Larchmont Musings

In the beginning....

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 02:06:00 +0000

Earlier this week, as I was going through my books to see which I felt needed a place on our new winter home’s bookshelves, I came to the shelf with Greek and Roman classics. Plato…Aristotle… Sophocles..and of course the playwrights.

These books have moved with me from place to place in the more than 40 years since my Great Books class at the University of Michigan, but, sadly, most have not been opened since I first placed them on the shelves in Larchmont.

Would I really need them again?

Then this morning at Larchmont Temple’s Chevra Torah, studying B’reishit and the story of creation, there they were, right in front of me again. Reading about Maimonides, I learned he was a student of Aristotle and struggled with his principles. And then Elizabeth recalled Plato’s concept of the human condition, in which (wo)men see only shadows in the cave and know nothing of the real world.

I realized I do need to read them again. So Plato, Aristotle and the rest of them are now in a carton, already enroute to our new home. I promise it will not be 40 years before I crack them open again.

Tucson

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 03:31:00 +0000

We are in Arizona this week, at a time of tragedy that may be for this generation a turning point similar to the assassination of John Kennedy for mine.

I've been listening to talk show radio in Arizona, and am heartened by the civil tone I am hearing from the callers. They are chastised, demoralized, and really searching deep into their hearts. Tucson leaders say "everyone loved Gabby." If that's so, why was her last election so hard fought?

I pray that this spirit of healing will last. But, unfortunately, I'm not betting on it. Our country has become so polarized. How do we turn it around? And how much of the blame lies with the media itself?

I wish I could feel more hopeful. But as I write this I see Palin on TV, and my hope deflates, like a pricked balloon.

Civil Rights & Social Justice: 50 Years of Reform Jewish Activism

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 15:46:00 +0000

Shopping locally

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 15:20:00 +0000

If you're a regular newspaper reader, you've probably seen the full page ads placed by American Express urging you to support the local businesses that create jobs, boost the economy and preserve neighborhoods around the country by "shopping small" this Saturday.

I can't think of a better excuse to avoid the mall than supporting Larchmont's small business owners by doing my holiday shopping here in town.

But, if you're still on the fence about it, here are some suggestions to get the ball rolling:

Books: The Voracious Reader and Anderson's have wonderful selections -- and both will gift wrap your selections.
Placemats: Foley's has a great selection of them, including the solid ones that always remind me of breakfast at an English inn and the modern metallic basket weave placements that are very in.
Bath products: Pink on Palmer has a wonderful selection to soothe and pamper.
Toys: In addition to Miller's on Mamaroneck Ave., you'll find toys at Foley's, the Corner Store and many other spots around town.
Jewelry: There's something for almost every price range -- check out Peridot, Wallach Jewelry Designs, and the stores that carry costume gems.

If you're still at a loss, check out an article I wrote a while ago about what you could find for $25 or less in Larchmont's stores.

And when it's time to rest the weary feet, drop a few bucks at one of the many watering holes in town. They, too, deserve our support this holiday season.

Happy shopping!

Holcaust Fraud, Israel Settlements

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Thu, 11 Nov 2010 03:12:00 +0000

Sometimes it's hard to be Jewish -- and I'm not talking about keeping kosher, learning Hebrew or not celebrating Christmas.

No, I'm talking about when the Jews are their own worst enemy, and I'm trapped between my love for Judaism and the Jewish tradition and my deeply embedded sense of justice. The news reported on the front page of today's New York Times was a prime example.

First, the settlements. Netanyahu's insistence on building 1,000 additional settlements is going to scuttle any hopes of peace. I usually hold my tongue when Israel does something I don't like (how they treat Palestinians, Gaza's occupation come quickly to mind) but the arrogance in this is beyond comprehension.

And even more galling: the news that Jews defrauded the programs established to provide assistance and compensation to victims of the Holocaust.

The Jews have plenty of enemies and we shouldn't be providing ammunition to them.

It's pretty discouraging.

Trick or Treat for UNICEF

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Sat, 30 Oct 2010 01:34:00 +0000

Tonight’s NBC news noted it’s 60 years since the first time young children collected pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters for UNICEF.

“Do you remember that?” I asked my husband, who grew up in the Deep South bayous of Louisiana.

“No, that was thought part of the international conspiracy,” he said, grinning.

We are a bit too old to remember the first year UNICEF was part of Halloween, but as an elementary student growing up in South Orange, NJ, in the 50s, I regularly collected for UNICEF – always, I confess, in tandem with my own request for sweet offerings of a different nature.

By the time I had children of my own, however, our perception of UNICEF had changed.

By then, in the mid-70s, the Jewish community had decided UNICEF (in large part because of the policies of the UN) had a decidedly anti-Israel bias. And so I never encouraged my children to donate any pennies or nickels collected to the agency.

Now, as my older child approaches her 40th, I am rethinking the whole issue.

Children, all to often, are the uninvolved pawns in international political.

Children, be they Israeli or Palestinian, Sudanese or Ethiopian, are innocent. And our responsibility to look beyond the political borders is unequivocal.

How can we deny these children a future?

Cookbooks and the recipes we cherish

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 01:01:00 +0000

Pork has never been made a regular appearance on my table, which may be why, after each of my few feeble attempts to cook a pork chop for my pork-chop-loving husband I sugest he just order them in a restaurant. (FYI: John highly recommends Palmer Crossing's chops)

After the last attempt he asked me, "Has pork always been cheaper than beef?"

I looked at him in bewilderment. How was I to know?

I was raised in a kosher-style house. We didn't drink milk at the dinner table, but usually had butter on the vegetables. We ate lobster and shrimp in restaurants, but I don't think my mother knew how to cook them. And the only pork I can ever remember in her fridge was bacon - served exclusively on BLTs.

Then today I came across my mother's well-thumbed copy of The Settlement Cookbook. It's from 1940, the year she was married. On a whim, I looked up pork chops.

There is only one entry.

Wipe pork chops, sprinkle with salt and pepper, place in hot spider, cover and cook slowly until well done and browned on each side. Or fry pork chops, sprinkled with salt and pepper, in hot frying pan, brown on both sides until well done, arrange on hot platter, and serve with slices of apples fried in the fat remaining in the pan.

Mrs. Simon Kander was the editor of The Settlement Cookbook, which first appeared in 1901. Kander worked with the Russian Jewish immigrants (my grandparents!) who came to the country just before and after the turn of the century, so it makes sense that the allotment of pages in the book follow her intended readers' dietary interests.

Chicken, the low-cost staple of many an immigrant household, has 12 pages in the cookbook; pork only three. Even "Tongue, Liver, Sausage, Heart, Kidneys" rates greater play in the 1940 edition.

As I thumb through my mother's copy, it opens automatically to some stained pages.

Small Cakes, Cookies: ws she interested in the Poppy Seed Cookies or Almond Bread Slices?

Fresh and Cooked Fruits: Broiled Grapefruit was a regular on our table, as were the Sliced Bananas with milk.

Under Poultry I see how she made Chicken Paprika and Chicken Fricassee, the dish my children remember her making more than any other.

But Shrimp Creole (something I make fairly regularly in honor of John's Louisiana roots) is a virgin page, as is Tamale Loaf and Jellied Bouillon.

In between the pages are recipes my mother clipped, copied, or garnered some other way.

On the inside cover, in the sprawling handwriting of her mother, my Nana, is a recipe for flanken.

There's my mom's Banana Cake, not that different from the banana bread I make fairly often.

My Aunt Ruthie's handwriting is immortalized in a recipe for anchovies, of all things.

And clipped from the NY Times, a May 1981 recipe for a strawberry souffle, something I'm sure she never mastered.

There are still cookbooks on my kitchen shelves, but nine times out of ten I go online to Epicurious.com to find a way to cook the evening meal.

Which makes me wonder: are recipes still handed down, generation to generation, in this day and age?

Let me know your thoughts.

In spite of everything...are people really good at heart?

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 00:14:00 +0000

I had forgotten the power of The Diary of Anne Frank, which we saw today at the Westport Country Playhouse.

The theater was filled with middle school aged-children: the Playhouse was hosting “family day” to encourage this next generation to learn not only about the Holocaust, but about the play’s eternal message of optimism and hope.

Like so many, I first read the book when I was about Anne’s age, which meant I of course identified with Anne, and tried to emulate her eternal optimism. I’ve seen the play and movie several times, but not in the last 20 years or more. And so I was, to put it mildly, blown away, yet again, by this story.

I had forgotten that Anne, after hearing a March 1944 special news report that a Dutch cabinet minister would gather diaries as a record of what had happened, decided to rewrite her diary as a novel that would affect the lives of people she never met. While she never finished her work, her dream succeeded beyond even her expansive imagination.

So many today want to shove the Holocaust into the back recesses of memory. They want to forget how awful we can be to one another. We want to believe it can never happen again. We want ovens to once again be associated with good things: steaming bread, sweet cakes – not the death sites where millions of Jews were exterminated.

Thank goodness Westport Country Playhouse is not willing to let this happen. And thank you, parents, who brought your children on a a beautiful Fall day to the Playhouse for a meaningful and hopefully lasting lesson.

This production in Westport is particularly powerful. It’s on for just one more week. So please, quickly, if you live anywhere near, let your fingers do the running over the keyboard to purchase tickets. And don’t forget to take your children.

Happy New Year, Ya'All

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Sat, 11 Sep 2010 02:23:00 +0000

NEW IBERIA, LA - I've been in synagogues all over the country and around the world, but rarely stray far from home for Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. So when we booked Jet Blue's All You Can Jet passes and decided to spend the first week in Southern Louisiana, I realized this would be a perfect opportunity to join the small congregation in New Iberia, where the Jewish families my husband grew up with worshipped.

We'd walked around the outside of Gates of Prayer on our last trip and recognized many of the names memorialized on the stained glass windows, including the Wormsers, who owned clothing stores in Franklin, Jeanerette and New Iberia. But the building is open only for worship, and we were in New Iberia for lunch on a weekday.

The congregation was founded in 1897, and by 1904 the synagogue was built, in large part due to the generosity of many Catholics in the town. It’s a beautiful building, lovingly cared for by its dwindling membership.

The congregation may be small, but John and I could not have asked for a warmer welcome. We may have come as strangers, but we left as friends, and hope we’ll be able to return again, soon. (Yes Carla, we will call ahead next time!)

In his Rosh Hashanah sermon, Rabbi Peter Rubinstein of the very large Central Synagogue in New York City spoke of the small congregations that survive from the determination that Jewish life will not die in their community. Rabbi Rubenstein suggested that his congregation partner with such a congregation, and urged his members to stop by whenever they are within hundreds of miles of one.

So if you're ever in Louisiana for Shabbat, I hope you'll stop in New Iberia and lend your voice to the prayer. I am glad that John and I decided to be at Gates of Prayer on Rosh Hashanah.

That said, its good to be home and that where I’ll be, at Larchmont Temple, this Yom Kippur.

May the New Year be a good year, a peaceful year, for you, your family and your loved ones, where ever you may be.

What's Cajun?

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 21:00:00 +0000

Over the past decade or so, since Cajun food became a fad, there's been a mistaken belief that Cajun food is about spice that burns the inside of your mouth, instead of just giving you that nice warm feeling as it makes its way down to your stomach.

Those in the know, my husband John Boudreaux included, have always been slightly amused - dismayed may be a better word - at this.

So there we were, on our first stop on our Jet Blue "all you can jet" journey, driving from Madisonville, LA where his sister lives to his home town in Franklin, when he got a hankering to visit a restaurant he frequented in his many trips to LSU in Baton Rouge.

Pat's Fisherman's Wharf in Henderson is off the beaten path, but in the 40+ years since John graduated it has developed a reputation as the crawfish capitol of the world.

It's a lot larger than the last time we were there, and a lot more commercial. But the menu's the same: crawfish, crawfish, and crawfish -- with a bit of shrimp or catfish for the unadventurous.

Thomas Wolfe wrote you can't go home again, and unfortunately, Pat's is one of those places we've probably visited for the last time. Pat now caters to those who have never tasted real Cajun food. Fortunately we were on our way to the real heart of Cajun country, where we knew we would not be disappointed. Stay tuned.

Jet-setting

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 10:01:00 +0000

A few weeks ago my husband spotted a small notice about Jet Blue's "All you can jet" offer. For just $499, we could go anywhere Jet Blue flies from September 7-October 6th. After a quick check to be sure we could get trips to see the grandchildren,we decided it was just too good a deal to pass up.

So for the next four weeks, I hope to post some of the highlights of our ventures. First stop will be Louisiana to see friends and family, and of course get our fill of that great Cajun cooking.

How nice it is to be retired!

Recycling now a little easier

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Thu, 12 Aug 2010 18:24:00 +0000

A blurb from the Town of Mamaroneck just caught my eye: we no longer need remove the bottle caps from plastic bottles before putting them out for recycling.

Seems like a small thing, but surely they add up. Maybe the added weight of all those caps will boost our recycling rate— which was a respectable 62 percent of all solid waste in 2009 —just a bit.

Of course, it would be a lot better— and a lot healthier, too —if we weren't using plastic bottles in the first place.

No one needs soda or fruit juice, and we have healthy clean water coming from the tap here in Larchmont. Invest in a water bottle — you can even keep it in the freezer to make sure it's cool when you set out. The environment will thank you.

Maybe we'll get to the point that there's so little solid waste in Larchmont-Mamaroneck that we can go to one-day-a-week collection. That would surely help the tax rate.

If you aren't homeless, leave these tomatoes alone!

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 15:33:00 +0000

When I started plants from seeds indoors this spring, I tried to carefully label each pot. But thinking doesn't make it happen, and when the zinnias I transplanted to my corner garden began to grow, lo and behold, most of them were tomatoes.

My corner is a busy corner, passed each day by hundreds walking to and from the train, Turtle Park and the Palmer shopping district. I always lose a few flowers to people who must think I'm growing them for their dining room tables, and I've even caught people lifting whole plants from my garden.

So when the tomatoes began to grow among the dahlias, I wondered whether even a single tomato would make it to our table. Sure enough, even though the beautiful tomatoes growing on these almost six-foot-tall plants are yet to ripen, they're beginning to disappear.

And so I made a decision. These tomatoes would be grown to benefit the homeless; I'll donate the majority of them, along with other produce from my garden, to the "Nourish Your Neighbor" campaign that Ed Merians first announced on The Loop.
I've posted a sign on the plants saying: These tomatoes are to feed the homeless. If you are not homeless, please leave them alone!
I'm waiting to see if it works.

So long, tree

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 14:08:00 +0000

As one who has been known to complain about the Village DPW crew (why, for example, do they prune the forsythia in September, thus ensuring there will be nary a yellow bloom come the spring?), I want to give credit where credit is due.

In June a large branch fell from the street tree in front of the house.

When I went to pick it up, expecting I'd need to use a bit of muscle, I was surprised to find it weighed no more than a few ounces. The limb was totally rotten, with just the bark holding the sawdust and dirt together.

We called the Village, and soon thereafter a crew arrived to pick up the limb and look at the tree. They agreed that the tree was in terrible shape and needed to be removed.

Until just a few years ago the tree had been completely shaded by a much larger and dominant tree across the street, and this tree had but a few spindly branches on the top. Its only function, it seemed, was to provide a home to squirrels, which had been living in the tree since we moved in.

Several weeks went by, and I thought about calling the Village again. Then one morning we heard the trucks arrive, and soon they set to work.

It didn't take long to bring the tree down. While the trunk was still fairly solid for about eight feet up, the rot was clearly working its way down. And the area where the squirrels had been living was practically hollow.

The DPW crew was efficient, knowledgeable and tidy.

So thank you, Village of Larchmont, for a job well done.

Now, about that stump….

Organically grown or local - what would you choose?

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Thu, 17 Jun 2010 20:46:00 +0000

I've been an organic gardener since I planted my first tomatoes almost 40 years ago, and I am something of an evangelist when it comes to the virtues of compost and the dangers of fertilizers and pesticides.

Nevertheless, when I'm in the grocery store, I more often than not pass by the organic produce and opt for what I was raised on: foods grown conventionally. With the growth of farmer's markets over the past decade, however, I've been paying more attention to the place of origin, and try to buy locally grown produce whenever possible.

Last week as I wandered around the Farmer's Market researching a piece for the Larchmont Patch on where to buy the best fruits and vegetables, I realized most of the produce on display was not organic. The dilemma crystallized in my mind, and I realized it was time to give a little more time to the choices I make.

My children buy only organic vegetables, mostly locally grown (it is, of course, a lot easier in Oregon and California) and I applaud them for it. After all, my grandchildren -- four under the age of eight -- have a long way to go, so healthy habits are important.

But my formative years were more than a half-century ago, so part of the reasoning for not always buying organic is my age. If pesticides haven't hurt me yet, I rationalize to myself, surely I'll be okay for the time remaining.

Growing all my own food really isn't an option. Besides the limitations of the Larchmont climate, my garden is post-stamp size. Decisions, decisions.

What do you do?

The lettuce is in

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 20:44:00 +0000

I was only half-way through the assignment for the Larchmont Patch to find the best hamburger in town when we left for San Francisco. While I managed to eat plenty of greens on the trip, we did take a dip into decadence with the the potatoes fried in duck fat that we found irresistable.

But then we returned and I needed to finish the research.

While the Sherwood's blue cheese burger ran a close second, the award has to go to the classic burger at Chat 19. If you're wondering why, read the full article on the Patch that was published today.

Thankfully, the lettuce in my garden is in its glory, so it's back to eating healthy.

Decadent in San Francisco

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Wed, 26 May 2010 00:16:00 +0000

The last time we were in San Francisco, we were disappointed to find the Washington Square Bar and Grill was closed, so we were glad to find this week that this historic newspaper hangout had reopened under new ownership.

Our cab driver -- from Armenia -- had never heard of the place, and when we said, "Just take us to Washington Square," he looked at us, shook his head and raised his eyebrows "Washington Square? It's just a square," he said.

Ensconced at the bar, listening to a great piano player hitting the keys, it felt a bit like old home week. After a while, the young barmaid – a Maine native, with French Canadian blood coursing through her veins that made my Cajun husband think she was a long-lost relative – brought our neighbors at the bar a delectable dish.

"Potatoes fried in duck fat," she told us. They looked too good to pass up.

"Potatoes fried in duck fat?" my husband-the-heart-patient said, incredulous that I would order them. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Oh, we'll balance them with a salad," I told him. And so we did.

The potatoes were as good as advertised. Really. So next time you're in the City by the Bay, find your way to Washington Square and try the fries. You'll not regret it.

Chickens, anyone?

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Wed, 19 May 2010 21:26:00 +0000

At last month's Sustainability Expo the portable chicken coop had lots of lookers - but no takers. It seems Larchmont and Mamaroneck residents, with their small yards, aren't ready for eggs on demand.

That's apparently not the case in Half Moon Bay, where we went to ride bikes along the beach with our grandkids. And the hardware store on Main Street had one of the best signs we've seen in a while.

Half Moon Bay began as a rural agriculture area, and there's still a lot small farming in the area, particularly pumpkins, Christmas trees and vegetables. So it's more than likely many folks raise chickens, too. But then again, the hardware store is just across from the local saloon, so who know which kind of chicks can be picked up on Main Street.

Dandelion wine, anyone?

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Mon, 10 May 2010 14:03:00 +0000

One quick look at my yard is all it takes to conclude that I am not a lawn fanatic. As long as it’s green I don’t really care if much of the color is provided by weeds. I’d rather spend my time on the flowers and vegetables than on cultivating a carpet of clover-free grass.

So you might wonder why I’ve spent time each morning and evening for the last week scanning my yard for the telltale seed heads of the dandelion, trying to catch them before they open into a full sphere when the individual seeds will catch the slightest breeze.

It began on a whim, when I recalled a scene many years ago of my elderly neighbor picking dandelions along the street across from her house. She told me that picking the seeds would stop them from flying across the street to her lawn.

If I could stop the seeds from spreading, I wondered, could I slow the proliferation of dandelions in the yard? I know that trying to dig up dandelions is an exercise in futility, and I’m totally opposed to using toxic chemicals that run off and pollute the Sound. But could I make my lawn a little less weedy and still be kind to the environment?
At first, I’d just pick the nascent seed heads in the morning, when I came back from the gym and walked around the yard to determine what I would do after the dew dried and it warmed up a bit. Then I realized the dandelions that had not even a hint of a seed head the day before had already dispersed their seeds by the following day.

So I began the twice daily routine -- and I decided to research the lifecycle of dandelions to find out why the seeds seemed to develop overnight.

At the “Ask a Biologist” website I learned I wasn’t crazy thinking that the dandelions were trying my patience by their seemingly overnight development. As a man from England wrote:

Dandelions close at night, and like all plants they may not obtain energy during the day, but they are busy using up stored energy. It seems likely that the final stages before the "clock" emerges will take place while the flower is closed… then it will open when the sun is strong enough to dry the papus (thus opening each parachute) and the seeds can disperse. This reliance on the sun means that the flower will stay shut on rainy days when the seeds would be less likely to disperse.

In other words, these are pretty smart plants.

David Beaulieu, who writes the About.com guide to landscaping, suggests that at a minimum we should tolerate dandelions and their attractive yellow flowers. And a more radical approach, he suggests, is to “eat your weed problems away.” After all, all the parts of the dandelion are edible, according to Bealieu.

The roots, he writes, can be roasted as a coffee-substitute. Dandelion greens can be boiled like spinach, or used as salad greens with a bite. And the flowers, as fans of Ray Bradbury will remember, can be made into wine.

Sounds interesting, but not an approach I’m going to follow. think I’ll just keep picking the seeds as they pop up and seeing the bright yellow spots on the lawn as a bit of sunshine.

Larchmont trees, old and new

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Tue, 04 May 2010 13:15:00 +0000

Larchmont residents value their trees, as was evidenced by last week’s Arbor Day celebration and the announcement that Larchmont has been named a “Tree City USA for the 29th consecutive year. But while children were helping plant the first of three bald cypress trees in Constitution Park on April 30, across town in Vanderburgh (Turtle) Park, a crew from Evergreen Arborists was taking down one of the Village’s oldest trees that had succumbed to Dutch elm disease.

The large elm tree in Turtle Park was more than 100 years old.

As the park is just across the street, I’ve been able to watch from my front porch the accelerating loss of trees in the park. Five years ago in a letter to then-Mayor Ken Bialo I wrote:

In the past two years, several large trees have been removed from Turtle Park ― trees that provided welcome shade to the toddlers using the playground as well as others who come to rest, read, and relax in the shade provided on hot summer days. These trees were grand old trees, some more than 75 feet high and some more than a century old. (The tree removed at the entrance to the park across from our house had more than 120 rings).

I urged the Mayor to plant more trees, not ones with quick-growing with short life spans, but large trees that would shade future generations.

Fifteen years ago, when I co-chaired the Village of Larchmont’s Parks and Trees Committee, we received a grant to plant trees along the Manor’s tree-named streets. Walk along Elm, Oak, Willow, Chestnut and other Larchmont Manor streets, and you’ll see these trees which are growing into beautiful specimens.

Jan Feinman, the current chair of the Village Parks and Trees Committee, has been doing a wonderful job as steward of our Village’s trees. Under her leadership the Village hired a certified arborist to inspect our trees and embarked on a proactive campaign to prune them of diseased limbs. And so, sad as I was to see the elm tree felled, I was glad that the decision had been made appropriately.

As the arborist explained to me, the effects of the Dutch elm disease could already be seen in the Turtle Park tree’s crown. The crown often shows the first sign of this fatal and infectious disease. Pulling a piece of bark off one of the pieces of trunk laying on the ground, he showed how the fungus was affecting the wood and providing easy access to insects. Removing the tree before the disease spread to other trees was the only option, he explained.

It’s a never-ending battle to replace old trees that are damaged in storms or must be taken down because of disease, and, in this economic climate, funds are limited. Ms. Feinman estimated only 30-40 trees will be planted on Village property this year unless Village residents take advantage of a new program to donate funds for additional plantings.

Trees can be donated for $650, which includes the tree, delivery and labor, planting materials, and a plaque with information about the tree, the donor and the honoree, if requested. While donors can request a type of tree and location for the planting, the final decision is made by the Parks and Trees Committee and the Department of Public Works.

For more information or to donate a tree, please email the Village Clerk at villageclerk@villageoflarchmont.org with “Parks and Trees Committee as the subject.

Childhood innocence can still exist in Larchmont

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Mon, 03 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000

A wonderful story in today's New York Times involving two Larchmont residents: Jason Bay, the new Mets fielder, and 11 year-old Gabriel Tugend, who lives near the Village's newest celebrity resident.

As his Mother wrote,

I found something sweetly old-fashioned about all this. Gabriel wrote the note without any parental interference. He and his friends could walk past the home of a player on their favorite team, and it wasn’t a fancy mansion behind security gates. With the various scandals and multimillion-dollar salaries that sour many people on professional sports, it was redeeming to see their enthusiasm and hopes.

The story gets even better - but I won't spoil it for you.

Read it and smile.

Starting from seed

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Sat, 01 May 2010 13:10:00 +0000

Inspired by Monica Flaherty, whom I wrote about in the Larchmont Gazette, I decided to bite the bullet this year and get a head start on my garden by starting some plants from seed.

Scouting out the seeds available from Tony's Nursery, Stop and Shop and Home Depot, I picked up the usual suspects: lettuce, cucumbers and spinach. And then there was the basil seed, ready to be watered, in a small pot that I'd picked up at a Christmas Tree Shop several months ago.

While Monica doesn't believe in using peat pellets, preferring to start everything in larger cups, I had bought some pellets on sale at the end of the 2009 gardening season, so I decided to use them. Sure enough, within days, the seeds had sprouted, and I was hooked.

Soon the shelf in my office was overtaken by seedlings. Inspired by my success, I went back to Tony's and picked up zinnias and impatiens. I began imagining that I'd have enough plants from a single $1.69 packet of seeds for the entire garden.

The cucumbers did beautifully. Soon they were transplanted into cups (Monica, you're right!). As their tendrils began to develop I put in small stakes and now they're almost ready for transplanting.

The lettuce and spinach did well, too. They're early crops, so I transplanted them into the garden where they joined rows I'd planted directly in the soil. Unforunately half of them were washed away by heavy rains just a few days later.

The zinneas are also several inches high, but the impatiens are disappointing.

And the tomatoes really didn't do well, so I picked up a few small plants on my latest swing through the garden store and they're thriving in the morning sun that floods the window.

Unfortunately, morning sun is just about all the sun these windows get, and the plants really need more light. When I visited Monica and photographed her seedlings, they had taken over her dining room table. She has since moved them into another room, where she built a shelf for the plants and lights. If I'm going to continue on this path, I'll need to make an investment.

Today's going to be in the 80s, and I'm tempted to start transplanting. But the last frost date in our area is May 9, according to Victory Seeds, so I'll just bide my time and let them enjoy the morning sun that floods my office for a few more days.

Help a needy Mom this Mother's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 16:28:00 +0000

We never celebrated Mother’s Day when we were growing up. My mother used to say, “You should love me every day, not just one day a year.” So while my friends were busy buying cards and gifts and going out for dinner, I pretty much let the day go by like any other Sunday.

When I had children of my own we pretty much followed the same practice, although by then I’d relaxed a bit and appreciated the breakfast in bed they’d bring me.

Now that my children have children of their own, however, and I see the way they and their spouses are raising them, I’ve got an entirely new appreciation for the idea behind the celebration. Raising children isn’t easy, and in these harried times, taking some time to stop and say “You’re a great Mom” is a good idea.

That’s why this year I’ve made a donation to Furniture Sharehouse in honor of my daughter Amy Grotta, and daughter-in-law Aeron Noe. Furniture Sharehouse, if you’re not familiar with it, collects gently used furniture and redistributes it to needy families in Westchester. This Mother’s Day you can download a card made by a child in a homeless shelter and send it to those you love. It’s the least I can do to let these moms know that someone cares.

A knitting celebration

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 20:30:00 +0000

Last night I joined more than 30 other women who knit to celebrate the 30th anniversary of The Silver Canvas, Larchmont’s knitting store. And all of us, as the invitation suggested, were wearing our own creations. (See the story on The Larchmont Patch).

It was absolutely delightful! From simple scarves to elegant evening sweaters, the creations were imaginative, beautiful and – most important, as they all were created under the tutelage of Alice Giupta, owner of The Silver Canvas -- they fit perfectly.

I learned to knit when I was five and, except for a few years between high school and children, I’ve been knitting ever since. Now most of my knitting is for my four grandchildren (my goal is one sweater per child, per year) and it was only this year that I decided to make something for myself.

The sweater that I’m wearing (and which I wore to Alice’s party) is the Anhinga pattern by Norah Gaughan. I thank my friend Vicki for prompting me to try the pattern. It’s quickly become my all time favorite pattern.

For me, knitting is a wonderful way to relax, rating second only to gardening.

I find that I when I’m knitting I “think without thinking” about things that are bothering me. The soothing click-click of the needle, the steady lengthening of the item, are a soothing mantra.

If you’ve not yet tried it, stop in at The Silver Canvas and ask Alice when her next set of classes begin. Of give me a call and I’ll give you a hand.

Cookin' Easy

noreply@blogger.com (Emily Grotta) — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 20:50:00 +0000

This being the start of Passover, the kitchens of many people I know have been a real beehive over the past few days. Into the tumult comes some welcome relief. So if you’ve not yet had a chance to read today’s “Editorial Observer” in the NY Times, put the spoon down and take a gander. And, if you have the chance, look at the video on YouTube.

In this age, when Julia Child’s cookbook is all the rage again and The Food Channel seems to be the most popular choice every time I fly Jet Blue, Laban Johnson and Larry Bly remind us that cooking can be fun and doesn’t need to be a full-day affair. Or, as Lawrence Downes writes in the piece,

“Perfection belongs to God, not us, the Southern writer
Flannery O’Connor would have told you, her eyes boring holes in yours
as she poured Coca-Cola in her coffee.”

Gotta love it.

Happy Passover, Easter, or whatever it is you’re cooking for this week.