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Winter Pear Salad: A Gifted Dish

Tom
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22

winter pear salad

The good, among the bad and the ugly of the refrigerator.

After the holidays, my refrigerator can resemble a food morgue with rows of Tupperware caskets sealing in freshness or fuzzy blue mold as the case may be. After deciding to exhume the bad dishes of Christmas past and make way for a culinary New Year, I was delighted to rediscover some epicurean gifts tucked among the sarcophagi of scary leftovers: Oregon Comice pears from Leslie and Olivia; fresh Georgia pecans from my Mom and Dad; a slab of Shropshire Blue from Tamara; a voluptuous carafe of aged balsamic from Denise; and a meaty ham bone from this resident ham bone. As culinary kismet would have it, I had everything I needed to make one of my favorite winter salads–a gifted dish indeed.

Recipe: Winter Pear Salad

Ingredients:

  • 3 peeled Comice pears (or Bosc or D’Anjou pears)
  • 1/2 cup of chopped pecans
  • 1/2 cup of crumbled Shropshire Blue cheese (or Stilton or blue cheese)
  • 1 cup of chopped ham (or omit for vegetarian status)
  • 1 T. of aged balsamic vinegar
  • 1 T. of olive oil
  • Ground pepper to taste

Preparation:

  1. Chop cored peeled pears into bite-sized pieces.
  2. Add pears to salad bowl
  3. Add chopped pecans
  4. Add crumbled cheese
  5. Add chopped ham
  6. Drizzle balsamic and olive oil over mixture
  7. Toss, let it sit for a couple minutes and toss again to incorporate released pear juice
  8. Pepper to taste
  9. Serves 4 as side salads, or 2 as dinner salads

I love this salad and make variations of it all winter. Ripe pears make it sing, blue cheese adds vibrato, nuts provide percussion and ham packs a salty punch. Experiment with your favorite fruits, cheeses and nuts. Sometimes I mix in wild salad greens or Boston bibb lettuce, that is when the contents of my crisper don’t resemble sea kelp.

PS–My blog pal Stacey also offers up a delicious variation of a pear salad on her site.

Resolution One: Err on the Side of Kindness

Tom
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My alter ego, as captured by Iris Taboh

I’m not perfect, never will be, but the first day of each new year arrives at my door with a fresh coat of potential–potential to be a better man. (Be assured, it’s more of a journey than a destination.) This morning I’m on my front porch, warmed by a Hudson Bay, cup of coffee and a stack of good intentions, though freezing temperatures are testing all. Each steamy breath evaporates into stillness and the stars shine through a fretwork of branches. All is new, all is right with the world. (Of course, I’ve only been up for fifteen minutes.)

Back inside warming my dogs (both pooches and feet) before an overworked space heater, I think about 2010. A dizzying year with a heavy case load of life lessons, I ask myself, “What did I really learn?” The list is long and it changes daily, but if I had to distill it down to one thing, I’d have to say I learned to err on the side of kindness.

So many things happened this year that stopped me in my tracks. Some were tragic, some life-altering, some simple truths. When I thought I knew it all, I knew nothing. When I judged, I did it from one side. When I talked before I listened, I served little good. When I spoke ill of others, I diminished myself. When humanity needed an advocate, I was off watching Oprah.

If I may share a simple story:

My tray was in its upright position, my seat belt fastened.  The flight was packed, but the two seats next to me were empty. (Happy dance.) Right before the flight attendant closed the door, a young woman and toddler bounded on the plane with enough supplies for a week on Mount Everest. The flight attendant stated the obvious, “You need to hurry and take your seats.”  Passenger irritation was palpable. And while I knew I would leave the flight wrinkled, covered in crumbs and gummy fingerprints, I took sympathy on the Mom and got up to help her stowaway her base camp.  (Don’t get me wrong, I was still pouting about the loss of my arm rest and personal space.)

I said, “Tough crowd, eh?” and she smiled and said, “You don’t know the half of it.” Well, it was a five-hour flight, so she had plenty of time to tell me the half of it, and it was quite a story. A military wife with a husband on his second remote tour, she had had a tough couple years.

I first saw her as an unfortunate seat taker, and then three time zones later I knew her as an amazingly resilient Mother and wife who had been through a lot. She had a story, one that made me feel like a lightweight. Who she was, was initially not who I saw.

There are other stories, some with a bigger punch,  a few that are sad, but they all share the same message. If a neighbor needs a hand, lend it. If a stranger lacks a smile, share one. If someone turns a cruel word, counter it with a kind one. If you know not the situation, honor it with silence.

I know I don’t have all the answers, but I hope I have a few, and I feel if I start out (and hopefully continue) by erring on the side of kindness, 2011 will be a very good year.

Putting on the Dog in Coats of Tartan…

Tom
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18

As if modeling for a Burberry ad, Boz and Gracie strike a pose.

My Mother is remarkably inventive and resourceful. I’d bet a week’s wages that she could make a ball gown out of burlap or a fishing pole from a flyswatter. When I told her Boz and Gracie were frozen sausages during a recent and lengthy power outage, I could hear the wheels turning. In addition to being our family’s in-house MacGyver, my mother is also a devoted animal lover– dogs in particular, Boz and Gracie very specifically.

Boz, always a sartorial slave to Saville Row, prefers a roll collar.

So yesterday when a parcel post addressed to Boz and Gracie graced my Northwest mailbox, I had a suspicion that the contents would not only warm my dogs, but also my heart. After making her own patterns, my Mom sewed up some canine couture worth barking about, tartan capes fit for a regal breed.

Gracie, at home on the couch or in the field, appreciates the flexibility of fleece.

My old farmhouse is a about as energy efficient as a gazebo with a space heater, so I keep the thermostat on 60 degrees and wear a sweater. Now thanks to Mom, all residents at Tall Clover are both warm and bespoke.

“Yeah the sweaters are nice, but are you telling me there were no dog treats in that box?”

Merry Christmas From My House to Yours

Tom
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10

No white stuff this year, but I love recalling 2008, when a lush blanket of snow halted everything on the island but our laughter and delight.

What’s that Boz? You just spotted Sasquatch down by the orchard.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

(Now call someone you love.)

Boz the Bulldog and the Art of Begging

Tom
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7

As I was finishing up my last-minute to-do list, Boz (beefy gymnast that he is) was preoccupied with scaling El Capitan kitchen chair, preferring the one cushioned with wool sweaters.  I chose to ignore the eye-level interloper as this was inappropriate bulldog behavior.

In a bold move, Boz leaped to bridge the two-foot chasm between chair and table.

When I asked, “What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Boz resorted to an old trick. “If I look away, he can’t see me.” (It’s his form of cloaking device.)

With fixed gaze on a plate of buttered toast, the focused whimpering began.

When that failed, Boz resorted to his secret weapon: bullie stare-down and mind-meld.  Trouble is, it worked. (Who’s the dog, who’s the master?)

As for Gracie, napping trumps begging, any day.

Happiness Is a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree

Tom
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Watching A Charlie Brown Christmas was as much of a holiday tradition growing up as pulling taffy, baking sugar cookies and hanging stockings.  First airing in 1965, the TV special was groundbreaking; a melancholy melon-headed kid with a jazz-scored life dared to asked, “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?”

So as I ponder my homegrown tree’s transformation from gangly sapling to dreamy Christmas confection,  I toast the the Charlie Browns of the world–the souls who see beauty in the overlooked, to the good hearts who share a kind word and a smile when least expected, and to the  blockheads who teach us so much even when we don’t wish to listen.

No tree is complete without some bulldog ornamentation.

Less is more has never been an aesthetic of mine.

I welcome back ornaments like a reunion of cherished friends and fond memories. (Gabriel is first to be placed.)

These sequined treasures were rescued from a yard sale.  If they could only talk.

Merry Christmas Charlie Brown!

Recalling When Christmas Came to Vashon Island

Tom
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9

The old place bedazzled by swags of C-9s.

I was revisiting some of my past Christmas posts, and stumbled upon the one that follows. While I do hate to repeat myself, I thought, heck I’ve seen A Charlie Brown Christmas a bazillion times and I can recite the entire script of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Reruns are a Christmas tradition. That said, I thought I’d share a fond recollection of a Christmas past, one that I think of with great fondness this time of year.

An angel in last year’s tree inspiring this year’s intentions.

A Recollection: When Christmas Came to Vashon

Living on an island has its challenges, but it also has its rewards, revealing special moments that speak to the kinship of isolation and the camaraderie of everyone being in (and on) the same boat.

While commuting by ferry creates bottlenecks and headaches daily, it also fosters a bond, an unspoken appreciation that someone else shares your daily round-trip odyssey. The smiles and nods to familiar strangers, one day makes them friends. So tonight when I returned to the island from a very long day in a less-welcoming place, I stood on the bow well before we reached Vashon Island. I savored that simple joy of returning home. The wind was bracing, the sky spun with gold, and the Olympic Mountains seized the horizon and my attention.

On the open car deck, Christmas trees topped a number of vehicles.  One Jeep sported a wreath on its grille, the kids behind its steamed-up windows singing spirited renditions of the season’s best (between punches). I smiled, their parents smiled. The choir continued the concert.

With the din of the ferry silenced, we docked and I disembarked, walking more than briskly toward the warm, waiting bus. A stream of cars sped off the ferry and then one honked. I turned in time to see Santa in an SUV giving us a wave. I returned a smile and hearty hat tip.

Christmas had come to Vashon.  I just had no idea we’d share the same ferry.

Eggnog Ice Cream: The Easiest Recipe Ever

Tom
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36

Eggnog Ice Cream – About as easy (and delicious) as it gets!I’ve never met a doughy spatula, messy mixing bowl or sauce-covered whisk I didn’t like. My insistence on quality control requires sampling the seasoning, monitoring the mix and rating the ratatouille. I’m drawn to butter batter like sprinkles to a Christmas cookie.

So it came as no surprise after sampling my first sip of eggnog for the year that I had a delicious epiphany. The flavor, consistency and color of eggnog are spot-on with the same characteristics of ice cream custard.  Taste buds never lie, and the culinary distance from a cup of Creme Anglaise to a sup of the old ‘nog is a short one.

Because gadgets are my friends, I wondered what would happen if I poured eggnog straight out of the carton into my ice cream maker (a revered gadget deluxe). The answer was simple and quick: delicious eggnog ice cream in about 20 minutes.

While many holiday recipes are often as complex as the blueprints to Chartres Cathedral, this is not one of them. It’s as delicious as it is easy.

RECIPE: World’s Easiest Eggnog Ice Cream

Ingredients

  • Quart of eggnog
  • 1 T of bourbon or brandy or rum (optional, though recommended)

Equipment: Counter-top ice cream maker

  • Forget all other ice cream makers; this small convenient version (in the link above) sports an insert you place in the freezer and remove when it’s ice-cream-making time.  While everyone loves the idea of a hand-crank model, this one doesn’t require ice cubes, rock salt or convincing kids that it’s a fun activity.

Preparation (pour, turn on and eat)

  1. Remove ice-cream-making insert from freezer
  2. Place on machine, add paddle insert
  3. Pour in eggnog, leave 2 inches from the top for expansion
  4. Add 1 T of preferred libation (the alcohol adds a smoothness to the ice cream)
  5. Add clear cover, turn on machine
  6. Ice cream is ready when the eggnog is rich, thick and creamy (about 15-20 minutes)

I challenge you to find an easier and more delicious ice cream recipe. Enjoy!

ENTREES DES ARTISTES: Remembering Buzz

Tom
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Portrait of Love: Buzz, grandson Isaac, and Karin

My life in this fine old farmhouse began several years ago, my arrival another chapter in its long history. I am not the first, nor will I be last to be sheltered by its walls or comforted by its presence.

The first time I entered The Peach Palace, I was greeted by a door plaque that spoke volumes about the couple who placed it there: ENTREE DES ARTISTES. Even before I knew Buzz and Karin, their presence in the house was felt, their love palpable, their family life rich.

A lot can be wrong with a 100-year-old farmhouse, but a lot can be right, too. Their simple Victorian glowed with a patina of joy. Every room felt like a treasure box of memories, every window shared light as drawn from the outdoors and as illuminated from within.  I was smitten, first with the house and then with the family who brought it to life.

On November 16, Buzz Brusletten passed away peacefully at his home, following a period of declining health.  We will missed him terribly, his gentle soul, his passion for music, his quiet humor, and his kind nature.

I’m grateful to have the gift of living in a place where his memory lingers. The trellises he built will still welcome summer vines. The bathhouse will still echo the hours of music lessons learned there. The painting he gave me will always brighten my walls and honor my orchard. His afternoons of reading by the fireplace will be re-called when I sit down to read and warm my feet, and the trees he planted will still call for my rake when the time is right.

And perhaps most telling of all, is now when I walk through the door that announces ENTREE DES ARTISTES, I will recall one artist who never really left.

Buzz painted a future day for my young peach trees, a harvest as bountiful as his spirit.

After the Storm: Two Days Lost, Two Days Found

Tom
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11

Where there’s a will there’s a way: survival depends on hot coffee.

Mother Nature provided a reality check this week,  dispatching an arctic storm that toppled trees, sliced power lines, coated roads with ice and dispensed record low temperatures. The formidable storm left the entire island in the cold and without power.

Was I prepared? Uh, no.

The first day was stunning, a winter wonderland viewed from my warm house–cocoa in hand, Ella on the iPod. That night high winds blew in from the coast and the house began to creak (like my joints after a day of gardening).

About 3:00 a.m., I was awakened by a jarring crackle,  followed by a frightening crash.  The November gale had taken out the old madrona outside my bedroom window. Boz and Gracie, who usually bark at anything from lint to rustling leaves, were content to sleep through my backyard deforestation.

Downed madrona (missed it by that much). Photo was taken after the big thaw

November storms in the Northwest pack a wallop and are legendary, conjuring up winds that can disassemble a suspension bridge or sink one designed to float. A few minutes later, the power went out and the temperatures dropped, two realities that didn’t change for the next 48 hours.

When it was all said and done, modern life had stopped: no heat, no hot water, no phone or computer, that which I take for granted was gone.  In a stroke of unfortunate timing, I had just removed my wood stove to rebuild the hearth and fireback around it. I toyed with the idea of reconnecting it without fire retardant flooring and backing, but that seemed like a surefire way to win next year’s Darwin Award.

When I look back on those two days (now that feeling has returned to my fingers and toes), I have to say I learned a lot about myself, my neighbors and my community; warmth isn’t always supplied by electricity.

Lessons Learn:

  1. Be Prepared.
  2. Gas furnaces and water heaters have electric starters.
  3. Without heat, inside temperatures equal outside temperatures in about five hours.
  4. A kitchen timer comes in handy when reminding you to flush toilets and run water every hour to keep pipes from freezing.
  5. It takes three down comforters to keep two bulldogs warm.
  6. Two days without a shower and sleep, you begin to resemble Jack Nicholson in The Shining.
  7. You can play Scrabble in gloves and by candlelight.
  8. Coffee and toast made in a fireplace taste better. (Thank you Phoebe!)
  9. Turn off your heater and you too can recreate the ice palace scene in Dr Zhivago.
  10. Neighbors who share the heat of their wood stoves are going to heaven.

Things are back to normal now, but I did learn one more thing. At first I thought I had endured two days lost, but the truth is they were two days found.

PS — Here’s a good read from The Seattle Times about some Vashon neighbors who were prepared.

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