Nobody's Mad

It’s been such a whirlwind since we arrived in Seattle that blogging has taken a backseat, but let me try to bring you up to date.  You already know about our garden from other postings, so you know that whenever we have a chance we are either haunting the garden stores (of which the area has an amazing number and variety) or tending our veggies in the backyard.  In addition to the gardening we’ve done a bit of sailing, Mike has kept his professional work going, I have gotten the household up and running, and we’ve renewed ties with some darling people.

Our cousins from Canada have just departed after a lovely six-day visit, which unfortunately coincided with a heat wave that made their upstairs bedroom here a bit of an oven on some nights.  They were darling guests and gamely carried on in spite of the unseasonable heat.  We visited the Pike Place Market of course, attended the Fourth of July fireworks in Bellevue, had a joyous and interesting sail around Bainbridge Island on Bella Luna, shopped the bookstores, and enjoyed casual dinners out and at home.  They and we were amazed by the amount of traffic on the streets here at certain hours, as well as by the crowds lined up at restaurants.  We’d have loved to go to Ray’s Boathouse at Shilshole but abandoned that idea when we cased the place twice and discovered the parking lot jammed both times.

In a way that I can’t explain,  Seattle seems quiet and sterile to me when we first arrive, in contrast to the bustle of small-town life in Mariposa.  I miss our friends there, and the cluttered old house on Bullion Street, and the weekly routine.  But then the magic of being here kicks in– the water, the mountains, the garden, boats, bookshops, and family ties.  Besides the visit from the beloved Canadian cousins, we’ve been in touch by phone or in person with other dears as well.  We spoke by phone to Mike’s parents in England and also made contact with a brother and sister-in-law, nieces, a nephew, a Seattle cousin, and even a former sister-in-law.  To top it off, one evening we had a phone call from an in-law of Mike’s, a delightful woman who lives in Selma, California.  And I’ve resumed my cherished weekly get-togethers at Borracchini’s Bakery (more about that another time).

After the Canadian cousins left, the weather cooled so much that we had to close all the windows to try to retain some heat.  It was too cold to eat outside and almost too cold to work in the garden.  I noticed the front path was damp from a few spots of rain.  Strong winds came in and whipped the trees.

Welcome as it was, this natural air-conditioning would have been a godsend had it arrived a few days earlier, to cool our cousins at night as they valiantly made do upstairs with a fan and a slight cross-breeze.

We only hope the adventures of their whirlwind visit made up for the heat and left them with pleasant memories of magical Seattle.

The southside flower and herb garden was subjected to soil testing this afternoon.  Results are shown in the chart below. –MJH.

I watered the shrubs in front of the house and removed some mint plants from the area in front of the fence, for eventual planting in the southside garden. –MJH

We’ve been in Seattle a little over a week, getting settled and getting the new garden in.  Let me tell you a little about our road-trip getting here.

After one false attempt– I had forgotten something– we started down the road at 1:18 p.m. on June 15.  An hour later we were on the southern edge of Turlock, approaching the rest stop.  At 6:52 p.m., Mike glimpsed Mt. Shasta.  After seven hours on the road, at 8:18 p.m., we were on the southern edge of Ashland, Oregon.  By about 5:18 a.m., June 16  (and I omit the details of hours and hours of road-pounding) we had arrived at our home in Seattle.  Total hours, sixteen; driving hours, fourteen and one-half.  Total miles: 899.1.

Mike did by far the majority of the driving, though I took the wheel for about 100 miles in the northern great California Valley.  Our stops were quick and to-the-point: for gas, rest, and quick meals.  These latter were from the picnic basket and cooler in the trunk, which we had filled with home-made sandwiches at Mariposa.

The house had been serenely waiting for us.  Mike restored the water service and hot water supply, and we tumbled into bed in the room we call the “cave,” our basement bedroom.

Another oasis for the “Nomads.”

A table in "Provençe"

We said farewell to friends with a picnic at Blackberry Cottage on Sunday afternoon.  We’ll miss these dear people during our five-month stay in Seattle.  Since we had been extremely busy preparing for the trip, we knew our menu for the picnic would have to be simple.  Mike thought a French country theme might suit a menu of tomato soup, bread, cheese, and fruit.

Since last year’s changes at the cottage, I have no idea where the picnic supplies, such as table cloths, have been stored, and there is little temptation to search for them in the over-stuffed garage.  At home, though, I found a striped blue and white sheet and laundered it to make a cover for the venerable picnic table.  Over that I placed blue-and-white tea towels as “place mats.”  The picnic china was culled from the cupboards at Bullion Street: light blue Italian soup bowls with a sort of peasant look to them, and some substantial old plates acquired in thrift shops.  Grape leaves from the trellis and plates of fruit were the table decorations. If you squinted as you looked at the table, you might see a French Impressionist still life there.

While I set the table Mike was at Bullion Street warming up the soup (see “Recipes” category).  He carried it over in a “straw box,”  actually a wicker basket insulated with an old blanket.  The swaddled soup stayed nicely warm.  One of our friends surprised us with a fantastic coconut dessert, an ice “cream” made of coconut milk, an ambrosia of purest essence of coconut.

We stayed at table for more than two hours.  Our friends enjoyed the soup and we raved over the coconut dessert.  I don’t know if anybody saw Paul Cezanne in the table decorations, but I know that Mike and I savored this get-together with dear friends in “Provençe.”

We took a Thermos and two large china mugs when we went star-gazing last night near the intersection of Tiptop Road and Highway 49.  Oak trees were silhouetted like black lace on the horizon.  The sun-glow receded, and the inky sky revealed a million stars.  The Big Dipper.  Arcturus.  The Scorpion.

Star-gazing and a Thermos are a tradition with us.  Sometimes it’s hot soup.  This time it was chocolate, and not the “instant” kind.  It’s easy and economical to make hot chocolate from powdered cocoa, and the result is delicious and satisfying– without all the mystifying additives you find in the “instant” packets.

Recipes abound on the Internet and in cookbooks.  I like  the one in an old edition of the “Joy of Cooking,” and I pep it up by making it less dilute.  Here’s how I make enough for two large mugs:

• 3/4 cup boiling water
• 1/4 cup cocoa
• 1/4 cup sugar
• a pinch of salt
• 2 1/4 cups scalded milk

In the top of a metal double-boiler I stir the dry ingredients together and add the hot water.  I leave the pan over low direct heat for a minute as I continue to stir the mixture.  Then I place it over the bottom half of the double-boiler, which contains the requisite amount of boiling water.  Now I whisk in the hot milk.  If there is time, I allow the mixture to continue to cook at moderate heat, covered, over the boiling water for 10 minutes.  Then I give it a whisk and pour it into the Thermos.

Add stars and you have the recipe for a delicious evening.

An unceremonious name indeed for a succulent, economical dish.  This one has an afterlife.  Use the leftover meat in a beef pie, or slice it for sandwiches.

• 2 to 5-pound boneless cross rib, chuck, or shoulder-clod roast
• 1 10-ounce can beef consommé, undiluted*
• 2 t. lemon juice
• 2 t. Worcestershire sauce
• 2 to 4 bay leaves
• 1 t. salt
• 1/8 t. ground cloves
• 2 garlic cloves, whole (optional)
• two medium, quartered onions (optional)
• whole carrots

Brown the meat on all sides, using a liberal amount of cooking oil.  After the meat is brown, pour off the excess oil and add the consommé, lemon juice, spices, and, if you wish, the garlic.  Cook, covered, for two hours in a 325-degree oven.  Now add the onions, if you are going to, and the carrots.  (The vegetables may be placed on top of the meat or directly in the broth– they do not have to be covered by the liquid.)  Continue to cook, covered, for an additional hour.

Remove the dish from the oven, pour off the broth, and leave the meat and vegetables covered while you make a luscious gravy from the broth.

*or two cubes of beef bouillon + 1 1/4 cups water

Two blocks beyond our house lies a road with the apt name “Old Highway,” a remnant of  an earlier route between Mariposa and Yosemite.  Mike and I took an afternoon walk of two and one-half miles on Monday, part of it along Old Highway, past the Sheriff’s Office and up a hill of moderate height.  We saw a fine gopher snake moving in a seamless flow, on the road and then up a steep bank.  We heard wild turkeys calling, from the brush to the west.  And we saw innumerable lush and healthy stands of poison oak, the plant that is the bane of foresters and miners everywhere.  The walk seemed like the perfect distance.  The heat and the grade made it sufficiently challenging, for me at any rate.  And the natural wonders–  the way the snake seemed to pour itself across the road and up the bank– and the bird sounds, and even the poison oak, gave us much to reflect upon as we made our way.

This isn’t a recipe per se— it’s a series of pronouncements that will produce al dente broccoli.  Decide how much broccoli you wish to prepare, wash it, and cut it into florets.  Select a saucepan large enough to hold the broccoli comfortably.  Fill the pan with enough water to cover the broccoli when the time comes.  Salt the water and bring it to a boil.  Toss the broccoli into the boiling water, and cook it on moderate-to-high heat for two minutes.  That’s it!  Remove the pan from the heat, and serve the broccoli immediately.