Past Blogs

I’ve only wanted to attack my husband once in 47 years. Forty years ago on a summer day that was 98 degrees with 2 million per cent humidity, he came home from his air-conditioned office and said, “Isn’t it a wonderful temperature?”

I was near death from heat exhaustion with two young children in a non-air-conditioned house. My brain reeled: how could my best friend say this to me?

Fortunately, I didn’t throw anything or start yelling. I just said, “You have to be kidding, no one can possibly like being smothered in a steaming blanket”.

Thanks to the fact that we know how to communicate with each other, it turns out he wasn’t kidding at all. Impossible as it seems to me, my guy truly loves high heat and humidity. Put him in New Orleans on an August day and he would be a happy camper. I would expire.

I agree with Georgia Bottoms in that wonderful book by Mark Childress of that name. She says, “The only way to survive summer in Alabama is to sit down sometime in April and hold still until October. Or get out of Alabama entirely. Or follow the rest of the south into the embrace of the one true religion-A/C …”.

Wisconsin isn’t Alabama, but we do get several disabling heat spells every summer. The only thing I can do is not move. For someone who usually can outlast the Energizer Bunny, I find this difficult. But it’s more difficult to try to push my body through a wall of wet, hot air.

So I get to be a Southerner for about ten days each summer. Porches, immobility, wine coolers, cold boiled shrimp and a great book aren’t all that bad.

Marilyn Monroe in “The Seven Year Itch” gave some excellent heat wave advice as well.  …keep your undies and champagne in the refrigerator.

Click here to see the original movie scene “Undies in the Icebox”.

It’s outdoor grilling season, and we won’t. We do love grilled fish, sweet corn and veggie skewers. You don’t have to be a red meat lover to be a griller. Why, I ask myself, do we not grill? It’s irrational, but I will try to rationalize the irrationality.

Three reasons present themselves:

1. Flames- In the olden days, grilling involved evil charcoal starter, open flames and a rickety, little assemble-it-yourself BBQ grill. In other words, an open invitation to conflagration.

2. Dollars- Grills aren’t little anymore. In fact, they are about the size of a walk-in closet. They also cost the equivalent of a round-trip plane ticket to Paris. I’d prefer the ticket.

3. Expertise- Guys grill. My guy, although brilliant, handy and wonderful, is not a cook. He would probably think he had made us Cajun blackened fish until he took the first bite. I’m useless as I am afraid of hot surfaces that sizzle.

So I don’t believe a grill is in our future. Perhaps I will follow my dad’s example. He was extremely poor as a child, but he had life long happy memories of building bonfires in a vacant lot and baking potatoes in the embers. We could substitute the beach for the vacant lot.

I did not buy the zucchinis. Fleet Farm had a 2 for 1 sale on seedlings in little peat pots, and the mini zucchini plants looked particularly robust. I was momentarily tempted, but I demurred.

The world is divided between those who blithely plant zucchinis and those who graciously adopt the zucchinis that the other folks grow. Since I am in the second group, I can’t upset the delicate balance by jumping sides. If I did, I would be riddled with guilt when the world sagged under mountains of uneaten, rotting zucchinis.

No one would describe zucchinis as a stand alone vegetable. They need a large cast of charismatic supporting characters such as butter, olive oil, basil, tomatoes, onions and peppers. Large quantities of sugar and spice are necessary if the squash is turned into bread.

In response to a large influx of zucchini gifts one summer, I devised an entree which we call “Pasta, Z and Cheese”. Like all casseroles, ingredients and quantities can be tinkered with extensively. The basic game plan follows:

• 12 ounces of pasta, such as shells or penne
• 2 or 3 medium zucchini cut into cubes
• 1 green pepper, diced
• 1 small onion,diced
• 1 cup grated sharp cheddar cheese
• 3 ounces blue cheese crumbles ( If you hate blue cheese, use an Italian hard cheese.)
• 24 ounces tomato sauce
• Basil, salt and pepper to taste

Cook the pasta until al dente. Cook the vegetables until barely tender remembering that zucchini quickly turns to mush. Mix all ingredients together and spoon into casserole dishes. Sprinkle with dried bread crumbs. At this point, freeze what you want for later and microwave or bake what you want for dinner. Since I don’t own a microwave, I’m sure you will figure out the time better than I. Bake at 375 degrees for 20 minutes in a conventional oven.

One zucchini recipe is not nearly enough to handle  late summer’s zucchini gifts.  I recently read that weird ice cream flavors such as Maple-Bacon, Black Pepper, Bubblegum with Beet Juice and Black Sesame Seaweed are the rage in New York this summer. When the tide of zucchinis washes in this August, perhaps I can whip up a nice batch of Lime-Zucchini ice cream. It’s worth a try.

I believe that the perfect celebration of the Fourth of July would be a nationwide series of tea parties. I am not referring to the far right political party but the genuine item, a tea party with a pot of tea (hot or iced), triangles of cucumber sandwiches, fresh strawberries and bite sized sweets.

America is in desperate need of reeducation in civility, and nothing is more civilizing than a lovely tea party.

I’ve had many tea parties for the younger members in our family, and I’ve enjoyed every one immensely. But tea party etiquette must be carefully explained beforehand:

• No shouting
• Lots of  “please” and “thank yous” as in ” Would you please pass the petit fours?”
• Happy, interesting conversation with everyone having equal opportunities to speak

After these ground rules are established, it is not necessary to say, “no bullying or name calling”. It’s obvious.

Our tea parties often are  held in the small woods next to our house, and we sit on a blanket spread out over the pine needles. We have been so successful at tea party manners that chipmunks have run over our blanket and birds have flown close by. Loud, squabbling children would never have the privilege of having animal guests.

Respect for and delight in others, awareness of our surroundings and enjoyment of good food adds up to a gracious experience for everyone.

It’s time to get out the teapot and think of someone other than ourselves. That used to be the American way and was referred to as “the common good”. I long for its return.

Only the French could have created something as marvelous as Diner en Blanc, The White Dinner. This event is an annual, invitation only, secret dinner party where the white clad guests gather at a different outdoor, public space such as The Arc de Triomphe, The Invalides or The Tuileries.

On the evening of June 16th, 2011, 8,000 Parisians filled with joyeux de vivre flocked to the Cour Carree du Louvre. A second location was added this year, and thousands more set up in front of Notre Dame Cathedral. No one knew where they were headed until 30 minutes before the event.

Those with the right social connections receive an email or call informing them of the date of the event a few days ahead of the party. They are instructed to be prepared with white clothes (hats are recommended for women), folding chairs and tables, china and stemware, a picnic in a basket and champagne.

On the night of the event, guests get a message directing them to a pre-dinner meeting site. Here they board buses which ferry them to the surprise destination. Because the organizers wish to keep the party spontaneous, no police permission is requested to use the space. Don’t contemplate what would happen in America if 10,000 people with wine bottles showed up at a moment’s notice to have a party in a public park or street!

Arriving at the destination, the guests quickly set up tables, cover them with white clothes, white flowers, white candles, china and glassware. Corks pop, elegant picnics are taken out of picnic baskets and laughter fills the air. The global economy might be collapsing around them, but the French still know the art of living well.

The start can be traced to the 1980’s, and theories on its origins abound. One version is that a French gentleman invited a few friends to The Bois de Boulogne one day in June. He asked them to wear white so they could find each other in the park. The dinner was a success so they decided to ask other friends and repeat the event the following year. The annual growth rate has been exponential.

Whatever or whoever is behind Diner en Blanc, I would love an invitation. If only I were connected.

If you can spare a few minutes, this YouTube clip puts you on the scene.