old furniture transforming into fresh living . . . .
All with a bit of work but well worth it in the end . . .
My favorite is when I get help . . .
And on occasion they truly want to, and it makes a difference . . .
It was a simple process, but my arms got tired near the end . . .
But wow, wow, I love the way they came out . . .
All finished . . .
There was even a left over bit of fabric to cover an old chair I’d been lugging around figuring someday I would renewed it . . .
This Afternoon’s Sweet . . .
I didn’t measure, but the contents included:
Unsweetened Shredded Coconut Flakes
Summer Special Evening Mango Tequila Sunset. . .
Simply in a glass:
Several fresh mango slices
1 shot decent tequila
2 heaping teaspoons frozen orange pineapple juice concentrate
1/2 fresh squeezed la la la lime
and a slice of lime . . .
Slid around the edge to pizzaz the effect . . .
To fabulous things ~ Marica
P.S. A sharp knife makes all the difference . . .
Often the most eye catching arrangement of food is when nothing is done, but each item merely
holds its own on a plate amongst other dazzling companions. Colors of food can almost outdo flowers. I’ve noticed that sometimes the simplest compilation of food looks as if its sole purpose
is to be starred at . . .
Summer foods especially shine bright in this department, but lets not forget the eternally beautiful squashes and pumpkins that adorn our tables and pathways come fall. Fruit exuberates its likeness to be combined and enjoyed and the color combinations are hard to conflict.
Dinners have a different meaning in summer . . . light is okay and cold and fresh is fabulous . . .
Combine in a bowl:
1 cup mushrooms, chopped (I used portabella)
1/2 cup onion, chopped
1 cup almond meal
1 cup fresh spinach, chopped
1 lime squeezed
1 tablespoon white balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon stone ground mustard
Heat a pan (preferably cast iron) and poured a thin layer of sesame seeds on the bottom instead of oil. Form patties and cook for several minutes on each side. I did also tested it with oil and it works great, in some ways more typical in its finish, but the sesame seeds won out for me in overall yumminess.
Fruit Salad Trick:
If I haven’t already stated this trick it needs to be said, or if I have I apologize, but feel it is worth repeating. Fresh squeezed lime juice is like an exponential gift to the perfect fruit salad.
To summer eating ~ Marica
Our new property is just under half an acre. Half an acre is, put simply, enough room to breath, and of course grow a few things. To me, yard is of utmost importance. I grew up in the mountains on acreage that ran into the national forest and ended at heaven. Creeks and forest fires were like bread and wine, and somehow, I will never be able to live with too tiny of a box around me.
This new patch of earth that we hold legal title to is barren enough to still let our imaginations feel giddy. As a child, I always wanted a garden, a flower garden growing with the vitality of Alice in Wonderland
and the sacred old-newness that the shoots from The Secret Garden
bring . . . tingling shivers . . . the kind of excitement that fingers can’t rightly touch upon
but our whole beings grasp with such earnestness.
In one section of the yard, the boys and I found the scavenger’s treasure needed to create
such a space. . . These simple cement squares offered a beginning to my Tea Garden.
Tea Garden as in tea roses, as in climbing flowers, as in secret garden.
I plan to create a perfect spot, but perfect takes time . . .
As the flowers are planted and the foliage fills in, the garden will become somewhere that, if written of in a storybook, a child would dream of, and plan to have one of their own someday. . .
Bits of ordinary are so exciting when they are firsts or beginnings . . .
First full dinner . . .
First coffee . . .
First hot breakfast . . .
Settling takes time . . .
I am so impatient and yet, once I have waited, the experience is so much more appreciated.