The Huntington

Last weekend Sean and I flew to California to visit my Aunt Carmen and her family. The highlight of the trip was our tour of the Huntington Botanical Gardens and museum. Our second day in L.A., we borrowed my aunt's car and drove out to Pasadena. I had been there once when I was about 14 and remembered very little; my overall impression was of the cool, drizzly spring day and the expansive, manicured grounds. We had only spent a couple of hours, but the experience remained with me. So much so that when we decided to do this trip, my first thought was that we had to see the gardens. Sean, the eternal plant fanatic, was immediately sold on the idea.

The cool thing about the Huntington is that because of its location in temperate southern California they can grow just about everything, from cactus to tropical plants. Among other things, there is a Japanese garden, a huge rose garden, an herb garden, and a rain forest greenhouse. They also have eleven gorgeous acres of cactus and succulents that made Sean's face light up like a kid in a candy shop. (And if you know Sean at all, you know the truth in that comparison.)

A (bell?) pepper from the herb garden

There were thousands of varieties of roses, in every color imaginable. It kind of renewed my love of a flower that is usually dismissed as cliche.

Of all the new plants I learned that day, this was my favorite: The dragon tree. It's incredible. It's a little hard to tell in the picture, but it's huge, and the canopy of the tree is composed of hundreds of agave-like clumps at the end of rounded arms. The most notable aspect of the tree is the sap, which bleeds red from the tree. That's right. Red.

In the rose garden

Breakfast for dinner

Note the only slightly misshapen heart pancake I made for Sean. If I had thought of it earlier I would have made them all into shapes, but it didn't occur to me until the very last one went on the griddle. Darn. Anyway, I made buttermilk pancakes for the first time and was thrilled with the restaurant quality results. So that's how they make those pancakes so light and springy! Now, the question of what to do with the rest of the buttermilk. As it turns out, they only sell buttermilk in quart-sized bottles. I already made a cake and pancakes and I still have half the bottle left. What am I supposed to do with all of it? When I was little I remember my mom used to drink the buttermilk that we would buy for special recipes. She claimed it was a Southern thing, a remnant from her grandparents' Kentucky origins.

I know this breakfast-dinner hybrid doesn't look like much, but this has been one of those weeks where I am proud to have pulled it together to make anything. It has not been overtly stressful... in fact I can't really even pinpoint what is making me tense. Work is busy, but no crises to speak of. Everything is great in the old homestead. Nevertheless, I keep catching myself clenching my jaw -- to the point that it has caused me jaw pain for several days now and, I believe, directly contributed to the migraine I had yesterday. (Emery, is this how it starts?!) No, I'm sure there's no TMJ here, just a deep need for a little vacation. Thank god it's almost Thanksgiving. Yay for federal holidays!

I have another picture that I wanted to post. It has nothing to do with food or aching joints, but I thought it was too cute to keep to myself:

Pobrecita Petrie. Is it wrong that this picture makes me smile?

Autumn Sunday

"The Survivor"

Yesterday it was cold when we woke up. After a very long summer, it seems like fall has finally arrived. Sunday was a day made for the season and we decided it was time to bake the first of the two big squash that our garden produced. The Magdalena Big Cheese squash that we planted in August had grown like wild, taking over our back yard. The vines grew from one end of the yard to the other and even climbed into the trees, easily reaching 25 feet in the air. We have had a continuous production of male flowers from the plant but were beginning to despair of ever getting fruit. Finally, one appeared near the end of the longest vine, nestled beneath a giant leaf nearly a foot in diameter. Then another one fell from the sky...literally. Apparently it had developed on a vine that had grown up a high branch branch and on that particular morning the weight became too great for the vine's little tentacles to support. When we stepped out the back door, we found it sitting peacefully and unbroken on the ground, some ten feet from its nest in the tree. It was already the size of a large grapefruit and we were incredulous that it hadn't been damaged in the fall. Indeed, no harm was done and we harvested it last week as big and ripe as its sister across the yard.

The squash was beautiful and -- I don't want to brag, but -- it was essentially perfect. The skin was smooth and uniform and the flesh was sweet and firm. Sean helped cut it into slices and we decided to bake it all with a bit of butter and nutmeg. I also roasted the seeds, which turned out really well. (Even though I tried my best to burn them in my ridiculous oven :) We ate some of the squash with our lunch of lentil soup, and took a pan of it over to Annetta's later. Even so, there was a ton left over so I'm hoping to convert the remainder into squash bread tonight.

Round 1 - "Raw"

Round 2 - Squash Bread a la The Joy of Cooking
(Round 3 was the curry I had to make a couple nights later to use up the rest)

~~~

Sunday was also the celebration of Tucson's traditional All Souls Procession. It was my first year attending, even though I've lived in Tucson for almost seven years. I'm so glad I finally went, because it was awesome...quite a surreal experience. As a friend pointed out, it is much like stepping into a Tim Burton film. (The comparison was confirmed a few minutes later when some people passed by carrying a huge representation of the little dog from Nightmare before Christmas, complete with the glowing red nose.) There were giant skeletons walking among the crowd, wild costumes ranging from grotesque to gaudy, and elaborate portable shrines for loved ones lost.

A group of met up before the procession to paint our faces and share some food. I think it may have been the first time I have ever worn face paint. Strangely, I kind of enjoyed it.

It grew colder as the procession moved toward downtown. The clouds were building and the flashes of lighting intermingled with the flashes from the many cameras in the crowd. The atmosphere was charged and finally broke right before we entered the Sixth Avenue underpass. As the rain began to fall, you could hear exclamations of joy and praise for this beautiful and unexpected occurrence.

Politics (not) as usual

A mural from the Santa Fe Art District

This has been a wild week. Tuesday marked the end of a seemingly endless 22 months of campaigning for the presidency in the form of media manipulation and a lot of tired rhetoric (certainly more heavily on the Republican side, but I am in no way absolving the democrats of that crime). Much to my surprise, it was a happy ending. As a twenty-something whose only political experience has been bitter and characterized by the feeling of near total disenfranchisement, I was fairly resigned to my cynical perspective. After the re-election of Bush in '04, I was convinced that the electoral process was rigged, that the votes weren't counted and that nothing could reverse the course we were on. I had also lost faith in my fellow citizens, sure that the majority was either satisfied with the current political BS or feeling helpless like myself. I also suspected that racism was too deeply entrenched -- and at the same time hidden -- in America to be overcome. I did not believe 'they' would let Obama win. The presidency had been stolen before, so why not this time?

Also, in all honesty, VP Palin scared the hell out of me. Before her appearance, I felt almost indifferent about the election... I mean, McCain was bad, but he was no extremist. It's funny. They say that she energized the GOP, but I think it is fair to say that she also energized the opposition. She got people talking and offered an extreme viewpoint that people could rally fiercely against. I suppose we should be glad for that.

I almost didn't go to the election party we were invited to on Tuesday. I assumed that something would go horribly wrong and we would have to wait days, if not weeks, before the final results were revealed. Again, my only experience with elections (2002 and 2004) had conditioned me to expect problems and delays. I couldn't believe it when they announced that Obama had surpassed the 270 electoral votes needed to win. Even while jumping up and down with the rest of the guests, there remained a seed of doubt. I was still waiting for them to take it back, to say that they had jumped the gun calling Pennsylvania or Indiana. Which state would host the debacle this time?

It didn't become real for me until McCain gave his concession speech in front of that sad little crowd in Phoenix. I got teary and my heart hurt a bit. Hmmm, is that what hope feels like? Who knows, maybe I was just caught up in the moment, but listening to Obama inspired a feeling in me that was unfamiliar in the context of political speeches: trust. I actually believed him. Silly perhaps, but it felt awfully good. For the time being my faith is renewed and I am happy to put aside my cynicism for a while and embrace HOPE.

p.s. Before you think that I've become a total believer, I must say that I was supremely disappointed with the passage of Prop 102 here and Prop 8 in California. A majority of people in these states voted to pass an amendment to their state constitutions defining marriage specifically as the union of a man and a woman... I just don't understand. What is the deal with fundamentalist Christians' fear of homosexuality? What do they care?! This level of state-condoned inequality is mind-blowing in a time when it is generally taken for granted that all people in this country are "equal" in the eyes of the law. What a joke.

Bagpipes and Bacon

I am home alone this morning. Sean and I woke up relatively early (for a Saturday) and I made a big breakfast while he watered the garden. I made waffles from a recipe in the Joy of Cooking and heated maple syrup with frozen mixed berries for topping. We also had bacon -- yes, real bacon in all its piggy glory -- and scrambled eggs with fresh basil. It was fairly decadent I would say. Unfortunately, our lovely morning had to end, as Sean was already running late for the Celtic Festival that the pipe band is playing in today. It will be one of his last gigs with the band before he "retires" from it in a couple of months. I know he really enjoys some aspects of it, but after eight years of dressing up in a kilt to play the snare next to a dozen amateur bagpipes, it seems that he's ready to let it go. I'll probably head over later to check out the bands and work on my winter tan : )

On an unrelated note...I have good news. I finally got my visa approved for New Zealand! Sean had gotten approved a couple of weeks earlier, so as soon as we heard, we went ahead and got our membership to WWOOF NZ. The book is supposed to arrive in the mail in a few weeks so we can start picking out places we want to contact before leaving. They have an online listing as well, which I've only explored a little. The places look incredible and I am thrilled to be going in the spring with my wonderful partner. I get all sappy just thinking about it. The next major step, of course, will be purchasing the plane tickets. That will be quite the expense, but there's no getting around it!

Andrea's 50th

Last Sunday was Sean's mom's 50th birthday. The kids decided to throw her a surprise party, the planning for which began sometime in the summer. As the plan evolved, we debated a lot: lunch vs dinner, catered vs home-cooked, surprise vs not. After a lot of back-and-forth, we decided to cook the food ourselves for an intimate brunch at the home of a good family friend, Tom. Sean, Cait and I took the lead and planned out an elaborate menu for the 15 guests invited to our Sunday morning get together.

We spent all day the Friday before shopping for the party. The grocery list was two pages long, and ended up requiring us to purchase just about every form of dairy known to man: cream cheese, goat cheese, feta, whipping cream, sour cream, milk, butter, swiss, cheddar, colby jack, mozzarella...you get the idea. We went to three different grocery stores, in addition to braving the elite aisles of AJ's to pick out a lovely tiramisu cake. Then we spent all day on Saturday cooking in Cait's miniature kitchen. It was great fun.

On Sunday morning we had to get up and transport it all to Tom's house.

Our menu was the following:

Quiche - 4 kinds: broccoli & cheddar, quiche lorraine, squash & mushroom, and spinach & mushroom. For me the highlight of these quiches was the discovery of freshly grated nutmeg, mmmm...
Bagels & cream cheese - we bought a dozen different kinds from the Bagelry on Campbell and then dressed up plain cream cheese to create a strawberry flavor with fresh berries and green onion and cucumber
Lox - we made a lox tray with smoked salmon, plain cream cheese, cucumber, tomatoes, lemons and capers
Feta with kalamata olives
Goat cheese with sundried tomatoes and fresh basil
Warm pita
Homemade hummus and roasted red and orange bell pepper
Baby croissants with a meat and cheese tray
Fresh veggie tray
Blueberry muffins
Fresh fruit kabobs with honey-ginger glaze
Gingerbread with powdered sugar
Pots d' creme - an amazing chocolate mousse-like concoction with dark chocolate, whipping cream, and egg yolk. Rich.
Tiramisu - store-bought, but still fantastic
Summer Sangria
Bloody Marys
Orange Juice

One of the main highlights of the party was the amazing gift that Sean made for his mother. Using Blurb books (thanks to Emery's recommendation!) he created a lovely book celebrating her life. It was a total surprise to Andrea. I was taking pictures and I think the following series of shots was awesome, as she opened the present and then looked through the book.



First: curious surprise


Next: teary shock


Finally: happy reminiscing

All in all I think it was a fabulous success. All family and friends in attendance, and -- if I may say ever so modestly -- some damn good food : )

What's in a name?

When I was over at the Eaves' house last night for dinner, Emery introduced me to the wide world of blogging. I enjoyed looking at her blog, with such great pictures and getting inspired by her gorgeous meals. I think I got the bug.

Sean's helping a friend with his homework tonight, so -- relegated to the bedroom with my laptop (voluntarily) -- I decided for some reason, to look up my name on google. It's not the first time I've done that, but it is the first time I did "louisa" alone. Interesting results. I found out a few things.

1. There are at least two towns in the U.S. called Louisa. One is in Virginia, the other is in Kentucky.


2. There is a Louisa County in Iowa...where newspapers report two persons found dead in a murder-suicide on Sunday.

3. There are luxury apartments in Portland called "The Louisa," advertised as being "smart, sophisticated, and beautiful." Hmm.

3. "Sister Louisa" is the alter ego of one Grant Henry, a gay artist from Atlanta who uses the persona of a fallen nun to sell irreverent (un)religious anti-iconography. www.sisterlouisa.com

4. Louisa Burton is the author of the erotic fiction series, the Hidden Grotto, primarily featuring sexual demons and the undead, and most recently awarded the Romantic Times award for best erotic fiction of the year. woo hoo!

5. There was a ship named Louisa that sailed from Belfast to New York on June 14, 1825. It carried 151 passengers, two of whom died on the voyage. Both were young girls, ages 13 and 16.
5a. There was another ship much earlier to carry that name, but unlike the former it did not reach its destination. The "Princess Louisa" was a British East India Company merchant ship that was lost on April 18, 1743 after striking a reef off the coast of an island in the Cape Verde chain. It carried 20 chests of Spanish coins that were only just recovered a decade ago.

6. Louisa John-Krol is an Australian performer of questionable fame, specializing in the "romantic pop-ethereal faerie genre" and whose solo albums all start with the letter A. My favorite? "Apple Pentacle." A sure classic.

7. And finally...the name Louisa means "maiden warrior," or something to that effect. It is supposedly German in origin and is definitely tied to the idea of fighting and honor.