Sitting and watching

I've been trying to slow down these days. And I've also been trying to ramp things up. Mostly I've been trying, trying, to keep things running.

A long time ago I was given the gift of an astrology reading. The main message I got, and that stays with me still, was that my task this time around was to experience as much as possible and to stay calm while doing it. Easier said than done, to be sure.

This picture is the dish of water I have outside my front door. It's a water source for my bees. Who knew? Bees need a drinking fountain. So do my cat and dog. Frequently they all three drink, all at the same time. One of my favorite things to do is to come home and sit on my front step. I'm right next to this beautiful blue water dish and the bees come and go, drinking, flying in, flying out, drinking more. The cat and dog drink too, and then, generally, lie at my feet. I like being there. Very much. Every once in awhile I find a bee floundering in the water. Bees do not swim, so, if I'm there, I help out, ushering the little girl (almost all the bees out flying around are females) over to the edge where she climbs out, dries off, and carries on. Every once in a while the dog or the cat or, perhaps, a bee will knock over this little stack of pebbles. I put it back. Carry on.

Things have felt frantic to me lately and I have been searching for how to find equipoise, balance. Acupuncture is helping. Talking with friends is helping. Pilates, bike riding, dinner in front of stupid tv, and walking my dog all help too.

At work I fired a chef, rolled up my sleeves and got back in the kitchen, found a new chef, am training him, and am dealing, concurrently, with some other stresses. Business ownership is like this. One of my mentors said, "Getting bigger doesn't mean you get rid of the problems, you just get bigger ones." There are plenty of days when I don't want anything to do with any problems.

On those days I just go out onto my step, restack my little pebble stack, maybe rescue a bee, and, mostly sit still.

The Goldenrod is in full bloom now and the bees love it. Apparently Goldenrod makes stinky honey, but honey is honey at this point in the year. The bees are stocking up for the winter and it doesn't matter to me what kind of honey they make, as long as it helps them get through the upcoming cold months. One of my friends never opened her bee hives, never took out any honey, was happy when her bees swarmed and left. To her that was all a part of the natural order of things.

Perhaps that's what all this is, this tumult, stress, relaxation, calm, frenzy. The natural order. Is it possible to adjust and roll with it? Is it possible to remember that this is exactly what I am supposed to be? Continued immersion into the fray, continued practice at staying calm, attentive, alert.

Maybe it's enough just to sit and watch and restack some random pebbles and save a floundering bee every now and then. On many days it's enough for me.

It's tomato time!!

Yessiree! Tomatoes abound, fill our lives, fill our deli case, fill our hearts.

These are one day's haul from my tiny collection of plants at my house. I bought a handful of cherry tomato plants and stuck them in the ground around my garden guardian. She quickly was overtaken by the greenery and now is covered with bowls full of these bright beauties. For awhile I ate a bowl full with pasta or on a salad or simply right out of the bowl. But I have finally slowed down and have been hauling them in to work where I deposit them on an unsuspecting coworker's desk. Yesterday I took a BIG bowl full of them to Jubilee and tucked them into a nook on the altar. During the sharing of the peace we ate them.

This month is the offical month to celebrate the tomato in Asheville. Our local group, Appalachian Sustainable Agriculture Projects does a promotion of a specific product each month. Now is tomato time. And someone, perhaps someone from ASAP came up with the very smart idea to have a Tomato Walk. A bunch of us Independent Restaurateurs will feature this beauty during a 2 hour Tomato Happy hour.

We'll have Foccacia slices with heirloom cherry tomatoes; Gazpacho; Heirloom Tomato salad; Pasta Salad with Cherry tomatoes; beer specials; and a whole lot more.
Stroll on by this Thursday (the 20th) between 5 and 7. Nice!

And if you can't make it during that time, fear not - we're well-stocked with tomatoes of all kinds. And will continue to do so.

In other news:
We've been enjoying being open later. Do feel free to come by in the evenings as we're now staying open until 8, Monday through Friday. You can have your dinner to go right here (which makes it dinner to stay) or you can browse our deli case for evening offerings that are the result of the mood of our cooks and the mood of the day and the mood of the weather.

And yes we have beer. And wine.

Oh - and finally, our Farmer's Dinners are gaining in popularity. Put September 17th on your calendar. We'll have three of our farmer friends join us for an evening of Dinner and Conversation. I cook. They talk. You eat. Sound fun? We think so. Reservations are required for these. 828-252-1500.

See you then if not sooner.

Zippy offerings

This is a snap of our deli case. If you haven't been to see us recently, well, this might tempt you to make haste to do so.

It's a fine time in our local fields. The farmers are calling us every day, bringing us their bounty, filling our refrigerators and shelves with the most wonderful produce. I'm back in the kitchen these days and there really is nothing I like better than to putter around, poking into all the boxes and seeing what we have. I'm big on bright colors and so I am particularly happy right now. Heirloom tomatoes are here. Sun Golds. On it goes.

And, did you know we are now open later in the evenings during the week? Yup! You can now come, browse through our offerings, and make yourself comfortable in our airy cafe. We'll leave you alone to enjoy your dinner.

I'd say that's a pretty nice thing.

OH! Before I forget!! We're now having a monthly dinner with some of our local farmers. These are called, DRUM ROLL!!!, "Dinner with our Farmers." (Smart title, don't you think?) You come, dine with new friends and with some of our farmers, and get to hear, first hand, how and why they do what they do.

The August one is scheduled for the 13th. Call my Wednesday if you'd like to join in. 828-252-1500. (The September one will be on the 15th.)

A note from Laurey

It is the eve of August as I write. The tailgate market is in full swing across the street from here. Tables are loaded with beautiful purple eggplants, gorgeous thin green beans, brilliantly wild-colored tomatoes of all kinds (including Mr. Stripey!!) and a whole lot more. I love Wednesday afternoons here, as I can leave my office, stroll across the street, browse through the tents and tables and bins of this and that. I feel filled with the bounty these farmers bring every week.

A long time ago I was given a very special gift of two weeks in Provence. I got to pick where we went, and I got to pick what we did. My pick for the entire time was to follow the markets. In Provence there is a market almost every day. We drove to tomorrow’s market town in the afternoon, found a place to stay and scoped out the lay of the land. Then, first thing the next morning we were up and at the market in time to stroll and watch the vendors as they set up. We’d buy a pastry, some fruit, a caffe au lait, and we’d find a place to sit – on a stone wall, perhaps.

After coffee we’d stroll more, taste cheeses, buy things for an afternoon snack, find a place for a nap, and then we’d wander back to our car. We might then stay the night or we might drive to the next town on my list. I loved those markets, that produce, that bounty.

It was a wonderful trip, quite a gift, indeed.

I loved being in France. Don’t get me wrong. But it fills me with delight these days to do a local version of those days. I get up early on Saturdays, visit one or two markets. On Wednesdays I visit the one across the street. I find myself standing, musing, imagining, dreaming. The market swirls around me. And then someone might say my name and I pop out – here in Asheville, not in Nyons or Gordes or St. Remy.

The market scene here is pretty good around here. For a town of this size, there are a lot of options. Last week, for grins, I went to three brand new markets. Imagine!

I’ll be cooking at the market across the street from here on August 5th. I’ll be at the North Asheville one in September. And I’m committed to the dinners with the farmers, as you see (the August one is on the 13th, the September one is on the 17th.)

After work I go home and stroll through my tomatoes which are bountiful right now. I have not planted anything else edible but I cannot live without a handful of cherry tomatoes – as often as possible. These days there are plenty for me to have.

August is tomato month. Asheville is a market town. Life is full and good. Hooray!

Jam Babes - a tale

July 17, 2009

Friday. Busy day for LCM (me). Whoosh. I’m trying to get a step ahead and so am writing my next week’s note today. Tomorrow I will be in a meeting for the entire day (I’m joining the board of the North Carolina Outward Bound School and will be away from the internet and will not be able to write tomorrow anyway.)

I thought you might like to know about yesterday’s jam production. As it was unfolding I thought that if I imagined WRITING about it, it might be a bit less frustrating than it was feeling as it was happening. Let’s see how it goes.

My mother made Blueberry Jam every year. We lived on Blueberry Hill, after all, so it was a logical thing to do. My sisters and I picked the berries, sold them to my mother, who insisted there be no stems or leaves. She made them into jam which she packed in little round jars. We stuck the label on the jars and stacked them on a table in our living room next to stacks of my mother’s cook books and the postcards that my sisters and I made. I also made potholders and sold them. In the fall I picked apples from our apple trees and sold them to guests who were completely capable of going and picking their own. Hmm – I guess it’s safe to say that I have been in the selling business for quite some time.

I make jam each year. It brings me, in a quiet way, close to my mother. I always think of her and then when I make my jam. I have found those same jars. I follow my memory of her jam as I make mine now. Hers was not very sweet. Mine isn’t either. Her label was a solid color with simple print. Mine too. Making jam is usually a meditation for me. A reverie. A time to reflect. That’s how it usually is. Yesterday was not quite a meditation.

I don’t have time to pick berries now but I found a good source and saved the morning yesterday to make my jam. I reserved the local commercial (BIG) kitchen. I cleared my schedule. All good. Annie is here visiting and stepped up to be an associate “Jam Babe.” We got to work really early, loaded up the car and headed out to the jam making place.

We arrived ahead of the facility coordinator and that was a bit frustrating. Standing in a parking lot wanting to get it. Wanting to get going. Not able to. Ugh.

After not TOO long, in the big scheme of things, we did get in. Unpacked. Got a review of how to operate the machinery, and got going.

The berries, much to my annoyance, had more stems than I would have liked (my mother, as I said, did not allow ANY stems in the berries we picked and I’m a stickler for this.) Annie and I spent quite a while de-stemming berries. Ugh.

“Okay, don’t let it ruin your day!” I heard in my mind. That is what Emily, here in the office, tells me. I kept telling that to myself.

We finally went through all the berries and loaded up the big steam cooker and got the jam cooking. We got the jars unpacked and set up in the washing area. We got the lids ready. We got ourselves ready. We got everything in place. We calibrated the jar filler – with water. All good!

But when I went to get the first (the FIRST!) batch of hot jam, it splooshed out all over me and burned the HECK out of my arm! UGH!!!

“Don’t let it ruin your day!”
Right.
I got some ice. Arranged an portable ice bath for my arm.
Filled the jar filler.
Kept going.

Calibrating a jar filler with water is one thing but calibrating it with jam is a whole other situation. You fill this gigantic funnel. You turn the machine on. You see how full the jar is. Finding it not quite right, you adjust two screws. You turn the machine on again. You fill another jar. You see how your adjustment worked. You might need to turn those two screws again. You generally have to do this four or five times before you get it. All with boiling hot jam.

And then there is the matter of coordinating the actions of two people, hot jam, a filling machine, hot lids. A burned arm. Sigh. Annie was great, jumping in like a pro (she IS a cook too, so she fit right in and we were able to work smoothly.)

Once we got started we developed a rhythm. Scoop the hot berries out of the gigantic steam kettle. Fill the gigantic funnel. Get hot jars. Get hot lids. Fill the jars. Put the lids on. Repeat.

Four hours later we had made 288 jars of jam. I was, by then, pretty much covered in blueberry spatter. My face was a blue freckled mess. My shoes were blue. My shirt was spattered with blue. I was sticky. Hot. Annie fared better but she had a lot of blue splots too.

My mother hired off duty Airforce employees to make 25,000 jars of jam each summer. She took herself away from Blueberry Hill and spent the week on Cape Cod. Annie and I made 288 jars of jam. In four hours. And then I came back to work and got ready for our Farmer’s dinner (which was a lot of fun by the way.) My arm still stings but is getting better (try putting honey on a burn – it does a wonderful job.)

And now I’m off to help with Outward Bound. Jam will be available here pretty soon. As soon as I get time to print some labels. Watch for it in our shop area. It’s REALLY good. And if you ask nicely, I’ll show you my arm.

Whee!

We're now open until 8, Monday through Friday (unless we have a private party here.)

Downtown on a summer night is so nice. There are gallery strolls to enjoy, street performers, warm skies, not to mention interesting people to watch. The Orange Peel is right down the street from us. The Fine Arts Theater is just one block away on the other side. Come a bit early and stop in with us to have a simple supper.

We've got lots of thoughts for our future and will introduce them over time. Music nights. Game nights. Dance nights. House concerts. Book club gatherings. Drop by to see what we have up our sleeve these days.

And - here's this week's note from my weekly newsletter. Enjoy!

July 4, 2009

These marker dates really point out the flying by that time is doing these days. It really, honestly, seems like just a month ago – at the most – when I was talking about fireworks and swimming and summer frolic on the Fourth. And look at this – an entire year has gone by. Again.

Zoom.

I’m headed to Washington, DC at the beginning of the week. I’m going there to speak at the 12th Annual Ovarian Cancer National Alliance’s conference. I’m the closing speaker, finishing out the conference on the 8th. Then I’ll drive back on the 9th, just in time for the lobster feast on the 10th.

Zoom zoom.

I’ve entered the next stage of the bike ride experience. After musing and wallowing and contemplating, I am finally at a point where I can see things a little bit more clearly and am beginning to be able to have some perspective on the whole ride experience. I’ll be addressing cancer survivors at the Washington event. In September I’ll be speaking at the Culinary Institute of America in New York, addressing young chefs, talking about the ride, spreading the word. I also just got to be the guest DJ on “Local Color”, Laura Blackley’s show on WNCW-FM, talking about the ride, sharing my favorite music, spreading the word. And I will be in Michigan in December, speaking to some business colleagues about the ride. These engagements begin to help me believe that my ride can have a lasting impact. And that makes me feel good.

In the meantime, my nephew is about to turn 3 on the 4th. My friend’s eldest child is about to turn 8, also on the 4th. I have been a part of these two lives since they started. And a close friend of mine turns 61 on the 9th. She has been a part of my life since the beginning of my time here in Asheville. Cooking for her was the beginning of my food life here. I cooked that meal 21 years ago.

Zoom zoom. Zoom.

Do enjoy your weekend. I’ll be sure to drive carefully and will look forward to telling you all about it when I get back.

Thoughts of the day

June 13, 2009

Hello to you all. It is no longer morning. I’ve been writing, meeting, planning, conversing, thinking, and, well, NOT finishing this note. Sorry.

The week was a good one. Filled with inspiration, both quietly small and quietly large. I met with two different folks to talk about writing. I appeared on the radio to talk, very candidly, about ovarian cancer. I heard Anna Quindlen, a gigantic presence in the world of writing, speak about her life. And I finished the video of my ride.

I’ve been really pondering the whole experience of this ride, as you know. The first question most people ask is, “Now What?” I’ve stuttered something in response, not very clearly at first, but now, increasingly, with a bit more conviction.

First I’ve been trying to just get home. This has been harder than I could have ever imagined. I did the ride. I came home. And all I could do was miss that whole experience. But I AM home and I WANT to be home and I don’t want to be living a life that is all about missing something that is not here. And finally I feel like I AM home.

It helps to be listening to so many people who say that a book would be a nice next step. I’ve been talking to and writing to people and a picture is beginning to emerge. An idea of how to take what I did and turn it into something else.

It helped, even though it was very hard, to talk openly on the radio. We are filled with subjects that people do not talk about. I, truthfully, would rather not be the one who steps out. Because stepping out means taking a big chance. Stepping out on a thin limb. That might break. And then where would I be? But in the days after the broadcast I heard from a number of listeners who thanked me and told me I’d done well. Which made me feel that the stepping out on that thin limb was a good thing.

It helped to hear Anna Quindlen. She’s one of my writing heroes. Her clear, honest, straightforward writing has always caught my attention. I got to meet her, briefly, and share, briefly, my ride story, especially that I did the ride to raise awareness for ovarian cancer. Her mother died of it and that made me feel a special closeness with her, even if she had no idea who I was. Thinking about that connection and about the poignancy of it all completely overcame me as I listened to her. And that powerful emotional response pushes me ahead, pushes me to continue trying to figure out my own “What’s next?”

It helps, finally, to have this video done. I am excited about being the closing speaker at a national conference. It’s a big subject, this ovarian cancer one. I spoke for two minutes at a dinner for these folks in February. Now I get a half hour, give or take. I’ll finish my time with this video. It’s upbeat but it conveys the “don’t give up” feeling that was the big message for me on this ride. I’ve watched it a whole lot and I still like it and that is a fine thing. John Warner is the fellow who took my wishes and turned them into this finished piece. After the showing in Washington I’ll make it possible for you to see it too.

One more thing about being home. I loved the dinner with the farmers the other night. I love being part of the connection with them. I am deeply honored to have anything to do with making this sort of a difference. And no matter what, no matter how tough things are, these folks are caring for our Earth in a big way. And we get to be a part of that thin, Golden Thread of keeping things going.

Which is the most important thing of all.