So I Just Had to Have Quiche

You are guessing this right from the title - it's a thinly veiled excuse for me to post even more pictures and talk even more about France. But it was a once in a lifetime trip - it's really not to be stopped.

So why was I thinking about France today? Mainly because while I waited to get a new set of tires (I'd rather not discuss THAT part), I wandered over to "The French Pastry Cafe" - a place I have seen many times but never had the opportunity to visit. Today was the day.

I enjoyed a quiche plate with salad and an americano: coffee - excellent! quiche - good but maybe too much nutmeg. Very surprising, the nutmeg. I really liked it at first but then half way through was like, nutmeg, really? It was not as good as any of the quiches I had in France - but, I am not in France.

But I was - and as I sat there I got to poking around on David's Google plus account where he loaded the rest of the pictures we had from France (at least, his favorites). So here we go. Yet more pictures of France.

This is the kids showing good will in the Hameau de la reine at Versailles. We visited Versailles on Bastille Day.

I believe this is at the Jardins des Plantes (where we visited the Comparative Anatomy Museum and the Paris Zoo).

The next two pictures are from Chartres. Fabulous day trip from Paris! This was also our family's first experience with foie gras. And creperies.


Notre Dame - obviously. And yes, we did see a whole lot of churches.

In fact, so many - that I have no clue which one this is. From my shirt, I'm thinking this might have been somewhere in the Loire when we were visiting Chenoceau and Chambord - but then again, we could only take so much luggage and true to the European style, I wore the same things over and over again.

Topiary gardens near Sarlat in the Dordogne.

I think this was outside of Chateau Auzers, the wedding site in the Cantal. I recognize the hydrangeas.

Versailles. I feel like I'm looking very American in this picture.

St. Emilion. Breathtaking. I loved loved loved this place. And I have 5 more bottles of Bordeaux to remember it by.

Bordeaux. That's Lucy on the far left. Bordeaux is wonderful. I didn't think I would like going there so much and spending so much time in that area. It's clear that I often have absolutely no idea what I'll like.

Lastly me - not quite smiling so hugely for once. You can probably guess where that was taken.


The kids and I were discussing France again at dinner tonight. Ethan said he loved France for the pastry. That's a good reason to love France, no doubt.

When I think a bit about it, I think I love France for the pace of life. Maybe it was just vacation anywhere pace of life - but no - it wasn't the same, even in Maui. Life was spread out and savored. Every last bit of marrow sucked. And washed down with wine - the way it should be, damn it.

I'm a reminscer - what can I say.

Reminiscing about Chicken Tagine

Chicken Tagine is one of my favorite comfort foods. It is not one of those comfort foods that remind me of "home", as in where I grew up - but rather "home", as in where I spent the vast majority of my adult life up until this point. That would be an Idaho comfort food - not exactly because it's local cuisine, but more because of the memories it evokes.

The most salient memory of chicken tagine was the time I made it for the World Cuisines dinner night put on by the former owner of Sato's in Idaho Falls (a now defunct Japanese restaurant). I happened to be acquainted with the couple that owned Sato's, and it just so happened that my endless jabbering about food (at the gym, no less) got me an invention to represent two types of cuisine at the dinner - Italian (requested), and then I got to pick one other. Tagines are typically North African dishes and come in all types. Lamb, chicken, beef, mutton - whatever you have on hand. I had made it several times before and enjoyed its simple yet potent flavors. This particular tagine is chicken tagine, and involves de-skinning bone-in thighs (or whatever you want to use - I think thighs are best), browning them in butter on both sides, then cooking about 2 onions and one bunch scallions in the drippings. After they are nice and soft and translucent, then you add in the rest of the goodies: chickpeas, ginger, garlic, black pepper, salt, cayenne pepper and cinnamon - then liquid - not fully covering the chicken. I could tell you measurements - but I won't. And you'll see why in a minute.

The dinner was supposed to have somewhere around 300 attendees. This was a number I couldn't really get my head wrapped around. For the Italian food, I made three homemade (of course!) sauces: regular tomato sauce, fresh tomato/vegetable sauce, and then pesto. These were to be served with homemade gnocchi. I perhaps should've thought through the whole - individually forming enough gnocchi for 300 people to taste. There were pounds and pounds of potatoes baked (it was either 40 or 80 - I honestly can't remember) - then flower and dashes of nutmeg mixed in, then basically all afternoon spent rolling and shaping the gnocchi. That was an incredible undertaking, and I'm not sure I could ever do it again. Especially that now that I know how easily gnocchi can go wrong (formless mush? too firm? bad shape? no taste?) - I would probably have way more of a fear of failure than I had at the time.

So - given how into that I was - I happened to forget that I had another dish to make - Chicken Tagine - for 300 people to taste. I had chicken thighs from an entire farm, I believe. Someone skinned them for me (thank god) - then I was given an enormous stove with maybe 8 huge burners and super tall pots, sticks of butter, spices - and very little time. I asked if they had measuring spoons in the restaurant kitchen, and the owner showed me the palm of his hand and said - go for it. I was really greasy by the end of that.

So, here we were with about 3 huge trays of chicken tagine in the back of our green Jeep Grand Cherokee. Jeeps are not known for their smooth rides, and this one was not special in this respect - the liquid spilled out all over the back of the car (it was only later I figured out that throwing cous cous in there toward the end soaks up all the liquid and makes for yummy carboliciousness). Thus, the car smelled like chicken tagine for.... ever. For those of you who know from experience the smell of ... specialness... that comes out of our current family car (the Pilot) - you can probably easily imagine we never were particularly speedy or conscientious about keeping our cars neat and tidy.

So where is this going? The dinner was a success. That's a little bit beside the point, although that is a good memory of chicken tagine. People loved the gnocchi and sauces so much more (tagine was a little scary to local Idaho Falls folks) - after all, it was an easy sell with the pasta being made primarily from potatoes and all, that I didn't necessarily consider the dish a success from that.

However, the spilled sauce in the car was sniffed by the new potential INL hire, Doug, who ended up eventually moving to Idaho with Wendy and enjoying many a chicken tagine dish (among other things!)

Another memory of the chicken tagine was of our exchange student, Anne-Laure (living with us actually at about the time I am referring to) - she loved that I made homecooked meals every night, and since I am a sucker for praise, I loved her for that. She used to eat healthy portions (she is a small person), and then at the end, reach for one last bite and say, "Just for the taste!" She is so cute when she says that.

I also was recalling eating mutton tagine in a little restaurant in Riom-es-Montagnes in the Cantal last July, visiting the region for that very same exchange student's wedding. David and our fast newly-made Australian friend Tom had a good laugh when I finally realized I was eating a somewhat strange (although still meaty) part of a sheep - when I had thought I was getting roast beef. Roast sheep part - the waitress did baa-baa - the universal language of farm animals should've been understood. And yet I enjoyed it anyway - so much so that I ordered it the next day. There aren't a lot of restaurants in those parts, and this was one dish I knew did not have cheese.

So why was I pondering all these memories while I ate the chicken tagine I cooked tonight? I had a lot of time to think. I cook mostly alone these days, and mostly for a crowd (read: my children) that don't care much for anything that might smack of cuisine. They both delayed coming to the table tonight, and groaned and said, "Do I have to eat THAT?" It's so encouraging, no doubt.

So I sat in silence, pondering thoughts of better days around a tagine. Days when Ethan used to eat it up with gusto and say, "I really like the peas (chickpeas)." I think next week we may eat sandwiches and campbell's tomato soup for dinner. Maybe with some crackers, not sure though, that they can handle that. Better make sure they are Ritz. And not anything with whole grain, or a non-famous brand box. I will most certainly do something aggregious like put a piece of lettuce on the sandwich.

I do not exaggerate.


Well, maybe a little. And at least David occasionally gives a word of encouragement every now and then. It's hard to feel the love I used to have for cooking - the comraderie is about as important as the ingredients.

Kicking off the (Chinese) New Year Right

Yesterday was a pretty action packed day. It started off nice, dark and sleepy around 4:45 am when I woke up before my alarm, a little (understatement) nervous for the run that lay before me. I'm not sure I would've signed up for it had I realized that it started at 7am, it was about an hour away, and I was supposed to be there around 6am. We know this - I am not a morning person.

The race was called the Wild Horse Trail Half-marathon, which was conducted on a fairly flat course near the Olympic Training Center at Otay Lakes. I was too wound up to take pictures, so I snagged this one from a google images search. The morning I was there wasn't quite this spectacular, but fairly close.



The last time I ran a half marathon was the Ripley Butte Challenge in Island Park, Idaho, in 2002. I had trained with David's sister Jen, who was staying with us in the summer between college to help out with the kids. What was most memorable about that race was two things: (1) We saw a dead moose, legs straight up in the air, on the way to the race, and (2) Lucy ran the kids 1 mile race (at age almost-3) and I think got 2nd place. Other memorable items included: grizzly bears knocking over water stations, racing at 7000 ft elevation, and staying in a cabin out in a field east of Ashton the night before. This event had little of that excitement.

It did have a lot of pussyfooting road runners attempting a trail run for what seemed like their first time. Seriously, people. Trails have rocks. Look down. Some trails are off-camber - be prepared for it. Walking gingerly across a difficult piece isn't necessarily safer than just going full bore with a decent stride. I was a little more than dismayed at the number of people going down on this course. It was essentially.... flat with very few rocks. I'm a little afraid what might happen to them on a real trail.

Of course to be fair, it was a little crowded. The crowd didn't thin out for me until about the 9 mile mark. Given that I usually run completely alone aside from my dogs, this was a little disconcerting for me. I think in the end it was pretty good for pacing, though, and it doesn't hurt me to actually see other humans every now and then.

This was one of those races I was pretty much just hoping to finish, although secretly I had some hope that my time wouldn't be completely awful. While I did fall apart around mile 10-ish, and struggled to hang on between 10 and 12.5, in the end I was pretty proud of my average (and proud that I could run that far at all). Although the official results are not yet posted, my time was around 2:08. My old cross country friends would certainly scoff at that time (a 9:45 min mile pace is not generally something to write home about), but for me at that distance, that's quite good. Sadly, I did the first 6 miles in 49 minutes which means the last 7 were abysmally slow. But in the grand scheme of things, it was still actually faster than that half marathon I did in 2002 - when I had been running distance much, much more regularly. I have no idea where I placed, as I didn't stick around drinking old-fashioneds at the Corner Restaurant & Bar to see the standings (might as well celebrate big, you know?). I saw a ton of women in front of me, as the race doubled back a bit, so I knew it was highly doubtful that I'd be top 3 in my age group. It's a little sad to be so middle/bottom-of-the-packish as compared to my cycling races, but it's definitely good to mix it up a bit (in my opinion).

I am fairly certain I'm going to sign up for the next race in the series - another half marathon on trails, except this one is a whole lot closer to my house. I'm just pausing a little before signing up to make sure I can walk again within a few days before I sign up for the next one.

After brunching and indulging at the Corner, David and the kids met me and we decided to wander around the GasLamp Quarter a bit. We ended up running across the Chinese New Year celebration, which was pretty cool - especially given that Lucy has just started studying Chinese this last year in school.



I know a good bed when I see one.






We spent the remainder of the day searching for our next house - which is an exciting, but daunting prospect. When $600K starts to sound reasonable, you know you're in California.

Living in the Moment: It happens to be tangy

I started this blog way back when to convince myself that I didn't hate Idaho as much as I thought I did. Going with the philosophy, "Act how you want to feel", I usually focused on the mountains and hiking and cross country skiing - I ended up convincing myself so well that for a good part of the time I've lived in California, my mind has still been in Idaho. It's really time for that to change.

In addition to the hiking and trail running I gushed about yesterday, another thing about my crazy house is completely memorable and over the top exciting - the plethora of citrus trees. The picture at right is of the tangelos - which, according to Wikipedia, "are a citrus fruit hybrid of tangerine and pomelo or grapefruit. Widely known as honeybells, tangelos are the size of an adult fist, have a tangerine taste, and are juicy at the expense of flesh."

"Juicy at the expense of flesh" - love it. Who knew wikipedia was so poetic?

Their juiciness does not, in fact, disappoint. Ours are maybe more on the side of grapefruits in terms of flavor, but it really depends on how ripe you pick them.


Right now my very favorite are the ones pictured at left - what I call the clementines, although I don't technically know what they are - except flippin' fantastic. They can tend to have a lot of seeds, but it's totally worth it. And anyway, who'd want to miss the chance of standing on the deck and spitting seeds? This tree is literally weighted down - even if I ate my weight in them (which I daily attempt to do), I don't think I could possibly eat all of them. It's blossoming right now too. Heavenly.


My mom's favorite on her last visit were the navel organges. The bumblebees are loving this tree right now, too. It unfortunately doesn't produce as much as the others - so we treasure them when they are ready.


I also can really get into the classic tangerines, which I especially crave after a long run. These tend to not have seeds and be on the tangy side - go figure.

And then last but not least - the old standby, the lemon.

These trees have been going full bore since the day we moved in. The thin skinned ones have an incredibly light yet intense flavor and hardly any seeds. You can squirt half of one in a dish it completely brightens it without a strong lemon taste - and yet if you make lemon bars with these, the lemon flavor does not disappoint.

And don't forget the lemonade.

I often spend Fridays doing not much at all after about noon. I look forward to this "nothing at all" tremendously - working ahead so that I can take off for my favorite places - like, the library, La Costa coffee house, and the beach chair by my pool. Today I had a special friend to keep me company.


I have always wanted to live in a place with fruit trees - never dreamed it would be citrus - but we don't always know what's best for us ahead of time.

Anybody have any great ideas for what to do with all the bounty (aside from giving it away - which I am also happy to do)?

Putting my soles to the dirt

As random collections of thoughts go, this post ought to be about as good as any. I was thinking about a lot of things lately - namely, flowers, trails, the amazing views of flowers and mountains I get from my trails, perfectionism, and also Wordsworth. Because I love Wordsworth. David knows that if Wordsworth were to be reincarnated and walk this earth today, I'd fall madly in love with him - there's just no hope. He knows and accepts this. It's not to be changed.

Our renting of this house on Valborg (that is the street name - and yes, both kids claim it's a name straight out of Vampire land - which it is) has brought an unbelievable range of experiences - from extreme happiness to extreme frustration. I'd never thought I'd get the opportunity to live somewhere I could hike out my back door with views of the ocean and mountains, and at the same time, I never thought I would gain the skills necessary to moonlight as a plumber specializing in septic maintenance (or a mouse killer, ant killer, beekeeper, etc).

So when I go on and on and on (and on) about how much I love the trails, it's really a coping mechanism. There really has to be a reason to keep on living in a place where my office has no electrical outlets, heat, or internet connection. And I do not exaggerate.

What is there to love? Well, it's hard to take good pictures, really, especially with a phone, which is about all I usually carry aside from the dog leashes. But here goes.

I call them "my trails" because I have only once seen another living soul on them. That was the day I did my 12.5 mile run, and a group of mountain bikers overtook me on the flats only to have me pick off the slow one and then chase one of the middle ones up the hill. He said, "You're real good motivation, you know that?"

So Wordsworth for the day. I just read these two poems, a sort of question and answer series. A friend of his asks him why he sits and stares outside all day pretty much doing nothing. He responds, eloquently (of course), and then writes a poem in reply asking his friend why he sits and reads books all day. The two poems are called "Expostulation and Reply" and "The Tables Turned (An Evening Scene on the Same Subject)".

My favorite excerpts:

"The eye - it cannot choose but see;
We cannot bid the ear be still;
Our bodies feel, where'er they be,
Against or with our will." (from "Expostulation and Reply" - part of the reply, of course)



"Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There's more of wisdom in it.
...

"One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can." (from "The Tables Turned")



And lastly, what was that about perfectionism? Well, to segue into my occasional musings on this whole "Happiness Project" business (a book I mentioned earlier, to be somewhat of a theme every now and them)... at the beginning of the book, the author asks herself if the project was just another way to "extend my driven, perfectionist ways to every aspect of my life?"

I must ask myself the same question - because upon reading that line, I thought, good God, this woman is me (or any extremely type A person). However, as I began to think on the topics in the book and explore them and attempt them, I realized that there is a whole lot of letting go that must go on inside my little pea brain in order to make serious changes on my outlook. Perfectionism in the realm of happiness-seeking simply doesn't fit. For me, a happiness project is pretty much entirely an exercise in fighting perfectionist tendencies - not encouraging them.

Maybe I should be embarrassed to admit my mad skills

So tonight I finally had the extreme pleasure of finishing my latest project. It's a little sad that I take so much pleasure in it, but it's something that doesn't involve typing, it involves something I have complete control over, and yeah, it's been a little chilly here lately so it will come in handy. At least, for tonight - as tomorrow it'll end up being about 75 degrees again.

I have been in a crocheting frenzy lately. Yeah, I said it - I crochet. And I don't just make blankets anymore. I have branched out.



Lucy is pretty much a perfect model. Here she is modeling my Saturday project - the Shells and Waves Skinny Scarf. I ended up going a little over the top and made it like 12 feet long, but hey - lots of wrapping possibilities.

Then I decided I wanted to branch out even more. I went a little crazy and picked a hat pattern - the Everyday Crocheted Slouch Hat. I am a bit ashamed to admit that I had to rip this apart and re-start three times. I'm not kidding. It's kinda pathetic, actually. But hey - today I finally finished it. And it sort of looks like the picture even. One of my attempts was going ok, then I tried to put it on my head and I realized that I have a ginormous head - and what the hell was I thinking picking the "small" adult size. Face the facts - your head is huge.

I over-compensated a little, and it's now very slouchy, but it least it fits over the noggin.

I am not nearly as good of a model as Lucy, but here goes. I think I look perhaps slightly less creepy than the girl on the pattern page - maybe.

And a close up - not the most flattering for me, but we're showing off the hat here...

I started this crochet kick last September, first by making Lucy a blanket for her bed, then Ethan. I had a lot of leftover yarn from Ethan's project, hence the new projects.

Perhaps I need to get out more?

Well, we managed to enjoy the weather a tiny bit this weekend, although it was in fact one of those rare San Diego weekends that involve a lot of rain, wind, and relative chill. It's not all milk and honey here - just mostly.



I'm open to orders if anyone decides they would absolutely ADORE having a handmade crocheted item. I might be starting a blanket for myself soon because I think the cost of the yarn and my time might be actually less than the cost of gas to heat my house - and it's damn freezing here - like 50.

The Best Afternoons

Having gotten myself way ahead of the work curve with my New Mexico trip and preparation for it last week, I had the pleasure of enjoying a glorious Friday afternoon doing nothing at all. Southern California may have its down sides, but it's pretty much absolutely perfect for kicking back with a new book, an iced tea, and some extra-large leopard print shades.

I shouldn't say I did nothing at all - I spent a good amount of time playing farmer, picking the very best citrus I could find. It's citrus season, and it sure is on. I am taking requests for shipments. I occasionally make my way down to civilization and am happy to ship off boxes - although the length of lines at places like post offices is certainly NOT one of the positive sides of living in SoCal. But that's what smart phones are for, right?

So, yeah, this is sort of a random post, but it's more in the moment than I have been lately and it's a little something I am going to try to get back into. I want a little more honesty here - much to the chagrin of people like my sister who only poke around on here to see pictures (don't worry - I'll always include at least one picture!). The last book we read in my book club was called "The Happiness Project", and while I am usually loathe to read such self-help schmaltz, I found it to be rather enlightening. This book and some other fortuitous events have led me to start looking more toward the brighter side of life than I'm accustomed to - now, don't get me wrong. My posts will certainly NOT be filled with sunshine and rainbows from here on out (although I love a rainbow as much as the next person) - but I've sort of undergone an experiment in joy - or maybe it's contentment. Hard to say. It's certainly something worth exploring, I would think.

Balboa Park: My goto place

There are some places that you can never tire of going to. They are your safe places, your havens, where you'd want to go if you had some time to kill - just to walk around, just to be there, to feel its energy.

Balboa Park is one of those places for me. I may no longer have the trails of the Tetons at my fingertips and the hiking I've experienced so far in SoCal leaves me a bit empty. Balboa Park is a fabulous answer to a problem so many cities confront - creating a believable natural space that at the same time offers tremendous social and cultural opportunities.

The kids and I had some time to kill last weekend after saying goodbye to my parents at the airport. So we headed off with plans to see the latest exhibit at the San Diego Natural History Museum, have lunch at the Tea Pavilion at the Japanese Gardens, and maybe catch the Botanical Garden.

San Diego grows some amazing succulents. Plants that you've only ever seen as house plants turn into these over-sized seemingly man-eating plants.




We hit the museum between exhibits, which was a little bit frustrating, but we enjoyed another walk through their gems exhibit - which if you haven't seen, is worth the trip. We also watched the 3D movie "Sea Rex" about marine reptiles, and epochs and eras and all that stuff I'd totally forgotten since the 3rd grade. I don't think they must have known too much about marine reptiles when I was in school ... but let's not go there, it makes me feel old.

Old and hungry - two things I don't love feeling. We allowed ourselves to get completely starving, as usual, but fortunately the Japanese Garden was not far away. There is nothing too special about the Tea Pavilion food - I just love it. It's simple, it's fresh, and actually, the tea is pretty special. I'm a basic person, you know? I just love a rice bowl.


We finished up with a walk through the Botanical Garden. While Ethan mainly saves his love and admiration for creatures (sea creatures especially), he has a soft spot for plants as well. I think we had the potential to stay there a lot longer (there are in fact tags on everything - which in Ethan's mind must all be read), but Lucy doesn't have Ethan's naturalist spirit. As they are getting older, it is getting to be a bit more of a challenge to balance their personalities and our family activity choices. It sounds so peaceful when I say like that.

Planet Z Bird: Lucy's latest 7th Grade Project

This topic is almost too good to be true. I mean, seriously, just look at that thing. It pretty much speaks for itself.

But since it can't talk, it has two of the world's best advocates - why Lucy and David, that is. Want something ridiculous explained in a fairly plausible manner? You know who to call.

This project was a mass of toppled bottle bird belly and partially formed clay in the afternoon. By 9pm, it had a name, a history, a purpose, and it stood on two legs (and a beak). I knew to bow out of this battle, for David is a master at making something out of nothing.

Rather than continuing on in my own words, I give you Lucy:

Planet Z Bird

My bird is perfectly adapted to its environment. The ground is made out of red sand. The bird is red to blend in. Since the plants are not very tall the bird will be only tall enough to reach for nuts lodged in the ground. The harshly cold climate requires that the bird have a thick coat of feathers in order to keep warm. The main diet of the bird is nuts so it will have a sharp crooked beak so that it can pry open the nuts.

Since the amount of female birds is small the Planet Z bird has an extravagant array of feathers in order to attract a mate. It does this by making all the plumage along the body stand up. The eyes of the bird also play a big part in the attraction of a mate. In order to get the birds attention, it hypnotizes the potential partner with its swirling eyes. At this time of year my bird is molting off its feathers. The large talons are to crack open nuts. The wide feet are used to walk along the deep sand like snow shoes.

The early explorers of Planet Z nicknamed the bird George because its fanciful display of plumage reminded them of their leader George who wore a thick government issued red parka to protect him against the cold. However the Latin name for the bird also has a story behind it. The Latin name is aviarus seuss since the bird reminded the scientists of the illustrations in Dr Seuss’s children’s book.