Everyone invites friends over to share a pizza and then play cards or watch "the game"; but I am referring to a (traditional) dinner party. You know, where you cook your fanciest food in the hopes of making an impression and then you and your friends sit around the table for hours talking and eating and drinking wine (or whatever drink you enjoy).
I think I was seventeen years old when I hosted my very first dinner party. It was part of a Grade Twelve Home Economics assignment, and I cooked a lasagna dinner with homemade bread and salad for a group of my girlfriends. No wine, though. I set the table with my Mom's "good" dishes and laboured all day to make the perfect lasagna. I had actually been making lasagna for four or five years by that point, so it was not a challenging dish to create ... I must have gone for the sure thing instead of experimenting. Which is definitely not like me in the kitchen.
And, if you must know, I received the Home Ec Award that year for the highest grade in the class. I wanted to die a thousand deaths ... my friends received the Math Award and the English Award. Not me ... I was awarded as a home maker. Ugh.
But I do LOVE dinner parties ... always have. I chose to linger around the table with the adults after Thanksgiving dinner or at Christmas time, instead of playing "run-around-the-house" with the other kids. I enjoy the conversation of a dinner party and I appreciate the food. And I appreciate the tradition. It seems to me that dinner parties were fashionable long before my time ... the dinner parties of the elite in the '30s and '40s or the fondue parties of the '60s. I am told that my grandparents threw wonderful dinner parties ... of course, my Grama was a party girl and my Grampa was in the entertainment business (as a young man), so I guess it shouldn't be a surprise that they could throw one heck of a dinner party!
I have heard that some couples like to gather for a dinner party a few times each year, using the LCBO's Food & Drink magazine as inspiration. That would be a fun idea ...
Recently I hosted a dinner party. Actually it was a tapas party, which is a great way to spend a night around the table eating and perhaps, having a drink or two.
What is a tapas party, you ask? Maybe the best way to describe what tapas is, is to tell you what it is not.
Tapas is not a particular type of food. Although it originated in Spain, tapas has more to do with the size of the portion and manner in which it is served.
Tapas is not an appetizer. If you begin your evening eating tapas, you eat tapas until you are full. The end.
Tapas is not a collection of different dishes brought out to a table for consumption as a main course meal. This would be a buffet ... and tapas is NOT a buffet.
I guess, tapas is a very small plate of food served with your drink. In Spain, tapas may be taken as a lunch; or, more commonly, tapas are enjoyed after work with friends at the local eatery/bar. Tapas are enjoyed by the young and the old and if you really know what you are doing, you will hop from one bar to the next enjoying a tapas and a drink at each one. Someone may order olives as their tapas ... because they really love olives. Or maybe it goes great with their martini. Someone else may order Gazpacho. Then, while you enjoy your olives and I enjoy my Gazpacho, we both enjoy our cocktails and our conversation. Then, when we finish, we move on to the next establishment. As much as tapas is about the food and the drinks, it is also about the socializing.
Yes, I think I could easily live in Spain.
My Mom celebrated her 60-something birthday earlier this month, and I hosted a tapas party for her. I made six courses of Spanish food ... and it was delicious, if I do say so myself. Plus, it was super fun!
Here is something I bet you did not know ... Pina Colada's originated in Spain. Ha! I had no idea; I always thought they were from the Tropics! So, we started out party with Pina Coladas made from fresh, frozen pineapple and banana mixed with pineapple juice and coconut milk ... virgin for the kids, alcoholic for the adults.
The first course consisted of one half of a tomato (salted, then refrigerated for a couple of hours), seranno ham, and grilled bread. Spanish tapas consists of simple, high-quality food.
Next, it was romaine salad with Blue Cheese dressing. Just quarter romaine hearts and drizzle with Blue Cheese dressing ... it doesn't get any easier than that! Plus, I totally cheated and used dressing from a jar ... you're suppose to use real blue cheese.
For the third course, I served a plate with sausage, Monchego cheese, gerkin pickles, sardines and more bread plus red wine. Then I allowed everyone to choose what they wanted. This goes against the rules of tapas parties, however I am dealing with young children and women who don't particularly enjoy stinky fish. But the Spanish people do, so I included it and allowed everyone to make their own decisions. Caiden loves sardines, by the way ... he will eat a whole tin for lunch!!!
Imagine a photo of a glass plate, cleverly styled to display (stinky) tiny fishes, gerkin pickles, thin slices of Manchego, and sausage circles along side a bottle of Spanish red wine ... guess I had too much Pina Colada 'cause I forgot to take a photo!!
Next ,was a roasted beet salad with fennel slaw ... I could eat beets a thousand different ways and never get sick of them!
Finally, I made paella. Again, I veered from the traditional and served it from a large platter on the table because everyone was getting very full. It seemed appropriate for everyone to help themselves, instead of me trying to guage how hungry each person was. However, had I served it traditional tapas-style, I would have offered each person one drumstick and a very large scoop of rice.
And finally, for dessert, I made a Rice Pudding Creme Brulee ... which I have nicknamed "A Small Piece of Creamy Heaven." It is slightly lemony and creamy and oh sooooo good. Plus, the pudding warmed slightly from torching the sugar.
All my tapas recipe ideas came from a book I bought a couple of years ago when I (first) hosted a tapas party for some friends. It is called cesar, Recipes from a Tapas Bar. The beginning of the book details the authors' trials and tribulations of constructing their tapas bar in Berkeley, California followed by a lengthy section on cocktails, and finally the recipes they use at their restaurant. This is a wonderful book with great photos and some fabulous ideas for entertaining. You could host a tapas party and ask each guest to bring a tapas dish to share, along with a cocktail to compliment the dish. When I hosted my tapas party, I included a note explaining what "tapas" is and suggested websites for ideas.
Because I am such a good friend, I am going to take my chances and hope that the owner of cesar doesn't mind that I share their recipe for Rice Pudding Creme Brulee ... but I warn you, use it with caution. Once you make it, you will just want more ...
Rice Pudding (taken from cesar: Recipes from a Tapas Bar, 2003)
1 3/4 cups whole milk 1 cinnamon stick Zest of 1 lemon 1/4 cup short-grain rice (I used arborio rice) 3/4 cup sugar 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 2 tablespoons anise liqueur, such as Pernod (I left this out because I didn't have any)
In a large saucepan, heat the milk, cinnamon stick, and zest over low heat. When hot, add the rice and cook over low heat for 40 minutes, stirring frequently with a wooden spoon. Turn up the heat to medium and simmer until all the rice has puffed up and the milk has thickened, about 10 minutes more. Keep a close watch at this stage, and stir often. Add 1/2 cup of the sugar and the butter and cook for another 10 minutes. Add the liqueur, stir to incorporate, and divide among six 6-ounce ramekins. Let cool, cover and refrigerate until well chilled, or for up to 24-hours.
Just before serving, sprinkle the tops evenly with the remaining 1/4 cup sugar. Slip under a preheated broiler until the sugar caramelizes into a nice even golden brown; or caramelize with a kitchen torch. Serve immediately.
(Note: I doubled the recipe and made 8 hefty portions ... which was perfect!)
I was shopping at a very large retail grocery store over this past weekend. I walked through the Produce Section and felt a little sick to my stomach.
Remember when you used to be able to touch the fruits and vegetables? There were no styrofoam trays or paper bags or plastic wrap. As I looked down a row of coolers, I noticed that everything was in packages ... the broccoli has a plastic outer wrapping, the carrots come in bags, the tomatoes are in mesh packages. It is really ridiculous ... first because of the impact plastic has on our environment and secondly, because we should be able to touch/smell the food before we buy it. Some may say that it is unsanitary to touch food before you buy it because germs could be easily spread that way. But, you wash your fruits and vegies before you eat them, right?
I wish there were big bins of field tomatoes to choose from and that I could choose which red, yellow and orange pepper I want. 'Cause I feel qualified to pick my own food.
However, if you visit a local Farmers Market, you can do all these things for yourself ... and you can smell the sweetness of the food and the dirt from the fields.
As I walked through the produce department, feeling disappointed about the state of our food production, it reminded me that I had a book to tell you about. One that I read a couple of months ago, but wanted to wait until the summer months to tell you about it.
Plus, I was feeling a little sneaky ...
But desperate times call for desperate measures. Even though I have (almost) given up on reading 100 books in one year, I still want to read as many books as I can.
A couple months back I read a book called, Food Rules by Michael Pollan. It is very small; in fact, I read it in a day. It's a pocket book, an Eater's Manual, Pollan calls it.
But it is still a book that I read, right?
It is a book of sixty-four rules by which we should govern our eating habits. It seems to me that it is just a book of reminders, because there are no real revelations that will change what you know about food, but it will serve as a reminder about all the things you know about food in your heart of hearts.
I guess, it's kind of a book of common sense rules for eating. And we can all use a reminder sometimes.
I have picked a few of my favourite reminders to share with you.
Rule #10: Avoid foods pretending to be something they are not. Imitation butter (margarine) is a great example of this ... it is about as unnatural as it gets. Products like "no-fat" cream cheese or sour cream are highly processed, rendering them very unnatural. And those products that are imitation meats, made from soy products are very worrisome. I used to eat them sometimes, but not anymore. Try to stick with what is real and wholesome.
Rule #15: Get out of the supermarket (when you can). Where I live (in sourthwestern Ontario), this is the best the time of year for sustainable living. I have not enjoyed the extreme heat and humidity this year, but that is a story for a different day; however, I have enjoyed the bountiful supply of local foods. Just today, Jonesy went down to a local Farmers Market, and bought fresh (never frozen) perch from the fisherman. Honestly, it does not get better than that ... it was so good. Addie C. ate three pieces, along with at least three helpings of fresh, local yellow beans. I am lucky to live in the centre of such a rich supply of food and I appreciate it. And, we are trying to teach our children to appreciate it as well. So, get out of the grocery store and visit a local Farmers Market. Taste what your region has to offer - you won't be sorry, I promise. And for those of you who visit a cottage, you are the luckiest of all because you can combine the local foods from two different regions on the same plate!
Rule #21: It's not a food if it's called the same name in every language. I am talking about a Big Mac, Doritos, Triscuits, Oreos ... these are not true food items. I'm not saying that these things do not taste good ... but they should not be part of your everyday meals.
Rule #25: Eat your colours. There are different nutrients to be gained from each colour of food. I don't know what they all are ... but I know that it is important to eat a varied selection. Plus, it makes your plate look pretty and appetizing.
Rule #43: Have a glass of wine. Enough said, really. I'm sure this will be your favourite rule, as it is mine. However, research does show that those who enjoy alcohol regularly and in moderation, live longer and have fewer heart-related problems than those who avoid a cocktail or two. Now, in no way am I suggesting that it okay to get fall-down drunk every night. But a glass of wine with supper, or a nice cold beer after a long day at the office, is a way of maintaining a healthy life style. My own philosophy is that a nice cold cocktail helps you to relax, and gain a little perspective. At least, it does for me.
Rule #55: Eat meals. Sounds ridiculous to even mention it ... but according to studies, more and more people are snacking throughout the day. Just grabbing something while on the run. Eat a meal ... sit at a table, with a plate and utensils, and share the meal with someone, if you can. Of course everyone has eaten a sandwich or a piece of toast while walking out the door ... but that should be the exception, not the norm. It is important to experience the food. Because if you think about it, when you are just stuffing something down your throat while driving to your next meeting (or child's soccer game or Doctor's appointment), you don't really taste it. Probably because you are starving by that point, but also because you are not really focussed on what you are doing. If you sit at a table, with utensils and a friend, you want to enjoy what you are eating; you will ensure it is something full of taste and quality. Take the time to schedule yourself some meals ... with your family or a friend.
Rule #60: Treat treats as treats. This is one area my children need to work on. "Can I have a treat after lunch?" I hear this question every single day. Now, luckily for me, they think watermelon is a treat ... but that doesn't cut it every day. They want a popsicle, or cookies, or a brownie ... all the same stuff your kids want. And they get to have them, it's just that I try to ensure they mostly have home-baked treats. Pollan, however, broadens his definition of a treat to include whatever you really, really enjoy but know is not particularly healthy. For instance ... fetuccini alfredo, fried chicken, doughnuts, ice cream, Cheese Whiz. What's your (food) vice? You should limit your intake of that particular food to special occasions, instead of every day.
Rule #63: Cook. I am good at this one, and it ensures that I maintain a high level of control over the quality of food my family eats. 'Cause you know I am a control freak, don't you? You should not be surprised to learn that the decline in home cooking parallels the rise in obesity; and those who cook are more likely to eat a healthful diet.
One day, when Caiden arrived from school, he reported that the kids in his class told him that he must not eat enough because he is too skinny. He was not too bothered about the comments, but it must have been on his mind because he mentioned it to Jonesy and I. Caiden does not have an ounce of fat on his body ... in fact, he has a six-pack of muscles at the tender young age of eight years. None of my kids are chubby ... and neither are they under-weight or sickly looking. The point is that Caiden was singled out as being different because he is not fat. Things sure have changed since I went to elementary school ... when the odd one out was the child who was a little chubby.
I have visited Caiden's classroom over the past year, and I can offer my own observation that the majority of his classmates are overweight, nearing obesity ... in Grade 2. It is causes me great concern for their future health and reinforces some of my thoughts on the food industry. And the marketing industry. Caiden tells me that one little boy's mommy brings him food from Burger King every day for his lunch. Every day? Most kids bring Kool-Aid Jammers for their drink ... or a Coke. When I asked him if other kids bring fresh fruit or vegies in their lunch, he thought for a moment and could remember two kids out of his class who did. Now, of course this is not a scientific gathering of information, but Caiden is pretty observant. Plus, he has recently announced that he wants to be a chef and has taken a great interest in food, nutrition and recipes.
As I have read this back to myself, I realize that I sound bossy and judgmental. I don't mean to. However, I am very concerned for the quality and over-processification (I made that word up ... ) of the food that we eat. And, I guess I just assume that if everyone understood that the food they are eating is not the highest quality that it could be (just because big producers want to make more money), they would want to do something about it. They would make some different choices about what ends up in the grocery cart.
What do you think would happen if people found out that the gasoline we were pumping into our cars was (directly) resulting in a shorter life for our vehicles? And, it was causing them to break down repeatedly and requiring consant repairs? Would you purchase that gasoline anymore? Would people stand for that? No way, because we need our cars to be reliable and run smoothly.
Shouldn't you feel the same about your body, and the "gasoline" that you put into it? Because we need it be run reliably, with very few repairs. At least, I do.
And so in an effort to promote local foods and Farmers Markets, I have listed below some links ... check them out sometime. It's fun finding your own food!
Windsor's Downtown Farmers Market ... open every Saturday from 8am til 1pm, now through October 30th. Local produce, fisherman, Angus beef, some artisans as well.
Galati Cheese Company ... that's right, there is a family-owned company (here in Windsor), who produce their own cheese. It's fresh and delicious and makes incredible pizza! Check it out sometime.
Sartaj Flour ... this is the only flour I buy now - no more do I buy the highly processed, bleached flour found at the grocery store. Sartaj is a family owned company, and they are just the nicest people. They even gave my kids and I a tour of their mill the first time we visited. They make wheat flour, spelt flour, chick pea flour and corn flour. I have tried them all ... but I'm not real sure what to do with chick pea flour yet. It is all high in fibre and has a great taste. I use it in all my baking ... cookies, muffins, pancakes, pizza dough.
Sun Parlor Honey Company ... Did you know that there is a honey producer in Cottam, Ontario? Me either, til recently. Take the kids for a drive one day, and visit a bee farm. And you can buy as much as you can afford because honey never goes bad!
Chatham-Kent Local Farmers ... This is a website listing all the farmers and their products in the County of Kent.
Nickels Orchards ... what I love about this website, is that they have included an availability guide ... and according to that availability guide nectarines, apricots and plums are just coming into season. I've got a recipe for an apricot pie I have been itching to try ... so, I'm thinking a road trip will be happening for the Jones children any day now!!
Hope that will get you started ... but make your own list of local food suppliers. And if you have a favourite that you want to share, leave it in the Comments Section. I'd love to hear from you.
Tonight, I had a glimpse. You know, a glimpse of what the future might be like. A glimpse of that feeling a mother gets when her child accomplishes something (really wonderful) all by themselves.
Don't get me wrong, I have experienced it ... but in a limited sort of way. Like, the time Marnie learned a new song school. A song that I did not know ... in French. And, as she sang it to Jonesy and I, we exchanged one of those "how-does-she-know-this?" looks. Or, today, when Caiden explained to me that people who have strokes often suffer from a "droop" on one side of their mouths ...
"Caiden, that is exactly what happens," I said. "How do you know that?" I am expecting him to say that he heard Nana talk about it, or he read about it on Wikipedia.
"I saw it on Family Guy," he explained. Ugh.
Okay, so maybe that was not a moment of parental pride.
But you know what I am talking about ... it's that feeling you get inside when your child does something all by him/herself.
The other night, we had a Big Boy movie night with Caiden while Marnie had a "vacation (from Addie)" at Nana's house. We watched The Karate Kid, starring Jaden Smith. It is so sweet, with a great message. In fact, I am no longer "allowed" to say that Jaden (or the female (adolescent) lead) is adorable; but between you and me, I wanted to hug and kiss them a whole bunch.
Essentially, it is the same story as the original, starring Ralph Macchio and Mr. Miyagi, but different and updated. Dre Parker (Jaden Smith) moves from Detroit, Michigan to China, with his mother. He is out of his element and finds himself being bullied by some local boys. The (apartment) building maintenance man (Jackie Chan) decides to teach Dre about the art of authentic kung fu. Jackie is sweet and patient and emotional ... as he teaches Dre the one thing that he has an appreciation for. Jaden Smith is adorable and cool and so likeable - but remember, I am not allowed to say that!
As he reached (inevitable) success, I could only think that one day, I would be watching as my children did the same. Maybe not in a kung fu tournament (please, not in a kung fu tournament), but success none the less. And the emotion that filled me as I watched this fictional character would only pale in comparison to the emotion I would feel when it is my own child, right?
It is some kind of weird mixture of pride and arrogance and self-satisfaction and separation. Because it is amazing when they learn something that you did not teach them, isn't it? I mean, how could they learn something if I did not teach it to them? I think this is part of my problem ... this strange idea that only I can teach them the things they need to know ...
You're beginning to feel sorry for my kids, aren't you?
I want all these things for my kids ... the independance, the knowledge, the "finding who they are." But I don't want to miss one second of it ... I really don't. I would feel like I was missing out on something absolutely incredible ... I would feel like I was missing out on them.
Maybe because I am looking to learn something about myself at the same time.
But I guess they must find their own way, and I have to find mine.
But what if we go in completely different directions?
This is the fear that I live with ... because then, I will be alone.
So, for now, I am going to enjoy teaching them the things I know because one day soon, they will be teaching me things they know. And, the things they can do.
As I have read over this past year, I have kept notes. Which might seem sort of weird to you, but when you want to write (about anything, really), it is important to remember the feelings that were invoked and what inspired them. Sometimes things I read bring a memory to mind, sometimes it is an opinion and other times it is a key moment in the plot. So, while I am reading, I keep one of those really cute little ecojot mini notebooks nearby ... to jot down key words, thoughts, feelings, memories and any page numbers that I might need for reference.
But sometimes, I am just entertained.
While I read Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, I did not take one note. Nothing. Maybe it was because I read so quickly ... or maybe it was because I was distracted with images of Rob Pattinson in the lead role for the film adaptation (filming right now!). Whatever the reason, a pencil did not hit my cute little notebook once.
On the front cover of the book, a reviewer noted that Gruen has a voice to rival John Irving. Having just read (my new favourite book) A Prayer for Owen Meany, I almost find this offensive. However, it doesn't mean that Gruen is not a great story teller. She is ... in fact, this is a great summer read. It's uncomplicated, it's quick, and it's unique. But in no way is comparable to John Irving.
The year is 1931 and Jacob Jankowski is one week from writing his final exams in order to become a veternarian, when both his parents are killed in automobile accident. In a moment of confusion and desperation, he jumps on board a train to escape his life ... only to find himself surrounded by the greatest show on earth. That's right, he has inadvertantly jumped aboard the travelling circus, and he finds more than he ever bargained for.
The story moves between a ninety-three-year-old Jacob, who is now living in a nursing home, feeling alone and abandoned by his family; and a twenty-three-year-old Jacob, who is discovering who he is. Whenever I think of a nursing home, and the abandoned old men and ladies that live there, I always think of Gracie ... and I didn't even know her.
My Mom worked on the Geriatric Care floor toward the end of her career as a nurse. And she took care of Gracie. Gracie was probably in her nineties, she had no family that visited, she was blind and very, very hard of hearing. She was not ambulatory, and so her days were spent in her bed re-living her life. A brother with a broken arm after a fall from a silo, her marriage, a baby that was taken away from her, a true love that was unrealized ... these are the things she re-lived. And she often cried real tears, but no one (other than the nurses) was there to comfort her.
And, she hosted tea parties for her two besties ... although I cannot remember their names. Gracie would talk for all three ladies ...
"Well, good to see you, Ethel," Gracie would say.
"And you, Grace," Gracie would reply. "I just adore these shortbread cookies you make."
"Well, thank you, Ethel. I think Mabel should be here any time," says Gracie. "Did you hear about the fire down at the "Smith's" farm?"
"Well, yes I did, Grace," Gracie would answer. "I'm just glad no one was hurt. But lots of damage, I hear ... Oh good, here comes Mabel now."
"Sorry, I'm late ladies," Gracie would say. "I had a pie in the oven and couldn't leace 'til it was cooked. You know how Gerry is ... I couldn't rely on him to take it out of the oven!" And then Gracie would giggle ... because she could remember exactly how Gerry was.
So it would go on, giving small glimpses into her life. A life I did not know, but one I will never forget.
But it does lead me to another thought. It's a thought that one does not come to understand until they are a "true" grown up ... You can learn things from the elderly. Yes, things about your family, things about history. And you can hear about these things first hand. Unless it is too late. Would you believe that your Grama might have a secret? Something that she had never told anyone? Or that your Grandpa was involved in something truly extraordinary or life-changing?
There are so many things I wish I had asked my Grama and Grampa. My Grama died when I was only fifteen years old; and, although I had great times with her and have many wonderful memories, I did not take the time to learn about her. I was only fifteen years old, afterall - I was more concerned with my hair and who had a crush on who. Did she have regrets? What was it like when she was a child? What was her favourite flavour of ice cream? Did she have many boyfriends? Did she enjoy her job? Did she wish she could have gone to University? And, my Grampa had even more stories to share ... and he did so often. But I wish I would have taken the time to really listen to them and ask questions about the parts that interested me.
But these are the things we realize when it is too late sometimes. Probably because we are now getting old. Water for Elephants brings home the idea that inside that wrinkly skin, if you move past the difficulty that hearing loss presents, there is someone with a really cool story to tell you. And you should listen. It teaches us that you are never too old to follow your dream - don't forget that part.
This is the first in my quest to read all Canadian authors for the month of July. Sara Gruen was born in Vancouver, BC; she grew up in London, Ontario; and she studied literature at Carleton University in Ottawa, Ontario. She now resides in the US with her husband, her three children and her own menagerie of pets.
Image of Rob Pattinson as Jacob Jankowski found at RobPattzNews
I have a confession to make ... I look forward to natural disasters.
That's right ... bring on a good hurricane, or an oil spill, or a tsunami, or whatever other natural disaster you can think of.
Because it means that my Anderson Cooper will be reporting LIVE from the scene in his (tight, black) t-shirts.
We were discussing it the other night and apparently, my Dad has a problem with this. I do not. Let me repeat that for you ... I do not. My Dad is convinced that Anderson buys his t-shirts one size too small - on purpose. What I think ... is that my Dad's heart is one size too small.
I say this in jest, because Anderson does not wear the t-shirt one size too small in an effort to make us ladies watch him (don't pretend you don't) ... he is a serious news reporter. If I were him ... along the Gulf coast/in a hurricane ... suffering in the high humidity ... and the heat ... I would wear the t-shirts as well. Maybe not one size too small, but I'd wear one.
You should know that I fell in love with Anderson Cooper long before he started wearing tight t-shirts that accentuated his bicepts. What? Didn't I mention the bicepts? Well, they are there ... but that is not why I love him. I have loved him for a couple of years now; actually from the moment I started to read his memoire ... Dispatches From the Edge. It is a very touching story, reminiscing about stories from his early days as a reporter in the Congo and Ruwanda. Anderson writes about his father death when he was just ten years old and the fact that he never really got over it ... the pain and missing his Dad, that is. He also writes (frankly) about his brother's suicide. It is raw and emotional and honest. If you are looking for an interesting read while lounging at the beach/cottage, and you enjoy biographies/true stories, pick this book up. You will not be disappointed.
So, I will continue to keep on top of all naturally occurring disasters, in the hopes that he'll be there, reporting the latest news. I'll continue to love him for the person he is on the inside ... the caring, emotional, lost man that he is. Not the man who wears tight t-shirts on the news. But, if he wants to wear them, that's okay with me, too.
Over the last couple weeks of June, Addie C. and I had to visit the University a few times. She would hit the campus running, her pace slowing only when it was time to get back into our van. But she had lots of things to say along the way.
"Is that the Aversity? The place with the pictures of the beer bottles all over it?" This is overheard on the way to the Aversity, as we drove by the Hiram Walker plant on Riverside Drive. "Nope, but University is a place just like this ..." I explain. At least it was when Jonesy and I were last on Campus.
"Hello!" or "Hi! I'm Addie." Addie C. says hello to everyone - outside landscapers, construction workers, secretaries, students, rocks, grass, puppies named Cooper ... everyone. Until someone says "hello" to her and then she wants to hide.
"What's that drink, Mommy?" Addie C. asks, pointing to a vending machine. "That is Full Throttle Energy Drink," I tell her. "Can we get some?" she wants to know. "Puleeeeeeeeese..." "No. You may NEVER have that drink. Not ever." And I am very serious about that.
"Can we go up those stairs 'cause I've never been there before." This is not really a question, because she is already half way up the stairs before she has finished the statement.
"Mommy!! Don't leave me ..." screamed at the top of her lungs, as she is running "full throttle" across the campus.
"I don't like that building with all the weeds on it." Addie C. is referring to Dillon Hall, once known as Assumption Hall. It was built in 1928 and is the most architecturally beautiful building on campus. Plus ... it holds a special place in my heart because I had many, many classes in there and I had my picture taken in front of it (with those beautiful weeds as a back drop), wearing my cap and gown after my graduation with my Grampa.
"Addison, if you don't stay with Mommy, I will not bring you to visit the University again." As she is running "full throttle" across the campus.
"Do they have a garbage at this place? At the Aversity?" Addie C. asks. "Yes, they do," I explain. These are the types of conversations I participate in. "Then why do people just throw their stuff on the floor?" she wants to know, as she points out a dirty kleenex on the ground. "I don't know," I tell her honestly. She has a point. Why don't people use the garbage bins that are scattered around campus?
"She is just beautiful." Commented by a young girl waiting in a line behind us. She was probably thinking that her children will never run around all crazy like this little girl. See you in a few years ... 'cause that is exactly what I once thought.
Just wait until she visits the Aversity when all the full-time students return. Wait ... would you take crazy Addie C. Jones to a crowded University Campus? Me either.
I just wanted to go to a quiet and deserted island so that I could relish every word. So I could truly enjoy the end of my new favourite book. I wanted to be able to choke back the inevitable tears without causing any alarm amongst my flock. I just wanted to sit and drink in the story.
Wait ... maybe I just wanted a drink ... because around here, a Mom is not really allowed to sit and relish anything unless it has something to do with a hamburger.
And then after reading the whole thing, I wanted to retreat to a quiet room with a computer so that I could write an essay about what I had just read. I had all these emotions and thoughts that needed to be freed from my brain. But that won't happen either because unless you are a university professor, who would want to read it? However, maybe I'll get my chance to write that essay someday soon.
Back before there were little Jones' running around, in the summer of 2000, Jonesy and I rented a cottage near Bracebridge, Ontario. When we arrived at the cottage, I realized that I had forgotten to pack a book ... a necessity for the cottage in my opinion. As luck might have it, the cottage we rented had a small library of good books to choose from and I decided on The Cider House Rules by John Irving. It had been released as a movie in 1999 and won a bunch of awards in 2000 ... so, I was familiar with it.
I cannot begin to tell you how much I love that book. I was lost in the story, and found it hard to put down once I began reading. On that same trip, I was bit by a spider (or some other strange insect) and had an allergic reaction that left me with a very large welt on my leg and a great deal of discomfort. The pharmacist recommended that I take some Benadryl until the discomfort and itchiness went away ... but Benadryl makes me VERY sleepy. So, for our week of vacation, I was either sleeping, itching or reading. I sound like fun, don't I?
But I did finish the almost 600 page Cider House Rules in five days. I was captivated by the characters and the story, along with their moral dilemnas and the psychology of the story.
But there is a new Irving book in (Jones) town, and The Cider House Rules has been kicked to the side.
When I began to read A Prayer for Owen Meany, I didn't realize John Irving had written The Cider House Rules. I recognized Irving's name, but I thought that I had studied something written by him in a previous university English class. My bad (See? I can talk like a young, hip university student) ... but I will not forget his name ever again. I could never forget the man who brought Owen Meany to life.
Please do yourself a favour and go pick this book up. I promise you will not be disappointed. You cannot read it quickly, though ... you won't want to. You will want to experience the entire story ... sometimes, you will need to stop and consider what had just happened or make a couple of connections. My Mom will want to savour this book so much I predict it will take her a year to read it! Sometimes, I had to put it down because it was too noisy at my house to really enjoy it. And, I suspect, that I read slowly because I did not want to lose Owen Meany. I wanted to hang out with him for as long as I could.
Owen Meany is a real character ... by that, I mean, he is the kind of person you will never forget and who makes an impact on your life. He changes it or shapes it in some way. He is a person of small size ... at the age of eleven years old, he is the size of a typical five-year-old. And he has a very strange voice ... But those are not the reasons you will find it difficult to forget him. He is one of the most unique people I have ever known ... but he's not for real, is he? So, I guess I don't know him, but I wish I did.
This book reminds me of A Sight for Sore Eyes by Ruth Rendell ... not that Owen Meany is in any way like Teddy Brex. Now, there is an essay assignment ... Compare and contrast Owen Meany with Teddy Brex. I could actually begin that essay by considering the boys' parents ... both were distant, and unable to show emotion; but while Owen ends up a charasmatic, magnet for people, Teddy becomes a mentally disturbed social pariah. I could be on to something here. You must think I am crazy ... but these are the things that stimulate my brain right now.
Anyhow, the books are similar in that they are an English student's dream. There are so many themes running through this story, it would be difficult to know which one to write about. Of course, you could write a lengthy paper on how religion plays a part in the story, and somehow link the idea to destiny and intuition and visions. Or you could look at the theme of being armlessness or amputation; baseball plays its part in the story, too. I could easily go through the book again - because I would read this again in a heartbeat; in fact, I want to read it again, right now - to find evidence for the idea that Owen Meany is a miracle.
Yes, I strongly believe that Owen Meany was miraculous in his own right.
There is also a theme of literature that runs through the story. The characters (especially Owen Meany) often mention things they have read. Owen becomes the main editorial columnist for his school newspaper and he often uses quotes from famous authors to make his point with his best friend, John (the narrator). Owen encourages John to write his Doctoral thesis on Thomas Hardy (1840 - 1928), whose works considered the events of real life and the possibility of fate - in the same way the Irving does in A Prayer for Owen Meany. And in the end, the narrator ends up becoming a high school English teacher.
Some have compared John Irving to Charles Dickens, in his story telling style. Which makes sense to me because Great Expectations is one of my most favourite books ever.
In the Winter Semester, beginning January 2011, I will be taking an Contemporary American Literature course. There will be no one happier than me if there happens to be something by John Irving on the reading list. Because maybe then I'll get to write that essay after all.
Occasionally, a quote from a book will stay with me; and so, I'll leave you with one I will never forget from Owen Meany ...
"YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING TO BE AN ENGLISH MAJOR, YOU DON'T NEED ANY SPECIAL TALENT, YOU JUST HAVE TO PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT SOMEONE WANTS YOU TO SEE - TO WHAT MAKES SOMEONE ANGRIEST, OR THE MOST EXCITED IN SOME OTHER WAY. IT'S SO EASY; I THINK THAT'S WHY THERE ARE SO MANY ENGLISH MAJORS."
Next, it was romaine salad with Blue Cheese dressing. Just quarter romaine hearts and drizzle with Blue Cheese dressing ... it doesn't get any easier than that! Plus, I totally cheated and used dressing from a jar ... you're suppose to use real blue cheese.
For the third course, I served a plate with sausage, Monchego cheese, gerkin pickles, sardines and more bread plus red wine. Then I allowed everyone to choose what they wanted. This goes against the rules of tapas parties, however I am dealing with young children and women who don't particularly enjoy stinky fish. But the Spanish people do, so I included it and allowed everyone to make their own decisions. Caiden loves sardines, by the way ... he will eat a whole tin for lunch!!!
Finally, I made paella. Again, I veered from the traditional and served it from a large platter on the table because everyone was getting very full. It seemed appropriate for everyone to help themselves, instead of me trying to guage how hungry each person was. However, had I served it traditional tapas-style, I would have offered each person one drumstick and a very large scoop of rice.
All my tapas recipe ideas came from a book I bought a couple of years ago when I (first) hosted a tapas party for some friends. It is called cesar, Recipes from a Tapas Bar. The beginning of the book details the authors' trials and tribulations of constructing their tapas bar in Berkeley, California followed by a lengthy section on cocktails, and finally the recipes they use at their restaurant. This is a wonderful book with great photos and some fabulous ideas for entertaining. You could host a tapas party and ask each guest to bring a tapas dish to share, along with a cocktail to compliment the dish. When I hosted my tapas party, I included a note explaining what "tapas" is and suggested websites for ideas.
. It is a very touching story, reminiscing about stories from his early days as a reporter in the Congo and Ruwanda. Anderson writes about his father death when he was just ten years old and the fact that he never really got over it ... the pain and missing his Dad, that is. He also writes (frankly) about his brother's suicide. It is raw and emotional and honest. If you are looking for an interesting read while lounging at the beach/cottage, and you enjoy biographies/true stories, pick this book up. You will not be disappointed.
