Dogs for Lunch

Since little Amelia came into this world, Grandpa Pat has repeatedly threatened to feed her a can of vienna sausages. I think today's lunch may be as close as we'll (hopefully) ever come to consuming one of those nitrate packed little links of miscellaneous animal bits. Here she is enjoying her first Smart Dog. I was even hesitant to allow this marvel of movern food technology, but (sigh) it had been a long day.

P.S. I wonder why Grandpa Pat has gout??? Could be a reaction to his love affair with canned meats...

And she walks...

Here are the first few steps, but still no teeth.

Gluten, Wheat, Dairy, Soy, Egg and Nut Free

Gluten, Wheat, Dairy, Soy, Egg and Nut Free. It's not much fun, especially if you have ever had a brownie void of all the afore mentioned ingredients. Resembles what I imagine cocoa flavored tar to be like. The diet is no good, but the kid has an allergy. Apparently it's to one of those 6 things, but to tell you the truth I'm not entirely sure she isn't just allergic to me. She came out scowling and maybe it was a sign. I guess it wasn't so much of a scowl as a disapproving pout, but regardless she may have know then what doctors to this day haven't been able to determine. I'm allergic to my mom.

Okra Mae's Shower

Here are a few pictures from the shower on Saturday, including Henry's first dog ride on Tess. Of course we forgot to take pictures until the end, but the weather was fantastic (sunny and 80 degrees) and we had a great time.

A little Charger's cheerleader outfit for Sundays with dad.

Belly is getting BIGGER!

Martha and Karen looking a little suspect...

Lisa and Cara hard at work before the guests arrive.
Cara made the best cupcakes and Lisa whipped up this fabulous fruit dip with marshmallow!

And here's a video that was taken of little Okra Mae at the doctor's office on Friday. Pretty neat!

It's a GIRL!

Here she is, 18 weeks and 6 days old. The first two are profiles, the third is a hand and the fourth is a foot. Judging by her behavior during the ultra sound, we think she's going to be trouble. She already has a mind of her own. Regardless, we're looking forward to meeting her...

Best Birthday Ever

A few weekends past I had the good fortune (thanks to a good husband) to spend my thirtieth year in San Francisco with the likes of a Miss Alice Waters. Well, in all honesty Alice was present only in spirit, her body busy elsewheres (the Governator was inducting her into the California Hall of Fame, otherwise I'm sure she would have joined us ), but forgive me, I'm getting ahead of myself... Saturday began with toasted bagels and coffee at Sandy's before yoga class which is always time well spent. The highlight being a student exclaiming in Casey's general direction, "You must be Wally's brother!" Wally is Sandy's little dog, who by the way wouldn't come near us after spending nearly 14 hours together--and we all know brothers can't just shake hands, brothers gotta hug. Wally is not a good brother, but a cute little dog none the less.

After a nap and a shower we headed over to Berkeley for a gastronomical experience. Tasty spot #1, Monterey Market, a true Berkeley institution. All the locals foraging through multitudes of mushrooms and a bevy of berries. It was there we spotted a bin of the prized morel mushrooms. Which coincidentally I recently spotted on a hike through the woods of San Juan Island. There was a small cluster of the delectables hiding at the base of a tree trunk which Casey insisted I not disturb, let alone eat. I just wanted it on record, that I had in fact discovered the earthen treasures in the wild. There should be a girl scout badge for that... Although that could lead to a lot of poisoned little girls and then when would we get our cookies?? It also should be noted, according to Dr. Sharon Tran, it's more common than one might think for a family to end up in the hospital after enjoying some foraged mushrooms.

Tasty spot #2 was a little pizza place, Gioia Pizza, across from the Monterey Market that John insisted is THE BEST pizza in the bay area. And yes we were having dinner in a few short hours, but we decided to stop in and split a few slices. I must admit, he was right. The crust was crisp on the bottom, but still soft throughout and the cheese was just divine. After our cheezy indulgence we headed for the hills and tasty spot #3, the home of Teddy, where John and a few others have sowed a rather divine garden. Teddy happens to be one of those exquisitely aged women and when I meet my 86th year as she has, I hope I too can comfortably sip tea perched atop a yoga ball. That would be a triumph. After our tea we headed out for a tasting tour of the season full of spinach and snap peas plucked right off the vine. It was a delight and the crescendo of the evening was still before us, dinner at Chez Panisse.



Now I'm not sure exactly how much I should tell you about this dinner. On the one hand I want you to know how splendid our evening was, but on the other I would hate to build up your expectations should you choose to go there for your special day. Well, I'll tell you we had a fabulous time. The service was warm and attentive, the food surpassed expectations and the company could not be beat. Here's what we enjoyed:

Pizzetta with crimini mushrooms
Riverdog Farm asparagus salad with hazelnuts and prosciutto
(enjoyed by all)

Farro pasta with Soul Farm chicken and morel mushroom ragu (Sharon and me)
Northern halibut with green beans, beets and aioli (John)
Grilled Laughing Stock Farm pork leg with peas, carrots, fried shoestring potatoes, and sage (Casey)

Lucerno Farms strawberry shortcake with creme chantilly
Fresh ice cream with bittersweet chocolate sauce and chocolate cookies
(enjoyed by all)

Seed Exchange

Last summer was my first genuine effort at growing tomatoes. I cheated and bought small plants from the Home Depot. Nothing special, just run-of-the-mill roma tomatoes. The whole experience was fairly effortless, aside from those pesky caterpillars with the spiky horn on their head. I think they should be called devil worms, but the official name is Manduca quinquemaculata. Perhaps you've had the misfortune of seeing one. Most gardeners suggest the best defense is picking them off by hand. Unfortunately, I cannot touch them for fear of either being poked by that awful horn or accidentally applying too much pressure and squishing their guts out. The latter would spin me straight into a wobbler, assuming the guts come out all green and gooey. When we were were youngsters (living out on the rural route), John and I would walk down to the pond to go fishing. Once this kid got a hook in his eye, but that's another story. I never made it to worming my own hook. I hate touching wormy-squishy things. They're never actually dead you know. They just grow new parts and keep wiggling. Yuck.

Anyways, wigglers aside, I got the idea of starting tomatoes from seed from Casey's master gardener of a grandpa last summer. After one of our Sunday morning visits, he sent us home with a large heirloom variety from his backyard and told me to dry the seeds out on a paper towel and drop them in a little soil come spring. Well spring is here and the seeds are germinating. So far no snags. Just put them in some soil and left them to cook on top of the refrigerator. Should be interesting to see what comes up. Well, I'm sure they'll be tomatoes, but you know what I mean.

Some of you may be surprised by my interest in tomatoes. It use to be that ketchup was the only form of tomato I could bear to choke down. A summer trip to Italy, where the tomatoes taste like candy, changed all that. You've never had a better tomato than an Italian tomato. It's near impossible to find a tomato as good, but I've found the trick is you have to grow your own—vine ripe, never refrigerated, the uglier the better. Have you had an exceptional tomato lately? Let's swap seeds! Dry the seeds out on a paper towel and drop it in the mail. Don't bother with any ordinary varieties. It needs to be something unusual. The more exotic the better... maybe something striped or purple or just extra tasty. I'll be waiting, trowel in hand.