I have this precious friend.

I call her “Little Darling”.

A woman of enviable elegance and style.

Celebrating her 93rd Birthday.

For “Little Darling” a Birthday week of cards.

Each card reflecting her style and grace.

The places that are important to her.

Memories and dreams.

“Little Darling”  a beautiful woman, a beautiful mind.

A celebration of memories.

Celebrating a wonderful life.

Happy 93rd birthday “Little Darling”.

The  morning sun warms my garden.

I’ve scrubbed  and cleaned the pebbly patio floor.

Hosed the stone walls down.

Washed and rearranged the furniture.

Plumped the pillows.

Wiped clean the garden pots erasing the dust of winter.

Cleaning,  this care of objects,  is good for the soul.

The garden look perfect – too perfect.

I remembered a story about the Japanese tea master,   Sen no Rikyu.

He had asked his son to clean the path leading to the tea garden.  The son carefully swept and scrubbed.  Sen no Rikyu inspected the work.  “Not complete” was his response.  The son repeated the taste with even greater care.  Again it was not accepted.  He cleaned a third time certain that every speck of dust was washed away.  Rikyu just shook his head.  The son in desperation shouted, “Well, you show me how to do it, then!”  The tea master walked to a small tree near the path and gave it a vigorous shake.  A rain of leaves sprinkled the path.  “Now the garden is perfect.”

With a respectful bow to the Japanese tea master,  Sen no Rikyu,  I gave my camellia tree a shake.

Now the garden is perfect.

Early morning is the very best time to enjoy the garden.

To simply listen to the quiet.

Not a single car drives by.

The steams rises from my coffee cup and mingles with the perfume of the flowers.

Bumbling, bumbling, bumbling,

Bumble Bees hum their song

Bumble bees their feet dusted with gold.

My coffee cup warms my hand.

Then from from the distance I hear music.

Far away across the fields  a truck parks waiting to make a delivery.

A semi trailer with an extra large cab.

A home on the road.

Music drifts  across the fields.

A  solitary trumpet  playing a soulful song.

I sing along with the music.

“I was dancing with my darlin’

to the Tennessee waltz

when an old friend

I happened to see.

I introduced him to my darlin’

and while they were dancing

My friend stole my sweetheart

from me”

A  serendipitous moments that I share with a truck driving musician.

I sing out loud and clear “Thank you for the music.”

Quiet – then a shy toot of the truck’s horn.

My unknown musician takes his bow.

The memories sustain us.

Nourish us.

Guide our way through life.

Every day.

We cherish these thoughts.

On this our Mother’s day.

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We lived  a short while  on the corner of Herrit van der vee straat and Beethoven Straat, in Amsterdam.    The best cheese shop in Holland was a few steps away.  Just a little further down  Beethoven Straatt was the best butcher shop –   Willum the butcher.

Down the street was my favorite shop.  The most elegant and decadent of chocolate shops.  Along with  the most heavenly selection  of chocolates  were exquisitely created cakes and desserts.  Life truly became a box of chocolates.

The flowers in Amsterdam were so magnificent, so plentiful and so inexpensive.   Ten feet from our apartment door a flower seller set up his displays  every morning.   We never needed an excuse to  catch the tram to the open air Albert Cuypmarkt or  the Flower Market on the Singel Canal  to find  the perfect flowers.

Our favorite florist gave me the two best tips when arranging flowers, and having them last.    I pass them on to you.

One -  don’t use too much water.   Don’t fill your vase with water. The stems need to breathe.

And two -  cut the ends of the flowers every day.  They self-heal -  cutting off the water flow.

Following this expert advice I have had roses last up to two weeks.  And, Casa Blanca lilies last even longer.

When I was growing up I watched the ritual of tea being made in this blue teapot.     Every day tea was made in a large brown Betty,  a teapot as plain as  its name.  Tea made in the blue teapot was reserved for special occasions; brides and baby showers , afternoon whist drives and most important of all, bridge.

To me this was the most beautiful teapot in my world.

Everything had to be perfect.  The tablecloth  freshly laundered and carefully ironed.  My Mother had bought this cross stitch  tablecloth with matching napkins during the hard days of the depression.    An  enterprising  woman was  going door-to-door selling her exquisite  handiwork.   I remember my Mother saying  it had been priced rather “dear” , but well worth the price.

Weeks in advance cookbooks would be poured over  and consulted.    It was a given the sandwiches would be cut from white and brown bread in the shapes of hearts, clubs, spades and diamonds.  The fillings,   egg salad, deviled ham, creamed chicken, cucumber.

This  1924 edition of  a Fannie Farmer Cookbook, was considered the most up-to-date cookbook on the shelf.

The pages provided inspiration for sandwich fillings .  It was World War Two.  Many  ingredients were impossible to come by.  Sugar was rationed.  Creative cooks improvised.   Not even War could stop the rituals of bridge.

While my Mother read the  The Boston School Cook Book, I poured over this Blue Ribbon Cook Book.  This cook book  was printed in 1905,  “for everyday use in Western Homes”.

Would I make a  Minnehaha cake, a simple yellow cake with a delicious filling of  boiled icing with raisins and almonds.

No, I had made that cake the last bridge club tea.  This time  a selection of cookies; lemon snaps, horns of plenty and coconut jumbles.  Perhaps this was the occasion to make brandy snaps, rolling the crisp wafer thin cookies around a wooden spoon, then filling them with whipped cream.

Heady decisions for a ten year old baker.

It’s been more than sixty years since  those days of  food rationing, whist drives and bridge tournaments.   My sisters are still playing bridge several days a week.   Although I am no longer researching recipes to use in our little bistro  I am still baking, and  pouring over cookbooks.

This recipe for lemon snaps was one of my favorites.  I have copied out the recipe EXACTLY the way it is given in my Blue Ribbon Cookbook.  You will notice there are few instructions.  You must judge how much flour to add, and  know how to judge a “quick oven” by putting your hand into the oven.  By the way, a quick oven would be 375-400 F.  It meant having a lot of kindling on hand to keep a very hot fire going in the stove.  Another job for the cook.

Recipe for LEMON SNAPS:

2/3 cup butter, l cup sugar, 4 tablespoons hot water, 2 eggs, flour to roll soft, 1/2  teaspoon soda, 2 teaspoons Blue Ribbon lemon extract.  Bake in a quick oven.

The beautiful blue tea pot – now over 90 years old,  sits on a shelf in my kitchen, a reminder of those elegant days of   afternoon tea.

Early, early morning.

I’ve taken my coffee to the front patio.

The sun is just coming up behind hazy blue mountains.

I close my eyes and revel in the perfumed morning.

“Buongiorno.  Buongiorno.  You have a post card from Italy.”

The postie  is parked at the mailbox.  She is holding a card and waving it excitedly.

I walk to the box.  “I didn’t know you spoke Italian , Gina”

“Only a little.  My Mother – she was born in Italy.  Your card is from Grosseto in Tuscany.  My Mother’s village  is very close.”

These days ones mailbox is generally empty.    E-mails and texting have changed the way we communicate.  Even birthday cards arrive by E-Mail.

Today to my delight another  postcard from Tin Man and Augustine has arrived.  They are having a wonderful adventure – two months in Europe.

Post cards with stories of exotic food and glorious sights.  I ‘m following Tin Man and Augustine’s adventures  and marking their stops along the way.

Valencia and a visit to the Chapel of the Holy Grail.

Lisbon

Lisbon and beautiful fresh seafood.

Yesterday they said good-bye to Malta.

Today they are in Sicily where ocean breezes are  perfumed with wild herbs.

I’ve pinned up a large map of Europe .  As the communiques from Tin Man arrive I mark the map.   I’m following them with my heart.  Every day a fresh flower for Buddha and wishes for safe journey.

Poor, neglected and rejected cauliflower -    steamed or boiled into tasteless mush that no amount of cheese sauce can rescue.  Is it any wonder so many people are cauliflower haters.  This recipe is pure magic.  Roasted at a high temperature caramelized florets of cauliflower becomes intensely sweet nutty morsels that are highly addictive, and incredibly versatile.  BLISTERED CAULIFLOWER as a side dish shines.  Add it to a salad – bravo! Toss it with pasta – bellissimo!

(For the recipe simply click on  BLISTERED CAULIFLOWER and travel to my food blog MRS. BUTTERFINGERS.  I promise you, you won’t be disappointed.

Once upon a time (all good stories begin with once upon a time)  many centuries ago a delicate tree grew in China.

The flowers on this tree were so magnificent, so unusual only the Emperor of China was allowed to possess a tree peony.

These  tree peonies would live up to one hundred years, but  they could never be moved for they would die.

Beauty such as this could not be held captive by one man.

In the eighth century the royal court of China shared these blossoms with Japan.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote “if the stars should appear but one night every thousand years how man would marvel and stare”.

Truly the Japanese Tree Peony is the star in this garden.    Blossoms,  heavy with fragrance and the size of dinner plate, fill one with rapturous, delirious delight.

One can only stand

and stare

and marvel.

Japanese Tree Peony – a happy ending to a garden fairy tale.

A flock of witty French pigeons discuss the menu.

Olive Tapanade  for an appetizer

plump green and dark olives

fragrant rosemary, sage and thyme.

Something robust,

Italian

Porchetta

pork roasted crusty brown with fennel and garlic.

Dessert

The pure alchemy of crème brûlée’

To amuse

witty pigeon place cards.

Place cards for fun.

To amuse especially  the youngest guest at dinner.

I down-loaded this charming idea from countryliving.com/pigeoncards.  Printed them on coloured cardstock to compliment my French plates.

I thought these birds are so sweet I’ll trace them onto patterned cardstock (found at a craft store) to match these plates.

For an all white theme I traced the sweet birds onto pages from an old book then distressed the edges a little.

How easy is this.  Your pattern and a bone folder (or soup spoon) and one can create their own flock of pigeon place cards.

(You’ll find the recipes for Olive Tapanade and créme brûlée  on my food blog Mrs.Butterfingers.Simply click on the recipe names.    The porchetta recipe – that is yet to be posted.)