A Patriotic Celebration!

What would it be like to have dinner with one of the Founding Fathers . . . say, Benjamin Franklin . . . ?

Oh, to be treated to that razor-sharp wit - as long as it wasn't directed at me, of course!  So many sayings we use nowadays were coined by the clever Mr. Franklin!  Here's one of my favorite quotes:  “Wine is constant proof that God loves us and loves to see us happy.”  A man after my own heart!  Do you have a favorite BF quote?

We tried the Cabernet Sauvignon with Mr. Franklin's portrait on the label to make an Apple-Berry Sangría.  I wonder if he ever tasted sangría.  Did you know that the word sangría is a derivative of sanguis, the Latin word for blood?  Literally, it means bleeding.

A Spaniard of long ago might have said to his tavern keeper:  “¡Prepara una sangría!” (Prepare a bleeding!), meaning, of course, “Prepare a pitcher of that delicious concoction with red wine and brandy and fruit,” not a true bleeding, unless, of course, he was referring to a bull fight . . . Yikes! Not going there, at least, not today.

There are as many recipes for sangría, as there are sangría lovers.  I have never found the definitive recipe. My husband and I traveled all over Spain on our honeymoon sampling local variations.  I mean, when in Spain . . . We have carried on with the quest for over 30 years now, and it's still ongoing . . . No task is too onerous to make the world a better place . . .

I was inspired for this table by the bandanna tablecloth.  I kept imagining cowboys on a cattle drive, wearing colorful bandannas around their necks . . .

And later stopping to pick a posy of wildflowers for their sweetheart . . .

It was too hot for a heavy meal so we kept the menu simple  . . .

Hamburgers with all the trimmings and my homemade potato salad.  Potato salad is another one of those dishes for which everybody has a favorite recipe, but here's mine:

5 lbs. red potatoes (if you are going to make it, you might as well commit), peeled and cubed
1 dz. eggs, hard-boiled and coarsely chopped
1 yellow onion finely chopped
3 stalks of celery, diced
2 cups Hellmann's mayonnaise
½ cup white wine vinegar
¼ cup granulated sugar
Salt and pepper to taste

Boil the potatoes until just done.  Add chopped eggs, onion and celery.  In a small bowl mix the mayo, vinegar, sugar, salt and pepper.  Pour over the potato-egg mixture.  Combine thoroughly. Chill. Garnish with Spanish smoked paprika (I prefer it to Hungarian Paprika) and parsley sprigs.

A strong recommendation:  Please use the very best wine vinegar you can find, instead of using pickle brine. Nowadays commercial brines are made with the cheapest quality distilled vinegars, often derived from petroleum, and then sweetened with high-fructose corn syrup. Enough said.

We saved room for dessert:  Cherries Jubilee over Vanilla Bean Ice Cream!  As you can see, I'm still playing with cherries.  This time, I got to light them on fire with the help of a little kirsch!  My first flambée!

I used Martha Stewart's recipe. Here's the link:  Cherries Jubilee.  Make sure your ice cream is very hard, as it will melt quickly when you add the warm cherries.  If this happens, do not despair, do like I did, and eat it like soup!  It will still be vastly delicious!  I'll be making this again.  After all, practice makes perfect! (That's not a Ben Franklin quote, but doesn't it sound like it ought to be?).

The photo below was taken on Father's Day at U.S. Cellular Field, where we watched the Chicago White Sox beat the Texas Rangers 3-2.  That big, ol' Star-Spangled Banner stretched out across the field makes it perfect to add to this post, and gives me an opportunity to show off the handsome men in my life!

Happy Independence Day!  As my youngest son is being deployed to Kuwait, I pray for his safety and that of all of our soldiers; it is because of their sacrifice that we can celebrate on this day.  Peace.

I'm joining Susan at Between Naps on the Porch for the weekly Tablescape Thursday party!  Please stop in and take a peak at all the marvelous tablescapes!

Tea Bread Tuesday: Cherry Almond Bread

For those who don't know by now, I love tea breads.  A slice of fruity bread, paired with a cup of tea can bring a lot of joy to my day.  Then, if a rainy, summer afternoon happens to come my way, on a day when I don't have to be anywhere else, well, that's as close to ideal as life can get for me.

It so happens that I found myself at home this past weekend, with a luscious bowl of cherries, which are in season now, time on my hands, and the promise of a summer shower later in the day . . . the perfect time to do a little baking.

I've underestimated cherries most of my life.  At first, I used to know them only as the “red fruit” in a can of Libby's Fruit Cocktail, or as the nauseatingly sweet syrup in cough medicine.  Then, one day, I was introduced to “real” cherries in a freshly baked Black Forest cake, while attending a dinner-theatre performance of Cabaret.  When the Master of Ceremonies began singing “Willkomen, Bienvenue, Welcome . . . ”  I felt like it should have been me singing!  They were superb!  The show was pretty good, too.  And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

If you are planning to experiment with fresh cherries, you'll need a cherry pitter.  It's a little tool that removes the pit from the cherry quickly and efficiently.  It was also fun to use.  I see a lot of cherry desserts in my future (cherry pie comes to mind right away, but we'll leave that for another post.)  The one in the picture above is from Williams-Sonoma.  I'm told that it's also good for pitting olives.  How about that?  I can play with olives, too!

The bread turned out delicious!  The cherry and almond flavors complement each other beautifully, and it was very moist.  This one is a keeper.  Here's the recipe:

Ingredients:

1½ cup all-purpose flour

¾ cup granulated sugar

½ teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 cup sweet cherries, pitted and coarsely chopped

1/3 cup vegetable oil

1 large egg

½ milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1½ teaspoons almond extract

1.  Preheat oven to 350º F.  Grease and flour a 8" x 4" loaf pan.  Set aside.

2.  In a small bowl combine the flour, salt, baking powder and sugar.  Gently fold in the cherries, and mix until well coated.

3.  In a separate bowl combine the remaining ingredients and lightly beat with a fork until blended.

4.  Add the wet ingredients to the dry, stirring until just moistened.  Pour batter into pan and bake for 35 to 40 minutes or until toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

5.  Remove from oven, let cool 5 minutes in loaf pan, then invert into serving platter and allow bread to cool completely.  Wrap in plastic wrap until ready to serve.

“Life is just a bowl of cherries, don't take it serious, it's mysterious.  Life is just a bowl of cherries, so live and laugh, and laugh at love, love a laugh, laugh and love.”  —Bob Fosse

Work Life Balance: It's mostly work for now

I have gotten a promotion at work, and have moved to a new role and a new location within the company. Here I am, with both, my old and new bosses, and all our spouses, celebrating the new journey!  The moment is bittersweet, I'm going to miss my wonderful old boss . . .

My new official photo for the announcement . . .

I've also decided to go back and finish my Master's degree . . .  It's going to take me a long while, since I'll be going to school part-time only.  I'll probably be ready for retirement by the time I finish . . .

I was also selected to participate in this year's leadership development program for high-potential employees. The company is sending me to Atlanta in a couple of weeks for the kick-off.  

It's all work work work for the next while, but I'm very excited.  The head of my new department is a true leader, with a huge vision, and unimpeachable integrity, and my new direct boss is bringing a lot of ideas and energy to our team.  It's going to be a fabulous ride!

After becoming an empty nester, I'm finally catching my second wind!  Wish me luck.

A Tiffany Surprise!

Every woman, at least once in her life, ought to receive a gift from Tiffany's . . .

This one came directly to my office, sent by a thoughtful business acquaintance . . . Nice, huh?  My afternoon tea has just been elevated to a whole new level.  Now, what should I do with that lovely box?

A St. Patrick's Celebration

I'm not quite sure how it's come about that our family, who has barely a drop of Irish blood, ends up celebrating St. Patrick's Day every year . . .

Our celebration this year began in downtown Chicago, early last Saturday morning, where we went to see the annual dying green of the Chicago River . . .

A boat, manned by a small crew dumps about 40 pounds of a harmless vegetable dye into the river, turning its waters a bright green for a few hours . . .  Do you notice the brave little ducks trying to stay out of the path of the boat?  This article explains how Chicago's quirky tradition came about . . .

My husband is the guest photographer for all of the pictures taken downtown, since he has a shiny new smart phone with a cool new camera that he wanted to try out . . .

Me, I usually get so caught up in whatever is happening that I forget to take pictures . . .

We found a nice spot to watch on the Riverwalk, right across from Trump Tower, the skyscraper that has given so many Chicagoans heartburn because of its 20-foot-high Trump sign, which is seen as brash and tasteless . . .

Mr. Trump does seem to have a way of antagonizing folks . . .

The people watching was . . . marvelous . . .

The dyeing of the river was followed by the St. Patrick's Day parade . . .

But it was crowded, with so many young people walking in packs, and drinking, I felt like I was at Daytona Beach during Spring break . . .  

Even though we only stayed for a few minutes of the parade, by the time we got home our day was pretty much gone.  Chicago is always fun, but with a crowd like this, everything moves slowly.  We got home and collapsed on the couch and you wouldn't have been able to budge us if you tried . . . And I had to conserve my energy for our St. Pat's dinner party the following night . . .

Now THIS way of celebrating is more my style!  I really, really love my florist, Robert . . . He's made so many beautiful arrangements for me over the years, that I've lost count . . .

With minimal instructions from me via e-mail, this is what he managed to put together:  Three baskets that held white daisies, lime green button pom poms, white limonium, white wax berries, minty green carnations . . .

And, Bells of Ireland spikes gave the arrangements some height . . .

Robert placed the arrangements in brown rattan baskets, and that became the inspiration for the rest of the table . . .

I used my Spode Delamere Brown . . .  Somehow, this pattern feels right at home whether I dress it up or down, and seemed to get along very nicely with the rustic rattan baskets . . .

The napkins were an Etsy find.  I alternated the two designs throughout the table . . .

Each place setting included an individual butter dish that held delicious Kerrygold Irish butter to spread on Irish Soda bread . . . St. Patrick's Day is the best excuse ever for eating Irish Soda Bread . . .

And a great opportunity to bring out my Laguiole spreaders with the cute little bee on the handles . . .

The hurricane lantern votive holders added a touch more green . . .

Then I scattered some lucky charms on the table . . .

To hopefully lead us to the end of a rainbow, so we could find a pot o' gold!

These brownies with mocha cream frosting and chocolate chips would do very nicely for those who preferred chocolate to a pot o' gold . . . Especially when served with mint chocolate chip ice cream on the side . . .  After they finished their corned beef and cabbage, of course . . .

It was all so much fun, we were all happy to pretend being Irish for a little while! Éire go Brách!

Joining Susan at Between Naps on the Porch for Tablescape Thursday.  Please stop by!

Gondola amore!

From the moment you step into the Alilaguna waterbus at the airport, you begin to spot them . . .

They can be found clustered in front of old palaces . . .

Gliding quietly down narrow canals . . .

Early in the morning . . .

When restaurants haven't even opened yet . . .

And late at night, when the water looks inky black, and you feel you've stepped back in time . . .

Out on the Canal Grande, competing for navigable space with water buses and power boats, while the winged lion, symbol of Venice, keeps watch over it all . . .

Trying to stay relevant in a city that today is largely a living museum . . .

You can spot them from the Bridge of Sighs - the bridge connecting the Ducal Palace to the Prisons.  I can easily imagine a gondola being the last thing a condemned prisoner might see as he crossed the bridge towards his incarceration . . .

How brave these gondolieri are, fighting for survival, physical and metaphorical, in the 21st century!

Some long-ago doge (reigning duke) decreed that all gondole should be black to eliminate unseemly competition for the fanciest rig . . .  (Notice the plural form of gondola is gondole, NOT gondolas, as it was emphatically, albeit politely, pointed out to me by a native) . . .

At one time, there were 10,000 gondole in the Venetian lagoon.  Today, there are roughly 500 of them left, all catering to the tourist industry . . .

And, yes, it was expensive and a bit of a cliché, but how could we NOT indulge in a romantic ride?  Our 4th generation gondoliere sang in a desultory fashion, more to himself than to us, while he steered us through quiet rii (small canals), and onto the Canal Grande . . .

Never ask a gondoliere to sing “O Sole Mio” - that's a Neapolitan song!  That travesty occurs at The Venetian, in Las Vegas!  But, to paraphrase the popular saying:  What happens in Vegas, most definitely ought to stay in Vegas . . .  Click here to hear a charming Venetian folk song . . .

I brought home this bit of lace - made in the island of Burano; and, just recently, had it mounted and framed . . .

The silk backing is Venetian Blue (I kid you NOT!). The gilded frame reminds me of the waves in the Venetian lagoon.  Ah, the romance of Venice has come home with me . . .