They are risen...

Legend has it that a 12th century Angilican monk put the sign of the cross on buns that were baked to honor Good Friday, and that’s when the first Hot Cross Buns entered the Easter celebration scene. Every year since, these soft, yeasty, spiced and fruited buns rise up during Lent, are glorified at Easter, then disappear for another year. In Hot Cross Bun vernacular, “they are risen” is a fitting declaration of the season!

As with many holiday recipes, Hot Cross Buns have a plethora of variations. We set about to find some favorites and here are this year's Santa Rosa/Healdsburg picks (listed alphabetically):

Cavaliere's Bakery ($2.25) Santa Rosa:

Appearance:  Round with lemon gel cross. Lots of fruit visible on the surface. 

Texture:   Yeast raised dough, a little denser than Panettone. Not as light as other hot cross buns, but density has a nice mouthfeel.

Aroma:  Slightly lemony.

Characteristics:  No noticeable spices. Lots of raisins and candied fruit. Good lemony flavor.

Evaluation:   Lemon note is a nice highlight. Very nice!

Costeaux Bakery ($2.50) Healdsburg:

Appearance:  Almost round, but slightly squarish shape. Uniform medium toasty color with satiny crust. Sweet custard-like cross with additional thin zigzaggy drizzle of sugar glaze. 

Texture:   Medium texture, slightly chewier than a Panettone. It was served at room temp, but would have benefited from being warmed up - a little softer that way.

Aroma:  Gently sweet and yeasty.

Characteristics:  Mildly sweet yeasty flavor to match aroma. White dough, richer, sweeter than bread rolls. No pronounced spice. Sparse candied fruit and raisins throughout which gives a nice, every-now-and-then burst of fruity flavor. Nice with coffee. Good dunkability, but not too long or it gets too soggy. 

Evaluation:   Straight-ahead, mainstream good.

Downtown Bakery* ($2.00)  Healdsburg:

Appearance:  Smaller than others, more rectangular. Overall darker toasty color. Cross is thick white frosting, drawn like flat overlapping ribbons. 

Texture: Yeasty dough, more raised; a light and airy poof. 

Aroma:  Mildly sweet & spicey

Characteristics:  Simple and clean. Predominant flavor is cardamom, cinnamon & possibly nutmeg. Contains currants and small bits of orange peel. Not overly sweet with a slight salty finish. Frosting cross adds a nice sweetness.

Evaluation:  * This bun was Ted’s favorite this year. 

(Interesting because last year the Downtown version was waaay too salty and rated the lowest on our 2015 scale. Someone musta got the message — now they are wonderful!)

Michelle Marie's ($2.75) Santa Rosa:

Appearance:  Rectangular with an eggy, lemony custard cross. Medium toasty color. Raisins peeking out of shiney top crust. Texture:  Soft, beigy dough (color due to more whole wheat?) Flecks of spice.

Aroma:  Spicy aroma

Characteristics:  Reminiscent of Christmas spices - cinnamon, clove and orange. Raisins and orange peel throughout. Not overly sweet. 

Evaluation: A tasty, conventional bun.

Village  Bakery ($2.75) Santa Rosa: 

Appearance:  Round, shiney crust with white icing cross, flecked with citrus (orange?) peel. Fruit pokes through, and slightly crisps and caramelizes on the surface when baked. Nice medium toast color.

Texture:  Yeast-risen, but firmer than some of the others. Specks of spice throughout dough. Similar dough to Michelle Marie’s, but chewier.

Aroma:  Yeasty and spicy.

Characteristics:  Most complex spice mix (Cardamom? Coriander? Mace? Nutmeg?) and most interesting fruit mix with dried apricot, raisins, and cranberries. 

Evaluation: Nice variation on the fruit. Quite enjoyed this one!

There were other bakeries we wanted to try, but honestly, we kinda OD'd on sweet dough this year, so figured we'd just have to leave those others for next year. Lookin' forward to that!

España parte 2

Monday

Breakfast around the coffee table in the living room: fruit salad, eggs, bacon and toast. Bob tells us that when he and Marni go to a new city, they like to take a city bus tour to get the lay of the land. We all think that is a good idea.

Parc Guell
We find a bus just up the street and sit on the upper deck. The bus tour commentary isn’t particularly inspired, but the sights make up for it. Everywhere your eyes land, beauty is there. About half way through the bus tour we hop off at Carmel Hill to head up to Parc Guell, a park named for it’s creator, Count Eusebi Guell. The park was designed by Antoni Gaudi in the early 1900s. Gaudi lived in a house on the property the last 20 years of his life till his death in 1926. It is now a Gaudi museum. The view from the Parc is spectacular. You can see all the way to the ocean...

Petit Comité
We hop back on the bus and tour back to our apartment. That night we have a date with Petit Comité, a Catalan cuisine restaurant recommended by Bob and Marni’s chef friend, Erez Levy. 

(http://www.petitcomite.cat/en/catalan-cuisine-restaurant-center-barcelona/)

Rested and freshened up, we walk to the restaurant in anticipation of a great meal. Petit Comité is run by Michelin-starred chef, Nandu Jubany and who is touted as a food-lover's benchmark in haute cuisine. We are formally escorted into a private room with a large round table set with fine linens and dinnerware. Erez was right. The food does not disappoint:

Paper thin slices of crispy pork cheek

Mushroom soup with caramelized onion and blood sausage (below)

Small round loaves of crusty bread with Spanish olive oil

Anchovy stuffed olives

Ham croquettes

Codfish fritters

Asparagus, eggplant, red peppers, anchovies with Romesco sauce

Veal steak - Bob

Veal Fricassee - Peggy

Monkfish - Marni and Bart

Pig trotters - Wally

Hake - Ted

Red tuna - Chris

Desserts:

Grilled caramelized pineapple with coconut ice cream

Rum Baba

Cheese plate

Chocolate birthday cake (Bart and Bob’s birthdays)

Lemon marshmallow

Chocolate Squares

Olive cake

As the evening progresses, the formal waitstaff becomes a little looser and friendlier. By the end of the meal, our waiter, José, is smiling and making jokes right along with us. 

Just before we leave he says, “Can you guys keep a secret?” 

“Of course we can!” 

“Well don’t tell anyone,” he looks over his shoulder mysteriously, “but did you know that this building used to be a hospital?” 

We shake our heads “no.” 

“It was a hospital,” he repeats. The he lowers his voice, raises an eyebrow and says, “And this restaurant? It used to be ... the MORGUE!”

His delivery is so dramatic, we all burst out laughing, including José. It's the perfect end to a fabulous day as we walk back to our Dracula apartment in the middle of the night.

(Más blogging to come...)

España, allá vamos! (Spain, here we come!)

Spain took us by surprise. Despite a year’s worth of planning, researching online, reading books and watching Spanish food shows on TV, it turned out that the experience of this sensuous country could not be learned, it had to be felt.

Flying through the air with the greatest of ease. Or not. 

After way too many hours flying through the air in a crowded aluminum tube, a sprint through the enormous Frankfurt airport to catch our connection, then more air time, Ted and I get off the plane in Barcelona, wonky and excited. We take a taxi to the apartment that we will share with 3 other couples, all friends we have known for years. Our cabbie speaks little English, and we try to communicate with our limited Spanish. His charm foretells the friendliness of people we will meet in weeks to come.

The Pod ABOVE PHOTO Left to right: 

Top row-Wally and Chris
Middle row-Peggy and Marni
Bottom row-Ted, Shauna, Bob, Bart

Marni and Bob
When people say, “All the world’s a stage”, Bob is a living example. A long-time creative force in the advertising biz, he’s truly one of the funniest men we know. If you’re familiar with the Calvin and Hobbes comic strip, then Bob fits Calvin to a tee. Marni, formerly a model and artist rep, is an elegant, irreverent blonde with wicked smarts who keeps Bob on his toes (us too!). 

Chris and Bart
Copper-haired Chris, affectionately called "Booty" (her last name is Boutee) an advertising copywriter turned book editor, is a master of one-liners delivered with a twinkle and a wry smile. Bart is a sweetheart of a guy. A recently retired railroad man, and fountain of martini knowledge (especially gin) he keeps us well-lubricated.

Shauna and Wally
Wally, a urologist in Utah and all around mensch, has hilarious stories about his practice in Mormon-ville ­­— things you wouldn’t believe, and couldn’t make up if you tried. And Shauna. Do we love Shauna, or what?! Once a nurse (that’s how she met Wally), and an avid animal lover, she is truly one of those people who would give you the shirt off her back.

Peggy and Ted
Well ... if you're reading this blog ... you know us by now. ; D

Sound like a fun bunch? 
You got that RIGHT!

Bram Stoker lived here.
Or at least it felt like he did. Months before our journey, when Chris saw the photos of our Barcelona apartment online, she dubbed it the “Dracula” apartment. It did have a mysterious vibe ­— complete with unexplained bumps and noises in the night. Oh. Could that be one of us trying to the find the bathroom in the "wee" hours after waaaay too much wine? Prolly.

Our first outing.

We all unpack, and drag our jet-lagged carcasses out into the night to find something to eat. Barcelona is ALIVE at night. Cars honking, people laughing, eating, drinking and having a helluva good time. None of us know where we we're going, but we're all hungry, so we stop at a neighborhood Taverna close by. We sit in the back room with a party of artsy, dread-locked bohos, celebrating a birthday with tapas and beer. The Birthday Queen had an unusually long face with huge (really huge!) black painted lips. Did we just walk into a Pedro Almodovar movie? 

What jet lagged Pod People eat for their first meal in Barcelona at Taberna de la Ronda cerbeceria:

http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g187497-d1820413-Reviews-La_Taberna_de_la_Ronda-Barcelona_Catalonia.html 

Estrella beer

White and Red wine

Tomato rubbed toast

Jamón

Octopus

Shrimp

Dinner was nice, simple, nuthin' to write home about, but amply filled the corners. Their Estrella light beer became a favorite throughout the trip. After dinner we decide to get groceries for the next few days, so off we go to an underground marketplace nearby where we pick up fruit, yogurt, bread, jam and Manchego (a salty sheep cheese.) Learning Curve! — Chris gets to the checkout counter and discovers that we are supposed to weigh and label the fruit before getting to the register. We are all exhausted and don’t want to go back to the scales, so we leave the fruit behind. No biggie. The call to bed is bigger than the call for pineapple.

Anyway...

Got “home” okay.

Put the groceries away.

Hit the hay. 

Yay.


Sunday
Yawn. Big stretch. It’s morning and we are in Barcelona! 
We enjoy a leisurely breakfast of fruit salad, yogurt, toast, Manchego and jam. The guys brew great coffee, it’s around noonish and we are ready to venture out. 
Oh wait. Bart can’t find his wallet. 
There is a big steel safe in the living room. It’s not there. 
Searching, searching...
“Bart, is it in another pair of pants?”
“Bart, did it fall on the floor somewhere?”
“Bart, is it under the couch cushions maybe?”
Everyone is looking everywhere.
After a while Bart comes out of his bedroom. 
He shrugs. 
“Uh. Sorry guys. It was in my back pocket.”

Las Ramblas
We decide to walk Las Ramblas to the coast. Las Ramblas is a beautiful tree-lined promenade mixed with lots of street-side cafés, bars, shops, souvenir kiosks, and historic buildings. We have been warned about pickpockets and are being careful. 

A commotion catches our attention, and Shauna points to a high balcony. 
“Hey! Look up there!” 
Above us a voluptuous Marilyn Monroe look-alike waves and coos, her skirt undulating in a (fan-driven) wind. Huh? Waaait a minute. Her legs look a little too muscular and ... HAIRY! Marilyn is a GUY! We are suddenly on guard. Is he/she a distraction so pickpockets can do their work? No, no, Marilyn is just a living advertisement for a sex shop next door. Ooh La La! Laughing, we head on down the promenade to the ocean. 

The sea air is breezy and the gentle sound of waves soothes and clears our heads. We all agreed it could easily be Hammock Time by the ocean, but we decide not to linger and go find some lunch. Wandering narrow back streets in the Barrio Gotic (old town), graffiti is everywhere. But not ordinary graffiti. Most of it is beautifully, artfully done in a graphic novel sort of style. 

Bliss
Still on those back streets in the old part of town, Bob finds us a wonderful little tapas bar for lunch. Bliss. 
That was the name of it. Bliss. And it was. 
http://www.blissbarcelona.es/en/#
Food:
Paella, a good one!
Veal Carpaccio
Salad with prunes and tuna
Salad with mozzarella, sun-dried tomatos and tempanade
And of course, beer and wine.

After lunch, we wander back. A distant operatic voice echoes from narrow passageways. The song grows louder until we find ourselves in a small square with a Botero-like woman wrapped in a black shawl, belting out “O sole mio!” Across the square, a young tenor responds in harmony. Exquisito!

Music is everywhere here. And it’s GOOD music. In the main plaza in front of the Gothic Cathedral de Barcelona, an antique flea market lures us in. Off to the side, beautiful guitar playing provides a background soundtrack. Further down the road, a man sits on a rickety folding chair and plays “Lucia” like I’ve never heard before. Well, I’ve never actually heard that song before, but his singing is so soulful it felt like I’ve known it forever.

Restaurant Etapes
Okay, on to dinner. Earlier that day, Natalie, the manager for the Dracula apartment, recommended Etapes Restaurant which is walking distance. (http://www.restaurantetapes.com/?page_id=21&lang=en) 
On our way, a light drizzle drifts down and by the time we are inside the restaurant, it is full-on raining. Strangely, at that moment, a rain-drenched pizza delivery guy stands on the threshold of the restaurant, trying to deliver pizza to someone inside. Huh? (Wrong address for sure!)

Dining at Etapes is delicious on lots of levels. Seated at a large square table in the front window, we enjoy (not a complete list):
Salad
Foie gras
Paella
Suckling Pig
Fresh Fish
Martini’s, cava and wine.
Dessert:
Pineapple soup
Red (berry) soup
Tiramisu
Mojito ice cream
Brandy

Didac
We are also treated to the very entertaining, Didac, partner in the restaurant and consummate story-teller. He tells us about working so hard at the restaurant last year that he had burnt out and become depressed. To help, his mother gave him a pill of some kind, but he didn’t like it. So he decided to go backpacking. Across Canada. In the dead of winter. 

Bob and Wally are from Canada, and Shauna has spent a lot of time there, so when Didac began telling us about the towns he went through, they kept saying “Oh yeh, we know that town,” or “Oh sure! We lived there.” 

Each acknowledgment fanned the flame of Didac’s story telling. You could see his thoughts coming so fast that his mouth could hardly keep up with them. Didac believed that his adventurous attitude is what kept him safe and moving to wherever he wanted to go. He eventually hooked up with a guy who had a specific model car (like a vintage ‘93 Dodge or something) that Didac had seen in a dream. He told the guy he wanted to go to Mexico where his girlfriend was, and the guy said, “Hmmmm. I always wanted to go to Mexico. Let’s go!” Off they went. By the time Didac met up with his girlfriend in Mexico he was no longer burnt out and depressed. He was ready to go back to Spain and back to work. Lucky for us he did!

Back at Dracula House
The rain stopped when we finished eating and were ready to leave. Perfect timing. At the apartment we get into our jammies, and sit around the big black coffee table talking. Coffee table talk unwinds us. Bonds us. Creates a sense of family. Earlier that day around that table, I told everyone about my “lazy” eye. If I look down, then look up, one lid doesn’t raise as quickly as the other, especially when I’m tired, so it sometimes looks like I’m winking at someone, when I’m not. I’m not aware of the condition, so it’s always surprising when someone is winking back at me. 

Why am I telling you this? Well it’s now past 1:30 in the morning and we’re all still table talking. Bob turns to me and says, “You know that eye thing you told us about? Well BOTH eyes are winking now!” 

G'nite y'all! (wink, wink)

(Next day ... Next blog ...It's coming...)

Warning: Vegeterians may not want to read this.

I have not always been a meat eater. For 13 years I didn’t eat red meat, then one day while meditating at the Vedanta Center in Santa Barbara, I heard a distinct voice say, “Eat meat!” I opened one eye and peeked around the room. Ted sat next to me still meditating. A large painting of Sri Ramakrishna, a vegetarian holy man, looked down from the altar. No one else was there. I closed my eye and pondered.

Eat meat? Not what you’d expect to hear in a Hindu temple, but it was clear as a bell. So hmmmm. Okay. Well you might think I’m crazy, but for whatever reason it just felt right and from that day forward I began eating red meat again. Now I know why.

Sonoma County Meat Company. (http://www.sonomacountymeatco.com)

Not a Hindu temple for sure, but a totally other kind of venerable place if you are of the meat-eating persuasion. Sonoma county natives, Rian Rinn and Jenine Alexander have opened an artisanal, state-of-the-art butcher processing and retail shop in what used to be an old tire store in Roseland. Coming from west Santa Rosa, it’s way down at the eastern most end of Sebastopol Road, past the rusted Acme Wrecking Company sign, right near the Highway 12 overpass. A cute, sparkly little store in an industrial No Man’s Land.   

Ok Meaty Meat Lovers. You’ve just found Mecca. The aroma of sweet smoke greets you in the parking lot and once inside, Jenine’s rosy-cheeked street urchin face has you at “hello.” As you ogle the compact meat case (yes, you will be ooogling!), she chats about how she and Rian had wanted to open a butcher shop for over ten years. Rian’s credentials are long, including a stint at Michelin 3-star restaurant, El Bulli in Catalonia Spain. He can cook and he can cut! These people know what they’re doing.

Mesmerized by the meat case, you’re going to have a tough choice. Their bacon and hams are sweet, salty, smokey—in our opinion the best tasting we’ve had since before too much meat processing, too many chemicals, too much breeding for the masses, killed the flavor of a lot of meat. Coils of their lamb merguez sausages are spiced just right. Little crepinette balls mix lamb, beef and goat encased in a thin mesh of caul fat that melts into sizzly crispness in a hot pan. And their chorizo is done Spanish style, flavored to make you wanna take out your castinets. 

We love this place and can’t seem to stay away. Our freezer is now full of all kinds of meaty delights and we’re wondering how we’re going to eat it all—slowly and with great relish I’m sure!

Fremont Friday

I'm honestly not complaining when I say that I'm getting more pillowy around the middle. I'm actually embracing the fact that working out regularly isn't cuttin' it any more. My doughiness is blooming and oh well. Of course, I could just stop eating so much great food. Hmmmm. (That was a nano-second of consideration.) Nope. I enjoy food too much … making it, thinking about it, eating it.

Take this morning. Ted rolled outta bed early and went to the kitchen for his morning ritual of making coffee and reading the newspaper. I rolled out a little later and went in to give him his usual morning hug. He looked up from the paper and said, "Wanna go to the Fremont Diner for breakfast?"

No brainer.

The Fremont Diner is at the south end of Sonoma County just west of where Hwy 121 and Napa Road meet. Smack in the middle of farmland and vineyards their website says it all. "We get most of our ingredients from the farm out back and the rest from our friends nearby. Always." http://thefremontdiner.com

The thing is, yes, their food is FRESH, but what's crucial is their "better-than-the-best-down-home-momma's-cookin'" way they fix it. Here's what we ate today:

Top Left:

Hangtown Fry with Drake's Bay Oysters

Locals here know that there's a controversy between the government and Drake's Bay 

Oyster Farms in Point Reyes. The Gov wants to shut 'em down. 

You can guess whose side we're on.

Top Right:

Farmer's Toast with Guacamole and Pickled Onions

Looks a little weird in print, but Goodness rules in your mouth!

Bottom Right:

Fried Nutella Pie

Yep. Fried pie filled with warm hazelnut chocolate oobleck. (See Dr. Seuss)

Fremont Diner has indoor and outdoor seating, but we like to sit at the six-stool counter inside and watch Chad Harris (owner) and his "comadres" (Spanish for "friends") do their thang. Cutting fatty fat off the brisket, rolling out tender biscuit dough and mixing up bins of pungent spices they listen to bits and pieces of customers' conversations.

Today Ted and I were talking about how good their coffee is. Without realizing that Chad had heard us, he stopped what he was doing, picked up a bin of ground coffee and brought it over for Ted to see. "Of course, you have to use good beans to start with," he explained. "We use Four Barrel Coffee, but part of making good coffee is in the grind. It has to be somewhere between fine and course." He took a fistful of coffee grounds and rained them off his hand for Ted to see. "The ratio is 1 oz of ground coffee to 12oz of water, and the brew time is important too. In a French press, we tell our customers to let it sit 2-3 minutes before pressing depending on how strong they like it." (Ted likes his at 4 minutes. Full tilt.) Chad's attention to detail is keen. They even warm up the coffee mugs before you're ready to pour. 

See, that's the thing. Chad has this sixth-sense sensitivity to the integrity of every food he touches. It's like he's plugged into some culinary Higher Intelligence out there in the ethers. But without getting too esoteric, his food is just Goodness x a Gazillion.

So what could be finer than to eat at Fremont Diner in the morning?

Nuthin'. 

The Journey of a Lifetime ... Mom's lifetime that is.

Ted's mom turned 90 this year so we thought it would be a great adventure to take her to her birthplace, Portland, Oregon. At 90, Mom's doing pretty well, albeit a little wobbly on her feet and her memory is blurring around the edges. Would she be able to find her old stomping grounds? Would we be able to keep her "steady as she goes"? To be safe, we rented a portable wheelchair for the latter, and her memory actually served us surprisingly well. After a smooth flight and just a little rain, we settled into our BnB, had a nice dinner and went to bed. Lots to explore the next day.

Woke up to a rainy morning, but that's Portland for ya. (Little did we know that the next few days would be the highest rainfall in recorded Portland history for the month of September.) Didn't stop us though as we set out to explore. First stop the Sellwood district in SE Portland where Mom lived until she was 10 or 11. To find her old house, we snailed along, up and down the street where she had lived. Studying house after house she looked for something recognizable. "They all look the same," she said anxiously. "And it's been 80 years since I lived here. I'm just not sure if I can find it." Then she saw a corner building and got excited. "That was the store! It was on the corner where I lived!" We cruised past that landmark as she became more animated and began jabbing her finger at one of the houses. "STOP! STOP! That's IT! That's IT!" She beamed while describing the features of her family home. This one fit her description perfectly.

  

Mom lived in the Sellwood house with her parents, two older half-brothers Darrell and Harold, and full brother Jack. Her face softened as childhood memories began to surface. She told us about:

• The time she unwillingly got her first kiss from Jack's best friend when she was 10 years old. Jack's friend wrestled her to the floor and kissed her and she was "mad as heck!"

• The times they walked over to the Sellwood amusement park. Her older brother Harold was handsome but didn't know it. (We saw photos. He WAS handsome!) Mom said, "He was a beautiful skater and a professional company wanted him to skate with them, but mom wouldn't let him go."

 

• The hot summer nights when Mom used to sleep outside on the front porch. Harold and his high school friends would come home late and she would startle them as they came up the stairs. (She giggles a little when she tells this.)

• The night she and Jack sat on the upstairs landing and cried and cried because they were moving to Midland where her mother had a house and 14 acres from her first marriage. Leaving was sad for them because they dearly loved their Sellwood life.

Mom was born on a houseboat not far from the Sellwood house. It was near California Street where the road dead ends at the Willamette River. There are still houseboats a little further up the river, but hers was no longer there. The family moved to Sellwood when she was 2, so she really has no memory of her houseboat life.

Okay, all this driving around with Memory Lane Radar at full tilt, made us all huuungry! And because the next stop on our journey was driving up north to see Mom's neices, Sharon and Deanna, we thought we should bring them a treat and have a little bite ourselves. Portland's Pearl Bakery is "treat city" and we tanked UP. Baked goods in hand (and some in our tummies), we travelled north, past Scapoose (don't you just want a baseball cap with that name on it?), up to Warren about a half an hour from Portland.

Driving down a beautiful country lane, Sharon and Don, and Deanna and Roland were waiting. Sharon and Deanna are about 10 years apart in age from Mom. They are Mom's brother Harold's kids and because Harold was quite a bit older than Mom, he had children when she was young. Anyway, Deanna had started some genealogy so she brought out tons of old pictures, letters, and documents and spread them out over the dining room table. If family stories came out of a bubble-maker, this bubble-maker was set on HIGH. Mom would pick up a photo here and there, get teary-eyed, sigh and tell a story (or twelve). It was an intimate afternoon in The Way Back Machine and Mom loved it. Sweeet!

Left to right: Mom, Deanna, Sharon

(To be continued)

TDAT

The Day After Thanksgiving.

Driving through the Alexander Valley the day after Thanksgiving, the vineyards reminded me of athletes in the locker room after a big game. Those vines played hard this year; sprouting new canes and grape berries in spring, ripening fruit in summer and being harvested in the fall. Entering into winter they're buck naked, ready for a shower (please let it rain) and a well-deserved rest until next year when they play the game all over again. 

I was thinking about our own cycle of life while sitting around the Thanksgiving table the other night. With growing children and aging parents, time seems to pass forward and backward at the same time. We just love the kids in our lives, and we don't see them on a daily basis, so because of their growing bodies and evolving personalities, it's like being with new little people every time we see them. I find that I'm never quite ready to lose who they were last, so am always strangely surprised at who they become—taller, more communicative, more capable people, charging into their futures.

On the other end of the cycle are The Elders. Same thing. While they deepen into aging bodies and minds-in-flux, their personal dreamworld brings their past into the present, blurring the edges of realities. Each time we're with them we also never know who they will be next—a little frailer, a little more confused, a little less capable, sinking comfortably back into their memories.

Looking at everyone around our Thanksgiving table, I felt the fleetingness of it all and I found myself asking, "What can I do? How can I slow this Time thing down?" In an instant, I heard a voice inside say, "Just surrender—have another piece of pie and enjoy the ride." 

So is that the answer to one of Life's great mysteries? 
"Minced, pumpkin or pecan" ?

As good an answer as any…
Happy TDAT everyone!