Snap Beans and a Little Cooking Philosophy

Not green beans.  Not plain old beans.  Snap beans.  That's what we always called them growing up, and that's what I call them still.  I'm sure my French Creole ancestors called them haricots verts, but their twentieth century counterparts have always referred to them as the above.  They are snap beans because you have to snap off the ends, at least if they are fresh, which mine happily were.  Instead of the proverbial midlife crisis, my father planted a garden.  And then he made a bigger garden.  And finally an even bigger garden.  He grows all the best of South Louisiana, including the delicious Creole tomato, my favorite variety of tomatoes.  We have a long growing season here, and my dad takes advantage of it.  Right now he has lettuce just coming up and sugar snap peas starting to bloom.  But back to the snap bean, that crunchy, green delicacy.  Here is how I cooked my snap beans on Sunday evening:

1/2 lb of green beans
1 slice of bacon, cut up (I kept it at one because I was trying to keep down the fat, but you could go for more)
balsamic vinegar
salt
pepper

Fry down the bacon.  (I used my wok, but you could use whatever is convenient.)  Throw in the beans and toss around with the bacon.  Add balsamic vinegar; I used about a quarter to a third of a cup, but you can do it according to your personal taste.  Cover and cook on medium heat for 10-15 minutes (less for al dente beans, more for beans with less bite).

Can you tell I am all about personal freedom in cooking?  Be aware of the main rules of cooking (don't put red wine in the fridge, use wine that you would drink while cooking, salt your pasta water, etc.) and then build upon them.  By main rules, I mean most basic tenets.  Truly, there are only a few from which you cannot deviate.  If you've mastered the basics, you can start breaking the smaller, more inconsequential rules.  You can experiment, add, subtract, and multiply ingredients.  The key is to know your own palate and that of your family and to create dishes that suit those needs.

(Sorry for the awful picture.  I forgot to take a photo right after cooking and wound up using my camera while sitting at my desk eating during lunch at work the next day.)

A ROOM OF ONE'S OWN

Virginia Woolf once said that a woman needs a room of her own to write.  She needs a place of refuge from the hectic nature of the world---the babies crying, the dirty dishes, the waiting bills, and perhaps even---perhaps especially---the judgment and contempt of those of the opposite sex who deem themselves far too erudite to stoop to read her work.  Woolf is just one of the many great female writers the world has seen thus far.  Why is it important that women in the past took up their pens and put ink to paper, why it is crucial that women today put fingers to keys?  Why do the achievements of such great women as Jane Austen, George Eliot, and Charlotte Bronte remain so pivotal over a century after they first sought publication?  Why must women continue to be women of letters, whether those strung together letters become words and whole thoughts on blogs, in essays, newspapers, e-mails, letters, magazines, memoirs, biographies, autobiographies, poems, and novels?  Because of misguided and delusional men like V. S. Naipaul.  Have you heard of him?  I tend to doubt it.  Have you heard of Jane Austen or Charlotte Bronte? I would certainly think so.  Perhaps there is a good reason for this.

What can you do to combat the misogynistic, backward, ignorant views aired by the Trinidadian Nobel laureate?  Pick up one of the masterpieces of these great authors.  They are literary greats who just happen to be women.  They wrote about issues close to women's (and men's) hearts---love, death, social mores, family, ambition, greed, honor, religion, and forgiveness.  Open their books and let their words come pouring out, letting each woman live through her words long after she was buried in the churchyard.  Lose yourself in the majesty of these great works.  When you close their covers, I guarantee that not only will you have been moved, but that you will also be amazed by what you have discovered about yourself and your world.

HOT TIMES, SUMMER IN THE CITY

The thermostat will not go below 79 degrees.  This is actually an improvement compared to the 80 degrees a few hours earlier.  My poor air conditioning is running non-stop.  I even broke down and dusted so that I could put on the ceiling fan.  It helps recirculate the air but doesn't bring down the temperature.  Let's hope the new drapes I just purchased help.  They are blackout/thermal lined.  This is going to be a long summer!!!

Here's the fabric.  I ironed the first two panels for the living room window but still need to do the other two for the dining room.  I love it because it combines robin's egg blue (LOVE) and terra cotta (WARM).  My walls are cream, so I wanted something with a pattern to liven up the room.  It's Brittany Rose by Pottery Barn.

Reading To-Do List

I have a BA in English literature.  Before I acquired that, I had an unofficial degree in voracious reading.  I was the child with the flashlight and a novel under the sheets.  Or kneeling on the ground, book open, close up to the night light.  Most of my life has been dedicated to American literature.  Now I have fallen in love with the British.  I love British literature and have certain life goals when it comes to my reading.  I want to read the greats of British literature, the classics, the masterpieces!  Here is how far I have come and how far I have yet to go.  Don't you think it's pretty ambitious?  Thank goodness I have the rest of my life to accomplish this feat.

CHARLES DICKENS   

A Christmas Carol  ---  read it


A Tale of Two Cities  ---  read it


Barnaby Rudge


Bleak House  ---  read it


David Copperfield  ---  read it


Dombey and Sons


Great Expectations  ---  read it


Hard Times  ---  read it


Little Dorrit


Martin Chuzzlewit


Nicholas Nickleby


Oliver Twist  ---  read it


Our Mutual Friend


The Old Curiosity Shop


Pictures from Italy


American Notes


The Uncommon Traveller


Sketches by Boz


A Child's History of England


The Mystery of Edwin Drood


Christmas Stories

JANE AUSTEN


Northanger Abbey


Pride and Prejudice  --- read it


Sense and Sensibility  --- read it


Mansfield Park  ---  half way read it, must re-read in full


Emma  --- read it


Persuasion  ---  read it


CHARLOTTE BRONTE


Jane Eyre  ---  read it


Shirley


Villette


The Professor


ANNE BRONTE


Agnes Grey  ---  read it


The Tenant of Wildfell Hall  ---read it


EMILY BRONTE


Wuthering Heights ---  read it


ELIZABETH GASKELL


Mary Barton


Cranford  --- read it


Ruth


North and South


My Lady Ludlow  --- read it


Sylvia's Lovers


Wives and Daughters


GEORGE ELIOT


Middlemarch


Daniel Deronda


Adam Bede


The Mill on the Floss


Silas Marner --- read it


THOMAS HARDY


Far From the Madding Crowd


The Return of the Native  ---  read it


The Mayor of Casterbridge


Tess of the d'Urbervilles


Jude the Obscure


MARY SHELLEY


Frankenstein


KAZUO ISHIGURO


The Remains of the Day


E. M. FORSTER


Howards End


A Passage to India


A Room with a View


WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY


Vanity Fair


STELLA GIBBONS


Cold Comfort Farm


ANTHONY TROLLOPE


Barchester Towers


The Way We Live Now

David Copperfield

I finished David Copperfield last week.  It was Dickens's favorite of all his novels and considered the most autobiographical work he had ever produced.  This was the first Dickens novel to be narrated in the first person and would pave the way for my favorite of his novels, Great Expectations, also in first person.  This is Freud's favorite novel.  I'm not entirely sure what to make of that, but I know it's indicative of something.  The completion of David Copperfield is part of a larger project I have undertaken.  Almost two years ago, I purchased the collected works of Charles Dickens, the goal being to read every word he ever wrote.  Growing up, I read Great Expectations, A Tale of Two Cities, Oliver Twist, and A Christmas Carol.  Earlier this year, I read Bleak House, which I loved.

I first encountered David Copperfield when I was three years old and in a very circumvented way.  In fact, I was completely unaware that I had encountered Dickens at all; it was not until many years later that I even realized that I had undergone such an early exposure.  My mother made the ultimately life shaping decision of letting me watch Gone With the Wind at the tender age of three, thereby ensuring a lifelong preoccupation with the subject and a bit of melodrama that no amount of efforts in humility could break.  (Neither here nor there when it comes to Copperfield.)  During the scene when Scarlett's second husband Frank Kennedy and Ashley were going through the shanty town to find the man who had earlier attempted to attack her and to "clear it out," Scarlett, Melanie, and a host of other ladies sat around sewing and pretending that their husbands were at a "political meeting."  Melanie decided to read.  I will never forget the sound of her voice, "Chapter One, I am born. . ."  And a few chapters later "I passed a memorable birthday. . ."  And upon the banging on the door, "I remember nothing. . ."  What book was she reading?  Why, David Copperfield!  Twenty-six years after first encountering the scene, I encountered the words on the page when I opened one of Dickens's most famous works.  And I was not disappointed.

Entirely random and (I'm afraid) not particularly profound thoughts upon the completion of Charles Dickens's David Copperfield:

*  Dickens routinely outdoes himself in the amazing characters he creates.  This book was no exception. From the no-nonsense, high strung, amazingly liberated aunt Betsy Trotwood screaming at donkeys while chasing them with brooms to the bombastic, forever insolvent, and absolutely hilarious Mr. Micawber---I can't begin to describe the characters.  Each character would warrant pages of explanation. They are so developed, so unique, yet so universally sympathetic at the same time.  And of course, he always gives some of the best names.  Obviously a man named Uriah Heep was born to be a villain.

*I have never encountered a more favorable---in fact jubilant account---of being forced into circumstances that warranted a relocation to the penal colony of Australia.

*David's nurse, Peggoty, stands as one of the most beloved, nurturing characters in all of literature, while still managing to be comical.

*How convenient that Dora dies so that David could be with the woman he was truly meant to marry.  How nice to be able to kill off young, naive first wives when it suits the plot.

*This novel actually features a dog named Jip who walks up and down the top of the dinner table---as in between the plates---and lives in a doghouse made to resemble a Chinese pagoda.  This dog also curiously meets its demise simultaneously as his mistress does (one of the only disappointing moments of over sentimentality on Dickens's part).

*Copperfield's best friend and sidekick, Traddles, could possibly cause one to laugh out loud, particularly towards the end of the novel when he finally weds "the dearest girl of all" and then proceeds to spend their honeymoon catering to her nine sisters.

*When I read about David's travels, I long to see the cathedral in Canterbury and the cliffs of Dover, not to mention St. Paul's as is featured on Peggoty's sewing kit.

*I had no idea that rooks were birds.  They were featured prominently in this text, and since learning this, I have encountered references to rooks no less than 14 other times in other venues.

*How interesting that David's father marries a "child-wife" and that David goes on to initially do the same.

*The description of the forays of David's servants is laugh out loud funny.  They blatantly steal from him, and yet David tells it as if it is all an inevitability and truly stemming from his own character flaws.

*Who wouldn't wish to be Agnes?  Really?

*You feel for David, from the first page to the last.  You pull for him every step of the way.  I know how NOT post-modern it is and how lacking in sophistication it is for me to admit this, but I love a good hero you can get behind.  David is most certainly that.

Dwelling Places

Father's homily last Sunday centered around John 14:2.

In my Father's house there are many dwelling places.

Father pointed out that each of us has a place in Heaven prepared for us by God if we choose to open our hearts to Jesus.  But he also pointed out that Jesus's name is Emmanuel---God WITH us.  He is with us here on earth, too, and provides dwelling places for us here as well.  These dwelling places are special places of peace where we can be at one with Him and feel Him more deeply than ever.  It's a place where we can be close to God and feel most comfortable speaking to Him with an open heart.  Father encouraged every one of us to seek out a place like this.  The act of seeking a special dwelling place such as this will also ensure that we set aside time every day to have conversations with Jesus.  Whether it's sitting out on the swing on a front porch watching the world go by, crabbing at the lake, a special chair, a ride on the ferry, or playing the piano, we all need a place where we can connect with God on an intimate level.  He asked us to think of where that place was for us personally and to truly make an effort to dwell in that place as much as possible.

My special dwelling place would have to be the park.  The joy of seeing God in nature is sometimes unbearable for me; I can't contain it---I want to cry, sing out, run after my puppy in sheer ecstasy!  Joy is everywhere at the park, and God's love shows itself in so many ways.  Fathers teaching their children to ride bikes.  Mothers with babies feeding the ducks.  Friends sharing conversation.  Not to mention the beauty of enormous oaks, the budding of knockout roses and hydragneas, swans and ducks floating over the water, birds tending to their nests, trees soaring up high, reaching their branches to the sky, gloriously waving to God.  And a sweet little puppy looking up at me adoringly, a huge grin on his face for being in this place, at this time.  My little dog reminds me to cherish the gifts God gives me in the moment, at this place in my life, embracing the present.  All of the things I encounter in the park hearken back to the essence of what Father was trying to tell us.  EMMANUEL.  God with us.

He most certainly is.  Every single day.  If we just open our eyes.

Tomatoes!

For a single girl like me, purchasing an entire sack of vine ripened tomatoes is a bit of a commitment.  Or a waste.  Whichever you'd prefer.  A commitment to either eat them all---and quickly---or to waste them.  It's so hard planning meals just for you.  You wind up cooking way too much food and tiring of eating it over five days, or not wanting to cook at all.  And I love to cook, so it's always sad when I resign myself to take out simply because it's "just me."  So what to do with the tomatoes. . .SANDWICHES!  Lunch was a grilled cheese sandwich, with a twist.  I used mozzarella cheese, lots of fresh basil leaves, and tomatoes.  A sandwich take on the Caprese salad.  Dinner was an enormous BLT with corn on the cob, fresh not frozen. . .yum.  (Btw. . .I had tomatoes on both sides of the sandwich and used 2 tomatoes on it.)

I try to find those sweet, little things that make me smile; there are so many of them that they often add up to a pretty BIG thing in a day if I let them.  Something happened today that really made me smile.  One of my little girls drew a picture for another one of my little girls.  Walking by the desk of the recipient, I found that she was writing her a sort of notebook paper thank you note:

"[Name] your drawing was so pretty it belongs in an art muzeum"

How sweet and smart is that?!

Also, I said the rosary yesterday, and I intend to say the rosary again today.  It brought me so much peace and helped me to relax after a stressful day.  Of course, it helped me relax so much that I almost fell asleep!  Not a good thing at only 7 p.m.!  Looking forward to the school year coming to its natural end, but I'm going to miss my kids so much.  I don't think it's really hit me yet that they aren't going to be mine anymore.