Dog Art Today

Still Life: Basil Bouquet and Dachshund

"Darby and Basil Bouquet," Moira McLaughlin, Dog Bar 9.16.09

I picked up my farm share from Four Frog Farm today.  I was pleased with the tomatoes, potatoes, corn, peppers, melon, and garlic in the box, but Maggie told me to wait, she had to go into the cooler and get the basil.  She brought out this bouquet and told me to keep it in water.  I did, and it is so beautiful I had to share.

Dispatch from Dog Bar: TFADBBBTPB is a Big Hit

Layla coloring (Darby photo in background by Grace Chon)

Labor Day weekend ushered in The First Annual Dog Bar Bocce Ball Tournament and Plum Bake (TFADBBBTPB) at my house.  And although the event was small, just my sister Sheila, her husband Greg, and their girls, Layla and Sabrina, it was wildly successful -- the one-day event spread into the whole weekend.  Unfortunately, we had so much fun we forgot to take lots of photos.  With the help of Google Images I've pieced together this report...

First things first.  Sheila, Layla and I went next door to Pauline's to pick plums.  We wore our boots (I got to wear my red Wellies for the first time, thank you Allison) to ward against the burrs and Layla carried the basket.   The tree was so heavy with tiny French plums, Layla could pick them without a boost up.  Sadly, once we filled up the basket, she tried to lift it and was knocked off balance into a thorny bush and scratched her arm.  Not too bad, but there were tears.  Sheila hoisted her up piggy-back-style and we walked up the hill to the apple trees and picked some more fruit before heading home.

To distract Layla from the gash and the little drops of blood on the back of her arm.  We skipped the plum bake portion of the day and went out back to figure out Bocce Ball.  We raked the enclosed pit next to my deck and absorbed enough of the rules to give it a go.  Let me tell you, Bocce Ball is FUN.  Again, no pics, but this groovy Italian family getting their game on gives you the idea...

Bravo!       

...see how there are several generations playing?   It really is a game that is fun for the whole family.  But when the girls got bored and we set them up with crayons and paper, giving us an "Adults Only" round, I felt the true pull of Bocce.  It could get very addictive and I began to see why several countries outlawed it at various times throughout history because their people were just too distracted by it.  In fact, supposedly  English Admiral Sir Frances Drake was playing Bocce when he was told that the attack by the Spanish armada was imminent.  His response: “First, we finish the game, then we have time for invincible armada.”

 

"Just one more game," Sir Frances Drake

I also found this image of miners playing, appropriate for the Gold Country I now call home...

 

And, I guess once the kiddies go to bed and the wine keeps flowing (yes, you can drink and play), things could get interesting...

 

"Bocce Ball" by Gary Ruddell via Gregg Chadwick's blog.

Anyway, we played a few more rounds then had dinner.  I made tomato and cucumber salad, cole slaw with carrots and corn, and farfalle with portobello mushrooms and sage.  Yummy, I must say.   And that was it.  No plum bake.  Luckily, I had baked two plum tortes the night before, so the Bocce Ball didn't prevent us from having dessert.

So, Layla and Sheila came over the next morning (top photo) and we got baking.  Here's me making sure I have doubled the recipe correctly...

"Two sticks of butter equals one cup."

"Plum Blossom" by Eizan, c. 1820

Sheila turned her attention to chutney (more on that in another post).  And Layla and I played cooking school.  I taught her word like batter, offset spatula, and springform pan.  Then, I showed her how to place the plums just so...

 

my plum torte

Layla had other ideas...

 

Layla's plum torte

    Regardless, they both turned out great...

ta da!

If you have any plums, I highly recommend this recipe.  It's from the New York Times, passed along to me by my mother.  We grew up on it.  It's a classic, because it is deceivingly simple for how good it turns out.  In fact, we gave a plum torte to Pauline as a thank you for her generosity with her fruit.  The next day she was raving about it and begging for the recipe.  "Don't forget!" she said.  "If you do, I am going to call you."   Now, when an 87 year-old woman who grew up in an orchard demands a recipe, you know it's good.

So that was the inaugural TFADBBBTPB.  Can't wait for the second annual one.  Or the next round of Bocce.  Anyone up for a game?

P.S. I am getting my first CSA box today (community supported agriculture or farm share).  Wonder what the farmers will give me.  It feels kind of Christmas-y, without the stress.  Stay tuned to find out what I got...

Dispatch from Dog Bar: One Month Anniversary

Tomorrow marks the one month anniversary of my move to a house just of Dog Bar Road in Grass Valley, CA.   I can't believe how much has changed.  Here are some highlights:

One morning, my neighbor Pauline called over the fence and asked me if I wanted apricots.  Her tree was heavy with them.  I grabbed a bag, waded through the burrs, and climbed up the ladder to pick as many as I could without feeling greedy.  She told me to take more.  I had big plans to make a pie, but we ended up eating them as is -- perfect.

Back in May, when I first looked at the house, there were two goats and a broken down Chevy in the backyard.  I made sure both would go in the lease that I signed.  The truck offended my aesthetic sensibilities, and livestock overwhelmed me.  When I moved in, the goats were gone.  And the truck would disappear once the firewood that was blocking its tow path was removed.  Then I found out the goats weren't happy where they were boarding.  I suggested they come home for a trial period, and, well, I fell in love with them.  Girl Goat (left) is like a rambunctious Lab, always eager to get her ears scratched.  Boy Goat (right) is a sweetheart. Yesterday I asked my landlord if the Chevy could stay because the kids love climbing on it so much.  He wants to save it from total destruction, so then I started thinking about how I could build them a jungle gym with the free wood I saw by the side of the road.  Ummm...what has happened to me?!

 

Celebrating my niece Layla's 4th birthday on my deck.  It's nice to be a daily part of a family again.

 

One of the best parts of my new house is the guest room.  I have already had friends Allison, Noah, and Reese come visit.  Reese (above) and Darby hit it off. 

 

My niece Sabrina.  Irresistible.

 

I love my tin roof.  I like to think of it as a magnet and a beacon.  And, according to the NY Times, it's saving our planet.  So it's kind of a super hero too.

 

Last night, Layla came over to help me pick peaches from the tree in my backyard with her mom, Sheila, and her sister, Sabrina.  I was also experimenting with the white eggplant I bought at the farmers' market.  I have never seen a white eggplant (the kind that gives the vegetable its name) and likened it to the sacred White Buffalo of Native American legends.  It was spectacular...

...Unfortunately, it is so mild it doesn't have that eggplanty taste we expect.  I made whole wheat penne with eggplant, onion, garlic, toasted pine nuts, basil, mint and Pecorino cheese.  It turned out good, not great.  I think I let the eggplant soak up too much of the pasta water.   Need to tinker some more before I pass on the recipe.

It was such a fun night picking peaches, experimenting in my lab (kitchen), talking to the goats, meeting Bones the neighbor's cat, and coloring at the kitchen table on the huge sheets of packing paper left over from my move.  Layla didn't want to leave.  She had one more peach for the road...

 

Next up, I need to do something with all those peaches.  I am thinking peach chutney.  Developing...

P.S.  Thank you Noah, Allison and Reese for taking the top six photos, and Sheila for the last three. 

P.P.S.  I am selling my 9' 3" surfboard so I can buy a new camera.  Click here to see the ad.

Dispatch from Dog Bar: Part I

Dog Bar is the name of the main road that snakes through my new neighborhood here in Grass Valley.  It has a history that goes back to at least 1850 as one of the main turnpikes into the gold fields and it was probably named for the dog-leg bend in the nearby Bear River.  I see it as good omen for my relocation of Dog Art Today, and I love that I can see the Dog Bar Road signpost as I look out my window and attempt to capture what it feels like to live up here in Gold Country.  A wormhole (a hypothetical tunnel connecting two different parts in spacetime) is the best analogy I have come up with.  But I still can't decide if I have gone back in time to wood-burning stoves or forward in time to post-apocalyptic self-sufficiency.  Or perhaps I have simply popped up in a parallel universe.  Needless to say, I am still getting my bearings.

Overall I love it here.  Things are quiet, but intense.  There is so much activity that I have joked that I need to get back to the city to find some relaxation.  You see people here are "do-ers."  For example on July 4th they don't serve hot dogs and hamburgers, they roast a whole pig or a side of beef.  There are farmers' markets every two days and a street fair once a week.  Swimming in the river or a hike in the mines might fill up a slow morning.

Sometimes I can't help but feeling like a lazy barbarian with my Saran Wrap and my desire to have heat installed before the first frost.  I step on the hose when I water, and I am not sure what to do with the compost pile accumulating in my back yard.  I had a meltdown at K-Mart when I had to choose a nozzle.  The nozzle, you see, is a very personal decision each gardener must make for herself.  I call myself a gardener because yesterday I planted eight tomato seedlings.  They were given to me by my neighbor who has a magnificent garden, but one day aspires to farm several acres using a horse and plow -- can you see my confusion about which direction I have traveled?

The above photo was taken Saturday night at the Naggiar Winery, several miles up the road.  I went with my sister and brother-in-law to a screening of "Bottle Shock", a film about the 1976 triumph of California wines at a blind tasting in Paris.  We picnicked, enjoyed discovering our new favorite white wine (Viognier) and oooooed and ahhhed at the double rainbows arcing above us.  I felt like I was in Italy.  But it was better than Italy, because I was home.

Once I find my camera in the boxes still to be unpacked, Darby and I will head out on some adventures and post about them here in my new series, "Dispatches from Dog Bar."  Any tips from local readers would be greatly appreciated.