Author Archives: Jennie

I Love David Lebovitz (as a cyberfan, of course)

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I started linking up some favorite posts from David Lebovitz on my Facebook page, but then realized he needed to be shared with a broader audience. I love everything about David’s blog, Living the Sweet Life in Paris — his erudite yet informal style and most of all, his luscious photographs. Here’s a recap of some recent posts to whet your appetite (pun intended)!

To start with, let’s talk about Food Blogger Camp. Can you imagine going to Mexico with some famous food bloggers and photographers to learn how to write about and take photos of food? I’m ready to sign up right now!

And then there’s David’s Paris and Lausanne Chocolate and Gastronomy Tour in May. It’s a good thing it’s sold out, because it’s mighty tempting to take some personal days to participate in this incredible adventure. Hopefully someday I’ll be able to share this experience with my French-at-heart sister-in-law and other friends.

 

Since I recently went to Paris and experienced the lack-o-sandwich and street food, I thought David’s recent post on the growth of  Subway sandwich shops and other take-out sandwich places was very interesting. We got take-out croissant sandwiches from a little shop in the Jardin des Tuileries and enjoyed people watching.

Of course, if you love chocolate and can’t get to Paris, there’s always Hershey, Pennsylvania. You can sample the gastronomic delights of numerous restaurants and cap off your meal with something sinfully chocolicious. Maybe I’ll see you there.


Dear Fellow Bloggers: Don’t Hate Me Because You’re Not Perfect

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I really want to read some new blogs. If you are a baby boomer who writes with humor about loving your adult children and senior moments and possible retirement and taking care of elderly parents, I want to follow you and share your posts here on my blog and on Facebook. Even more than those things, though, I REALLY want you to edit your blog posts before you publish them.

I know it’s a “thing” with me. I spend too many of my work days cringing at eighth grade writing and I know this makes me crazy when I find editing mistakes in adults’ writing. I also know, however, that you had an English teacher (just like me) who pleaded with you to use the correct spelling of to, too, and two, and begged you to use it is instead of it’s so that you didn’t confuse the contraction it’s with the possessive pronoun its. There’s a reason that the old biddy thought the correct usage of the English language was important. She was afraid that someday you might actually have to write something in your professional life, and lo and behold, she was right! Unfortunately, it seems that you were “absent” on the day(s) your teachers taught you about commonly confused words and agreement.

It’s not that I’m perfect; my darling husband has been known to correct me on my usage of like I said rather than as I said. I even sometimes use my object pronouns incorrectly and say with him and I. I’m really struggling with the “new rules” that allow us to use the plural pronoun they with a singular antecedent instead the accurate but sometimes unwieldy he or she.

Example: If anybody wants to succeed as a writer, they have to know the rules of the game. (This should be he or she rather than they, because anybody is singular.)

I really don’t want to be the grammar police in my online life, and since I’m not at school, I have a choice. I choose not to read blogs with consistent mistakes. I can handle a couple, but more mistakes than that and I’ve moved on to the next cute blog title.

Interestingly, I found a wonderful “grammar police” graphic that I was going to use here, but it was attached to a blog by a writer who said that she was too busy to edit her posts. Her commenters backed her up and basically told the grammar police types (that would be me) to get a life. I am unclear how this post will go over, but I’m pretty sure that my niece, who writes grammar lessons at Vanderbilt Wife, will get a chuckle from it.

Eye wood give my black patten shoos if sumhow yoo all cood go bak and relern thoze lessuns. For now, tho, I will haf too keep looking for a blog that duz not make me wunt to gouj my eyz out.

Header Image: Keattikorn / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Photo Op

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It’s time to change my header photo to something more spring-ey. Although there’s still some snow on the ground here in Chicagoland, the microclimate on the south side of my house has little green things erupting everywhere.

Does anyone have a wonderful photo of the burgeoning spring you would like to showcase on my blog?

Book Review: In the Company of Others

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I was pretty excited to find a new Father Tim novel in the audiobook section of my library. I get it; reading Jan Karon is like wearing Christmas sweaters. I’m sure Stacy and Clinton would rip Karon’s books out of my bookshelf, but I am Jennie and I admit to reading all of the Father Tim books more than once. I don’t think I require a 12-step intervention program for my sappiness.

The novel held promise; Father Tim and Cynthia go on a birthday present trip to Ireland, the home of both of their ancestors. He wants to take his beloved wife back to a place he fell in love with when he was single. When Cynthia injures her ankle and is forced to stay at the fishing lodge for the entire trip rather than do the sightseeing they had planned, Father Tim gets embroiled in a local mystery and the personal lives of the innkeepers. This is not surprising since apparently, once a minister, always a minister, and he can’t say no to helping bring people to God.

Unlike some of the Amazon reviewers, I loved the construct of Cynthia and Father Tim reading an old journal written in the early 1800s about the neighborhood. I thought Karon did a nice job weaving the ensemble’s stories together and the journal gave the reader insight into the troubled history of Ireland without hitting us over the head about it. Generally, I think that Jan Karon treats her readers with respect; she give us just enough factoids so that we understand the sociological point she is trying to make while still believing that we can engage our prior knowledge to figure stuff out.

Reviewers also commented having difficulties with the Irish dialogue.  I enjoyed the audiobook version of this novel and since I never saw how Karon wrote it out on paper, I can’t really comment on its readability. I do know that hearing the Irish bits helped me to understand them and I probably would have skipped over them otherwise. It was kind of charming to “hear” Father Tim try to speak Irish.

In the Company of Others: A Father Tim Novel is NOT a Mitford book and don’t expect it to be. If, however, you are interested in Irish culture, Father Tim and Cynthia are the same gentle people in a new environment and this book is worth a read.

Things I Love: The Small Blessings in Life

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This Valentine’s Day, I’m finding myself thinking of the things I love that aren’t quite so obvious as my beloved husband and my own dear adult kids.

I love these kids. No, they aren’t my grandchildren; they’re the children of my dear friends. Even on a very bad day, they can beguile me out of my crabbiness.

And then there’s other spiffiness, like the new hand dryers we got at school in the student bathrooms. Last fall, the bathrooms were all remodeled and made accessible, but “somebody” bought stupid cheap hand dryers that didn’t do their job. As we have been having very cold, snowy weather this winter, it was discouraging to leave the bathroom with wet hands. On Monday when we returned to work, it was a thrill — albeit cheap — to watch my skin crawl as these powerful dryers did their work.

So, on this Valentine’s Day, I admit to being in love with these kids and dry hands. It could be worse…

Book Review: Hotel Pastis

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After his success with travel memoirs A Year in Provence and Toujours Provence, Peter Mayle turned his charmingly wicked pen to fiction. Hotel Pastis: A Novel of Provence tells the story of the burned-out London ad man who uses his prodigious fortune to buy and renovate a venerable building in the Luberon region of France. Along the way he meets the love of his life and gets involved in a ludicrous bank robbery turned kidnapping.

About one-third through Hotel Pastis, I realized that I had read it before. The vision of seven ex-cons training for the bicycle ride of their life was a plot trick that one remembers vividly. Conveniently, I didn’t remember how it turned out, so I read Pastis eagerly all the way to the somewhat predictable ending.

The fact that I read this book before didn’t dilute my enthusiasm for Peter Mayle in general. I love his recipe for a fun read: one part luscious Provence, one part longing for the “gettingawayfromitall” simple life, and many parts humor. If you haven’t read Hotel Pastis, it’s available for you to borrow from my bookshelf.

P.S. If you want to do something a little special for me for Valentine’s Day — and you know who you are — you could book me into this lovely version of Hotel Pastis in St. Tropez.

Olive Oil: Nectar of the Gods

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I have recently rediscovered the joy of a pot of savory risotto on a cool winter evening. Even better, I have also discovered that flavored olive oils lift simple risotto to a higher level. We first bought Blood Orange Olive Oil and Tangerine Balsamic Vinegar in Goshen, Indiana (I blogged about using the oil and vinegar for a simple salad here),  but recently a teacher friend of mine from graduate school gave it all up and opened a store specializing in olive oils and flavored vinegars.

Oh, Olive! is in a perfect location in Libertyville, a cute Chicago suburb with a thriving downtown. It was hard to choose which oils and vinegars I was going to buy, but I finally settled for Wild Mushroom and Sage olive oil, and several flavored balsamic vinegars. I had a bunch of pretty baby bella mushrooms and some leftover shredded Amish organic chicken in the freezer. With some sage from my spice rack, I knew I had the makings of a wonderful dinner.

Risotto is a good dish to make when you are having a dinner party, because if your house is like mine, everyone hangs out in the kitchen anyway. You can enlist help to prepare the ingredients together and then stir while you and your guests enjoy a glass of wine or two. The key to success with risotto is to use a thick-bottomed pot such as a Le Creuset Dutch Oven, which will help to control the heat. I keep asking myself how I lived without this pot, but that’s probably a post for another day.

Chicken and Mushroom Risotto

3 tbsp flavored olive oil

1 medium onion, chopped

2 cups chicken, precooked and chopped or shredded into bite-sized pieces

1 package of sliced mushrooms – use your favorite variety or a mix

1 cup Arborio rice (I got mine at Trader Joe’s)

3 cups chicken broth; you can substitute white wine for one cup of broth

Savory herbs to match your olive oil variety – about 3 tbsp dried

1 cup grated parmesan cheese

In a thick-bottomed pot, saute the onions, mushrooms, and chicken in olive oil. Add the herbs and warm the entire mixture. When thoroughly cooked, remove from pan and save for later.

Add the rice to the pan and blend it with the leftover oil and chicken leavings in the pan; you can add a little more oil if you need it. The rice should be coated and warmed through; then, add 1 cup of the broth and let it absorb into the rice, stirring frequently. On my stove, a setting of 6 out of 10 is a good simmering temperature. Keep adding liquid one cup at a time until the rice is creamy but still has texture and all the liquid has been absorbed.

Put the chicken mixture back into the pan with the rice, warm it all up, and let the chicken and mushroom flavors absorb into the rice. Add the parmesan cheese and serve immediately.

This recipe serves two adults nicely for a hearty meal with about a 2 cup serving. If you made it without the chicken, it would make four side dish servings to go with a meat or fish main dish. You can double or triple the recipe, depending on the size of your Dutch oven and the crowd you are serving. Bon appetit!

The Pink Aisle

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As the parents of a confirmed girlie-girl who we lovingly refer to as Engineering Barbie, we spent a lot of time in the “Pink Aisle” of Toys ‘R” Us. I know you are envisioning this in your head right now, so I probably don’t need to explain it to you.

Since it’s my blog, I’m feeling that I can get up on my soapbox and complain about the commercial excess with which we are surrounded. In the last six months I have surreptitiously (and horrified-ly) taken a photo of Halloween stuff in July, Christmas stuff in September, and now a huge section of Target entirely devoted to Valentine’s Day. At least it’s almost February so it’s kind of timely. I haven’t been in Target since before Christmas, so I probably would have been equally horrified to find Valentine’s Day candy and decorations replacing the Christmas items in December.

What kind of people have we Americans become? Do we really consume all of this candy and junk? Apparently we do if Target is willing to devote this much space to it.

Gives a new meaning to OMG.

The Necklace

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When you first read the title of this post, I’ll bet you were thinking I was going to talk about the classic short story, The Necklace by Guy de Maupassant. So I will.

In Mauppasant’s tale, middle class but beautiful Mathilde Loisel has the opportunity to go to a fancy ball. She and her husband spend too much money on a dress for the affair, and borrow a diamond necklace from a friend. When Mathilde loses the necklace, she buys a replacement and returns the diamond necklace to her friend without telling her the truth. Then, she and her husband spend ten years dedicated to paying off their debt, losing their home, their servants, and much of their original lifestyle in the process. When she encounters the friend (after ten years of abject poverty), she finally discloses the truth about the necklace. Her friend, aghast, tells her that the original necklace was a fake. Needless to say, I have often used this story in my classroom to demonstrate the use of irony in literature.

My tale for today, however, involves a different kind of necklace.

This necklace was in the bag of ethnic and costume jewelry that came from my mother-in-law’s estate. I thought it was very interesting and possibly cool to wear; my sister-in-law thought it was hideous. I love the mixed media of the beads, wood, and abalone, and it kind of clinks like a wind chime when it moves, but it requires a significant “shelf” upon which to rest. I wore it once with a black shell and liked the effect, but then put it away. The other day I was going to wear a plain black turtleneck to school and thought that this was the perfect opportunity to check out my perceptions of its cool factor.

I’m glad to report that my little fashionista students, who rarely keep their negative or positive opinions to themselves, loved the necklace and I got comments all day about it. It’s not something that I can wear every day, or even every week, but it’s still fun.

Did my self-esteem need the stamp of approval from eighth graders? Not really, but when a teacher places a large piece of jewelry that jingles on her chest, it had better be good, because it’s going to attract a lot of attention. My mother-in-law taught kindergarteners, who probably looked at jewelry placement somewhat differently than my 14-year-olds.

Now I’m looking for some adult feedback. I need to convert this Joann piece into a wearable work of art. I can see it worn with something peasanty and creative when I want to tell that story. Unfortunately it hangs down to that lovely part of my torso just above my waist — not the part of my body to which I want large orange beads to draw attention! I do think it has possibilities, though, and there’s always that connection with my beloved Joann that happens whenever I wear her jewelry.

Any ideas that will dilute the orange? I’d welcome some crafty ideas . . .

Guest Post: The Birthday Tiara

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While enjoying our Christmas visit to Seattle, we also celebrated my sister-in-law’s birthday on December 26. I have been urging her to write a guest post about being a Jane Austen lover, but her day wearing a rhinestone tiara is what stoked her creative furnace (I added the photos). Please welcome Suzanne to our blogging party and leave her a comment!.

THE BIRTHDAY TIARA

In early December, I attended a “December birthdays” party with a friend who presented each of us with a glitter-encrusted “Birthday Princess” tiara.  Being enamored of all things sparkly, I vowed to wear the tiara all day on my actual birthday a few weeks later.  Little did I realize that something undertaken as a lark would turn into quite the social experiment.

The wearing of a birthday tiara definitely loosens the inhibitions of those around you.  People are much more likely to look at you and to engage you in conversation.  Of course, there are the invariable “duh” questions such as “Is it your birthday?” (no, I just like wandering around shops wearing a “birthday princess” tiara) or my personal favorite, “Is that a tiara?” (uh, I don’t know….what do you think it is?).  But I swallowed all those snarky parenthetical remarks because every person who asked me one of those questions was smiling.  One woman at Costco asked if it was my birthday and then reached out to hug me.  That was my first indication of the power of the tiara.

After lunch, the family ventured into Seattle for a shopping excursion at Pike Place Market.  Being December, it was a blustery, rainy day and I immediately discovered a couple of drawbacks to tiara-wearing.  One, your hair gets trapped in the glitter when the wind blows and it’s very difficult to disentangle.  Two, wearing a tiara is quite incompatible with throwing a hood over your head in an attempt to keep your hair dry.  But, by this point, I was unwilling to abandon the experiment.  I had a feeling that there were still more secrets for the tiara to reveal.

Interestingly, Pike Place Market elicited none of the inane questions that I had received at Costco and the mall.  People simply walked up to me and said “Happy Birthday!” and went about their business.  And I discovered another upside to the tiara—people gave me free stuff!  As I wandered among the vendors, I scored a fused glass zipper pull, a chocolate-covered cherry and a crab cocktail!

Weary of shopping and looking for a pick-me-up, we all arranged to congregate at a small wine bar in Post Alley.  Jennie and I had a little trouble finding the wine bar at first, so we stopped at a restaurant in the alley and asked for directions.  When our husbands met up with us a bit later, it turned out that they had stopped at the same restaurant and told the maitre d’ that they were supposed to meet their wives at a wine bar.  The maitre d’s response:  “Was one of them wearing a tiara?”  Obviously another benefit of the tiara—people remember who you are.  Finally ensconced at the correct locale, Champagne seemed the most appropriate choice to match my festive mood, so I informed the waitress that I needed the “Bubbly Flight.”  To which she responded, without missing a beat, “Of course you do.”

By the time we settled in for dinner at Salty’s, the power of the tiara seemed to be waning a bit.  Maybe it didn’t sparkle quite enough in the dim restaurant lights, or maybe the waiters had just seen it all.  Or maybe we were having such a good time with family and friends that the tiara had nothing further to add.  But twelve hours of wearing a birthday tiara had taught me a quite a bit.  First, wearing a headpiece designed for an eight-year-old can give you a bit of a headache.  But more importantly, it gave a lot of other people an excuse to smile and to be a little more warm and friendly than they might otherwise have been, and gave me an excuse to be warm and friendly in return.  And, at the end of the day, it had just been plain fun!

Grab yourself a tiara and give it a try.

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