Monthly Archives: March 2012

Of Journalism and Cherry Blossoms

24 Saturday Mar 2012

Posted by in Indulgences, The Cultured Life, The Writing Life

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A flowering cherry tree, with the Washington Monument in the background.

Our move to Virginia in 2010 situated us less than two hours from Washington, DC. John and I could visit the city one day each month for the rest of our lives (we plan to live until we’re 100 or so) and still never experience all there is to see in this fascinating metropolis. I have been to Washington exactly four times, including yesterday, and—for the first time in my life—I saw the cherry blossoms in bloom.

We spent the day in the Newseum—an extraordinary pilgrimage that I highly recommend, especially if you find the history of print, broadcast, and digital journalism as fascinating as John and I do. As we walked through the exhibits, I thought that although mine is a small life, and my contributions to the published word have been modest, I’m proud of being a writer.

When I began night school back in the 1970s, right after Watergate, I declared journalism as my initial major—All the President’s Men, the book and the film, were influential factors in my decision. I felt a kinship with so much of what I saw yesterday: actual sections of the Berlin Wall; a recreation of Tim Russert’s NBC bureau office;  the 9/11 Gallery, with front pages from around the world chronicling the day’s tragic events; a sobering memorial to journalists who lost their lives in the line of duty. Journalists play such a crucial role in our society—it’s said that they write the first page of history—and sadly, quite often, they place their own lives in peril to do so.

After we left the Newseum, we took the Metro back to Union Station, where we’d parked our car. Before heading home on the highway, we detoured toward the Tidal Basin, which is where you can see the magnificent cherry trees—gifts from Japan to the United States in the early 20th century. An American journalist had a hand in that, too—Eliza Scidmore, who was the first female board member of the National Geographic Society.

The National Cherry Blossom Festival is going on now through April 27. If you find yourself in our nation’s capital, I hope you’ll have a chance to appreciate at least one beautiful bloom. And a chance to visit the Newseum, too.

Call for Nominees: Help Pick the Next Midlife Second Wife Hall of Fame Inductee

23 Friday Mar 2012

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Who should be the next inductee in The Midlife Second Wives’ Hall of Fame?

Please send me your suggestions—either in the comments below, by email at marci (dot) keyword (at) gmail (dot) com, or on Twitter (@midlife2wife). It would help to include a sentence or two stating why you are nominating this person, and it would also help if the person is generally known. Celebrity isn’t a requirement, but having made a useful, lasting, or positive contribution to society is. We’re looking for role models here. If you feel strongly about nominating someone you know (but who is not known to others), I’ll ask you to include a brief, compelling paragraph supporting your nomination.

Can you nominate a man? You tell me! I don’t want this blog to be gender exclusive. But if you do nominate a man, please include a brief (and yes, compelling) statement as to why he deserves to be in the Midlife Second Wives’ Hall of Fame.

If you’re nominating a woman, she should also be (obviously) a second wife, but I’m relaxing the rules enough to allow you to nominate someone who might have been married eight times. (Can you say Elizabeth Taylor? Given the odds, she was bound to be at least one of her husband’s second wives.) By that example, you may infer that your nominee need not be a living person. Posthumous inductions are allowed and encouraged.

Who gets to decide who’s in? You do! When we have five on the list, you’ll rank them. The one with the most votes will be the next inductee. The remaining nominees will be placed on a future ballot, so if your nominee doesn’t make it the first time around, there will be other voting opportunities.

Questions? Confusions? Suggestions? Please send those to me, too.

Now make your voice and your choice known! Take a moment to honor someone with a nomination to the Midlife Second Wives’ Hall of Fame.

(It’s kind of like the GOP primaries, but without all the sniping.)

Lasagna Casserole with Meat and Red Wine Sauce

22 Thursday Mar 2012

Posted by in Food for Thought

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As someone who prides herself not only on her culinary skills but also on her Sicilian heritage, I’m embarrassed to admit to you that it took me years to finally get around to making lasagna. For one thing, my mother never made it. I don’t remember my grandmother doing so, either. That said, there was no time-honored recipe for me to inherit. And I’m enough of a cooking snob that I didn’t want to bother with the recipe on the back of the box of dried lasagna (or was it the intimidation factor?). All of this goes by way of saying that I waited not until I enjoyed this most fundamental recipe of Italian cuisine at someone’s home, but until I found a recipe that sounded to me as though it would reward all of my time and trouble by yielding a meal that could go down in the annals of cooking history as the greatest of all time.

Reader, I found it.

Trust me when I tell you that this lasagna is magnificent. Although it might appear complicated on a first-read, it really just requires some advance preparation and organization—and what recipe doesn’t? Plus, it doesn’t require a béchamel sauce, so that’s one step you can cross off your to-do list. This is fun to make, it will fill your home with mouth-watering aromatics, and it is so delicious as to qualify as a mortal sin. When I served this for company recently, one impressed guest remarked: “Well, I used to make lasagna. I won’t anymore. Not after this.”

This really will spoil you for any other lasagna recipe.

It comes from a terrific anthology cookbook called From Our House to Yours: Comfort Food to Give and Share, published by Chronicle Books. It’s a book for a good cause, too; sales benefit Meals on Wheels of San Francisco. I found it at a winery in Napa about 10 years ago, and everything I’ve ever made from it has been fabulous. Now, a word about the recipe itself. Foodwriter, chef, and culinary educator Julia della Croce is its creator. Julia is one of America’s foremost authorities on Italian food, and has published numerous books; you can find a list of her titles on her website. (The one containing this recipe is The Pasta Book.) Julia also writes a blog—wonderfully named—called “Forktales.” She graciously gave me permission to include her lasagna recipe on this blog. Julia, grazie mille!

Lasagna Casserole with Meat and Red Wine Sauce

—Serves 6

1/2 ounce dried porcini mushrooms
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 medium to large onion, finely chopped
1 large garlic clove, finely chopped
3 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves
1 large carrot, peeled and finely chopped
1 large stalk celery, including leaves, finely chopped
1/2 pound lean, sweet, fennel-flavored Italian pork sausages (about 3 links)
1 pound lean ground beef or pork
4 tablespoons tomato paste
3/4 cup good dry red wine
One 28-ounce can tomatoes in puree, drained and coarsely chopped, puree reserved
1-1/2 teaspoons salt, or to taste, plus 2 tablespoons for cooking pasta (I use Kosher salt for the recipe, and regular Iodized salt for cooking the pasta)
Freshly ground pepper to taste
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 pound dried lasagna or narrower lasagnette noodles
3 cups (24 ounces) ricotta cheese
Good pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
1-1/2 cups freshly grated Parmesan cheese (I use Parmigiano Reggiano)
1/2 pound thinly sliced Italian salame such as soppressata, diced
1-1/2 pounds good-quality mozzarella cut into very thin slices, or shredded (shredding goes faster)

1. Soak the dried mushrooms in 1/4 cup warm water until softened, about 30 minutes. Strain the liquid through a fine sieve and reserve. Chop the mushrooms coarsely. Set aside.

2. Heat the olive oil and butter in a heavy saucepan. Add the onion, garlic, parsley, carrot, and celery. Sauté over medium heat until the vegetables are softened, about 10 minutes; do not let them brown. Remove the sausage meat from the casings. Add it and the ground meat to the pan. Sauté until lightly browned, about 8 minutes, breaking up the meat with a spoon and mixing it with the vegetables. Sauté gently another 8 to 10 minutes. Stir in the reserved mushrooms and their liquor, the tomato paste, and wine; simmer for 5 minutes. Add the tomatoes and their reserved puree; simmer gently, uncovered, until the sauce thickens, about 30 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

3. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 425°F. Place an oven rack in the upper half of the oven. Bring 5 to 6 quarts water to a rolling boil and add the 2 tablespoons salt, vegetable oil, and noodles. Stir immediately, continuing to stir frequently as the noodles cook. Drain when slightly underdone (they will continue to cook in the oven), reserving 1/3 cup of the cooking water. Immediately rinse the lasagne noodles well in cold water to prevent them from sticking together.

4. Combine the ricotta with the reserved pasta water, nutmeg, and 1/2 cup of the Parmesan cheese. Smear the bottom of a 10-by-14-inch baking pan with a little of the meat sauce. Then place a single solid layer of the noodles on top, without overlapping. Spread a layer of the ricotta mixture on the noodles, followed by a layer of sauce. Sprinkle with some of the salame, add a layer of mozzarella, then sprinkle with several teaspoons of the remaining Parmesan cheese. Repeat layering until all the ingredients are used up, ending with a layer of meat sauce strewn with mozzarella and Parmesan. Be sure to cover the pasta with sauce to prevent it from drying out in the oven.

5. Bake until the lasagne is heated through and bubbly, about 25 minutes. Remove from the oven and let settle for 10 to 15 minutes. Cut into squares before serving.

TO MAKE AHEAD: The lasagne can be assembled up to 4 days in advance. Once cooked, it will keep, covered, in the refrigerator for up to 5 days, or freeze for up to 6 months.

TO REHEAT: If frozen, let thaw in the refrigerator. Reheat in a preheated 350°F oven until heated through.

TMSW Hall of Fame Inaugural Inductee: Marlo Thomas

18 Sunday Mar 2012

Posted by in Second Wife Hall of Fame

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One of the great satisfactions of writing this blog is the chance it gives me to explore subjects that mean a lot to me, and to share with you information that I think you’ll find useful, uplifting, or inspirational. I know that there are many among you—midlife second wives, like me—who are learning to navigate the waters of midlife or of second wifedom—or, heaven help us—both. (Incidentally, for anyone unsure of the exact definition of a “second wife” in the context of this blog, please see the penultimate question in the FAQ.) As a writer, I’ve always found inspiration in the stories of others—in how they create their lives and how they contribute to the world. When I started writing a blog about “the real and true adventures of remarriage at life’s midpoint,” I knew that I wanted to have a section that honors other second wives— women who have walked a mile in those stilettos, sandals, or running shoes. Today it gives me great pleasure to introduce the blog’s newest feature—The Midlife Second Wives’ Hall of Fame. I can think of no more deserving inductee to inaugurate the Hall of Fame than actress, author, activist, producer, philanthropist, and social media guru Marlo Thomas.

Marlo married iconic television journalist Phil Donahue 31 years ago (it was her first marriage, his second), and they put a whole new spin on meeting cute—she was his guest on The Phil Donahue Show. When they married, she gained five stepsons. Talk about a life change! She recently shared one of the secrets of their successful marriage when she appeared on The View:

“We share each other’s passion for each other’s dream.”

Regular readers of the blog won’t be surprised by my selection. Marlo Thomas has been an important touchstone throughout my life; it was an honor to finally meet her last November in New York City.

Backstage at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre following Marlo Thomas' performance in Relatively Speaking. Photo credit: John Rich

The daughter of beloved entertainer Danny Thomas, Marlo grew into her birthright as Hollywood royalty by making her own mark in show business, winning honors and acclaim for her groundbreaking role of Ann Marie in the ABC series That Girl. The mid-1960s sit-com depicted, for the first time, a single woman living on her own. Yes, she had a boyfriend, but that’s not what defined her; it was Ann’s career, and her quest to make a name for herself as an actress, on her own terms, that made her a role model for countless young women. I was too young to realize it, but Marlo also created and produced this series—until that time, Lucille Ball was the only woman to wield that kind of power in Hollywood.

I imagine every woman of a certain age has a That Girl story to share. Here’s mine: When I was a freshman at a Catholic high school in Ohio, a boy in my class had a bit of a crush on me. He and many people, including my own mother, thought I looked like Marlo Thomas. I suspect Mom’s reason was because, like Marlo, I’m also half-Lebanese and half-Italian. The boy in my class used to go home after school and watch reruns of That Girl because Marlo Thomas/Ann Marie reminded him of me. Those were such wholesome, innocent times! He became my first and only high school sweetheart.

I identified with Marlo and her character not because of any physical resemblance, but because of her passion—her belief in her ability to create her own destiny. That was a new idea for me, and one that would take me years to embrace as my own. But here’s the thing: I never lost that dream. Not once. Even when it seemed that I was as far from it as one could possibly be. The dream was to become someone, which is, in truth, what every person longs for. And for most of us, myself included, that dream is not about fame or celebrity, but about living an authentic life.

Marlo would go on to influence future generations with her inspirational Free to Be book, recording, and television special. Her influence continues today in myriad ways. She carries on her late father’s work as a fundraiser and awareness-builder for St. Jude’s Childrens’ Research Hospital. And as if acting, writing books, and philanthropy were not enough, she curates MarloThomas.com at The Huffington Post and contributes to the website wowOwow.com. She welcomes visitors to her Facebook page with this mission statement:

This is a place where we can share our thoughts and dreams, vent a little, and — hopefully — laugh a lot!

Laughter is an important part of who Marlo is—she is not only an endearing comedienne, she is also a connoisseur of comedy, as evidenced by her latest book, the memoir Growing Up Laughing: My Story and the Story of Funny. It features her interviews with such funny people as Elaine May, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Lily Tomlin, and Joan Rivers. Laughter is the glue that often keeps me together, and I found her book filled with wonderful insights and life lessons.

The book includes her bio, which provides another window or two into her life:

Marlo Thomas graduated from the University of Southern California with a teaching degree. She is the author of six best-selling books, Free to be … You and Me, Free to Be … A Family, The Right Words at the Right Time, The Right Words at the Right Time Volume 2: Your Turn!, and Thanks and Giving: All Year Long. Ms. Thomas has won four Emmy Awards, a Peabody Award, a Golden Globe and a Grammy, and has been inducted into the Broadcasting Hall of Fame for her work in television, including her starring role in the landmark series That Girl, which she also conceived and produced. She is the National Outreach Director for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. Ms. Thomas lives in New York with her husband, Phil Donahue.

Marlo, thank you for a lifetime of inspiration. It is my distinct honor to induct you into  the Midlife Second Wives’ Hall of Fame. Please accept the virtual TMSW Hall of Fame Crown as a token of my esteem.

Related articles:

“Secrets of a Successful Marriage: Marlo Thomas and Phil Donahue”

“Marlo & Me: Prologue”

“Wherein I Win an Essay Contest and Populate One Blog Post with Several Diverse Celebrities”

“Marlo & Me: Act 1”

Salt & Pepper Shrimp: A Scissor-Worthy Recipe

17 Saturday Mar 2012

Posted by in Food for Thought

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The other day I wrote about the trove of clipped recipes I’ve managed to amass over the years. In my effort to separate the wheat from the chaff, I’ve decided to pluck a recipe at random from time to time and post it on the blog if I deem it to be “scissor-worthy.” Today, courtesy of the Richmond Times-Dispatch (and the McClatchy-Tribune news syndicate), I bring you what I’m calling “Salt and Pepper Shrimp.” The original title is “Wok-Flashed Salt and Pepper Shrimp” but since John and I need to purchase a wok, I made this in a skillet instead. It worked just fine.

The recipe as published in the paper was adapted from one created by television chef Ming Tsai. I’ve made a minor adjustment of my own, which I’ll explain in a moment.

This recipe is supposed to serve two people, but John and I—hearty eaters both—found that we had enough left to have for lunch today. (I did use slightly more than a pound of shrimp, which I purchased at my favorite seafood store, Yellow Umbrella. I also bought shrimp that was already cooked.) I should add that whenever a recipe gives me a choice between a dried herb or spice or its fresh incarnation, I always opt for fresh. The tartness of the lemon zest in the rice is enhanced by the wonderful intensity of the minced ginger in this dish.

Salt and Pepper Shrimp

1 pound large, easy-peel shrimp
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 tablespoon freshly ground pepper
1 tablespoon canola oil
1 tablespoon chopped fresh ginger or 1 teaspoon ground ginger
2 teaspoons minced garlic
6 scallions, thinly sliced

Place shrimp in a bowl of water to soak while you prepare the other ingredients. (This step isn’t necessary if you’re using cooked shrimp, although I always give seafood a rinse under the tap.)

Mix the cornstarch, salt, and pepper in a medium bowl. Remove shrimp from water (if uncooked) and add to the cornstarch mixture. Toss well to make sure all of the shrimp are covered with the mixture.

Heat the oil in a wok or skillet on high heat. When the oil is smoking, add the shrimp, ginger, garlic, and scallions. Stir-fry four to five minutes until the shrimp have turned pink. (The timing will be the same if using shrimp that has already been cooked; just be sure to stir the shrimp well while the other ingredients are cooking so they don’t burn or stick to the skillet.)

Serve over Lemony Rice and Peas.

Lemony Rice and Peas

1 package microwavable white rice*
1 teaspoon canola oil
Zest of 1 lemon (grated skin) plus 1 tablespoon juice
1 cup frozen peas, defrosted
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Cook rice according to package directions for the microwave, or use my method for Basmati rice below. Measure one and one-half cups of rice into a bowl (I used about 2 cups), saving any extra for another meal. Add the oil, lemon zest, lemon juice, and peas. Toss well. Add salt and pepper to taste.

*Here’s where I veered from the recipe. I’m not a fan of using the microwave for anything other than melting butter, warming coffee, heating leftovers, or making popcorn—with kernels, not the packaged kind. Instead, I prepared 1 cup of white Basmati rice in a pan on the stove:

(1 and 3/4 cups water, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1 teaspoon of butter. Bring all to a boil, turn the gas down low and cover the pot with a tight-fitting lid. Simmer for 15 minutes, then remove from the heat for about 15 minutes more.)

Serve with Salt and Pepper Shrimp.

Scissor-Worthy Recipes and the Great Clip-Cookathon

10 Saturday Mar 2012

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Remember the other day when I bemoaned all the clipped recipes that were spilling out of my stash-all drawer? Here they are. I’ve decided to do something about them.

First, I’m going through the pile once more to determine whether or not I really and truly want to invest the time, labor, and expense in making a particular recipe. Here are some of the rejects currently residing in my recycling box:

Runny Eggs on Creamy Grits. I had just moved to the South. That’s my only explanation for why I thought this would be remotely interesting to eat.

Pomelo, Escarole, and Candied Bacon Salad with Meyer Lemon Dressing. What’s a pomelo? I’m sure the complete article would have told me, but I clipped the recipe without saving the explanation.

Paw Paw’s Birthday Caramel Cake with Caramel Frosting. Again, I plead geography. Otherwise there’s no rational reason why I would have taken the time to clip this. Especially since I don’t like caramel.

I think you get the general idea.

Here’s where I’m going with this. The recipes that make the cut (pun most definitely intended), are going in a file from which I’m randomly going to pull at random moments of desperation. I will make said recipe, and post it here, along with John’s and my assessment of whether or not it was, indeed, scissor-worthy. Doesn’t matter if it’s a cake, a salad, or a main dish; if I pull it, I cook it and we eat it. End of story.

(If this is not a test of marital compatibility, I don’t know what is.)

The recipe I’m sharing with you today was made by me on Thursday, and we had leftovers last night and will likely have this for lunch today. The unanimous verdict was that this one’s a keeper. I have to say that while I was making it, I wasn’t so sure; it seemed as though it was going to be one of those oh-so-good-for-you meals with healthy ingredients that I’d end up fiddling with on my plate, like Randy and his mashed potatoes. And yes, I’m aware that this is the second time on the blog that I’ve referenced A Christmas Story. Guess I’m a pushover for movies filmed in Cleveland.

So here, without further ado, making its debut on the Great Clip-Cookathon, is …

Creamy Carmelized Onion Pasta
—Serves eight

3 pounds yellow onions, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 pound fettuccine pasta
1 8-ounce container crème fraîche
1 5-ounch container arugula (I mistakenly bought arugula blend, which had radicchio in it…didn’t matter. I used it anyway.)
1 cup thinly sliced sun-dried tomatoes
Kosher salt and fresh ground black pepper

In a large slow cooker, combine the onions and olive oil. Stir well to coat, then cover and cook on high for 6 to 8 hours, or until well browned and caramelized. (This kind of caramel I like. I also love using my slow cooker. I simply stirred the onions around each time I walked into the kitchen to make sure they caramelized uniformly.)

When the onions are done, bring a large saucepan of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook according to package directions. Drain, then return to the pot. Add the onions, crème fraîche, arugula, and sun-dried tomatoes. Stir over medium heat until the arugula just begins to wilt, about 2 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

Chicken Parmesan

07 Wednesday Mar 2012

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There’s no meal quite so satisfying as Chicken Parmesan, which I prepared last Sunday with linguini aglio olio (linguini in a sauce of garlic and olive oil) and roasted asparagus. The Fresh Market had a sale on chicken breasts—$1.99 per pound—and I planned our dinner around that bargain. There’s also nothing quite so satisfying as knowing you’ve spent less than $15 on ingredients that will yield three meals (if you’re cooking for two and love leftovers). You should also get two to three lunches from the breaded cutlets that didn’t fit into the baking pan. That, my investment-savvy friends, is a fantastic ROI.)

If you’ve got the basics in your pantry—extra-virgin olive oil, garlic, Italian-seasoned bread crumbs, Parmesan cheese plus good Parmigiano-Regianno, pasta, red pepper flakes, and canned tomato sauce—you shouldn’t have to buy much else other than chicken, provolone, your vegetable, and flat-leaf Italian parsley (for jazzing up your pasta). Two whole chicken breasts (or four halves, depending on how you tend to size things up) formed the foundation for this dinner. I started the day before by preparing my breaded chicken cutlets; all I needed to do to serve it the day was assemble and cook the recipe, make my pasta with garlic and olive oil, and roast the asparagus. A crusty baguette and a bottle of wine rounded out the meal. Delizioso!

CHICKEN PARMESAN

—Serves six, with extra breaded cutlets to make sandwiches for three lunches

For the breaded cutlets:
2 whole boneless chicken breasts
3 to 6 Tablespoons olive oil
2 to 3 cups seasoned Italian bread crumbs
1 to 2 cups grated Parmesan cheese
Salt and freshly ground pepper
4 eggs, beaten with a whisk
1/2 half shallot, minced

Slice the breasts down the middle, then slice off the side end of each half-breast so that each piece lays flat on your cutting board. With a meat mallet, gently pound each piece of chicken until the pieces are about one-half inch thick. Season the chicken with salt and pepper.

Whisk the eggs and add the minced shallot. Blend the bread crumbs and cheese together on a baking sheet.

Dip each piece of chicken in the eggs, then dredge in the crumb and cheese mixture. Place each breaded chicken piece on a separate baking sheet and continue until all of the chicken has been breaded.

Heat 3 tablespoons of olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the cutlets and cook until they are golden brown, about 2 to 3 minutes per side. Add extra oil to the skillet as needed. You’ll likely have to cook the cutlets in batches; after each cutlet is cooked, remove it to a tray or plate lined with paper towels.

When finished, you can either cover the cutlets with aluminum foil and store until the next day, or continue with the recipe.

For the Parmesan:
3 16-ounce cans good quality tomato sauce
7 to 8 breaded chicken cutlets
7 to 8 slices Provolone cheese
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Regianno cheese

Preheat the oven to 475-degrees F. Spread some of the tomato sauce on the bottom of a 9 x 13 baking pan, then arrange the breaded chicken cutlets on top, adding more sauce in between each cutlet. Top each cutlet with a slice of Provolone cheese, then add a dollop of sauce to the cheese. Sprinkle the Parmigiano-Regianno over all.

Bake until the cheese melts and the chicken is cooked through, about 10 minutes or until nice and bubbly. Serve immediately.

(You will find, to your delight, that you should have unused breaded cutlets, which will be wonderful the next day for lunch, served on crusty Italian bread.)

(Would you like the recipe for the Linguini Aglio Olio? I can arrange that!)

Friend Sandy on Facebook. By the Way, She’s a Dog.

03 Saturday Mar 2012

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“On the Internet, nobody knows you’re a dog.” So went the famous New Yorker cartoon, now nearly 20 years old. (Or in dog years, 140). But in the age of Facebook, everybody can know not only whether you’re a dog, but what breed you are, what kind of kibble you like, and whether or not you’re in a relationship. And it’s not my intention to be species-exclusive here. You can find cats, ferrets, birds, and more on Facebook. Pets are on social media, and it is indeed a dog’s life.

The image you’re looking at is a screenshot of our Cavalier King Charles‘ new Facebook page. No, I don’t have too much time on my hands—I l just love Sandy to distraction. She’s the daughter I never had. (And she’s not the first dog in our family to have a Facebook page; her cousin Gunner beat her to it.)

If you look at the image that’s cropped at the bottom of the shot, you’ll see Sandy with John. This is the first picture I ever saw of my future husband; it illustrated his profile on Match.com. (You can read about how we met in my article for the Richmond Times-Dispatch.)

I first met Sandy when I visited John at his apartment. He had never had (nor heard of) tabouley, and I was about to set things straight. I parked my car near the grassy lot of his apartment complex, grabbed the container of salad, looked up, and saw a blur of brown and white fur barreling towards me. If you’ve never seen a dog smile, you haven’t truly lived. Sandy’s entire body was wagging, and her grin upon meeting me utterly did me in. I was putty in her paws.

(John has a very nice smile, too.)

It was only a matter of time before we became a family—and a blended one at that. John’s two sons, my son, his dog, my cat…

That reminds me: I have to create a Facebook page for Nellie.

Penelope “Nellie” Janas Rich

You can follow Sandy’s adventures by “friending” her on Facebook. Just search for Sandy Rich and look for the picture of Sandy with her love interest, Zorro Burman-Wadsworth. Sorry guys. She’s definitely in a relationship.

Sandy, on the right, with her love interest Zorro. Sandy is nearly five; Zorro is one. Sandy is a cougar.

Lentil Soup with Smoked Turkey

02 Friday Mar 2012

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I am an inveterate recipe clipper. One of the drawers in our home is filled to overflowing with recipes culled from the New York Times, the Plain Dealer, the Richmond Times-Dispatch, and all the usual suspects among the food magazines. Why do I do this? It’s not for lack of cookbooks in my collection. Stumped for a way to prepare fish, I’ll troll various sites on the Internet. I could begin, today and each day thereafter, to cook my way through every clipped recipe I own and find myself cooking until 2040—if standing on my feet in front of a hot stove doesn’t kill me first.

The thing is, I’m a sucker for well-written food articles. They satisfy my hunger for evocative language and delicious meals in one convenient, non-reheatable packet.

This recipe, included in an article by China Millman of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and recently reprinted in our local paper, the Richmond Times-Dispatch, caught my eye for two reasons. First, the headline was a real grabber: “Humble staples make one exquisite soup.” Second, I have a shelf of repurposed White Cat Popcorn jars filled with dried beans, split peas, and lentils. Why not, I asked myself, cook something that I don’t have to fill a cart from Whole Foods to prepare? The only item I didn’t have on hand was the smoked turkey, which I found, you guessed it, at Whole Foods.

A great big thank you goes out to cookbook author Eugenia Bone, who created this delicious and satisfying soup recipe in the first place; it was originally published in the December 2009 issue of Food & Wine magazine. I reached Ms. Bone via email through her website. If you go there, you’ll find it has a most scientific name—Mycophilia.com, because it is devoted to her love of mushrooms and her new book, Mycophilia: Revelations from the Weird World of Mushrooms. I love mushrooms, and so of course I’m going to have to look into this. Eugenia Bone also writes a blog, Well-Preserved, for the Denver Post.

Lentil Soup with Smoked Turkey *
—Serves 4 to 6

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
3 garlic cloves, peeled
2 celery ribs, finely chopped
2 carrots, finely chopped
1 onion, finely chopped
1 16-ounce can whole tomatoes, chopped and juices reserved
1 bay leaf
1 cup green or brown lentils **
3/4 pound smoked turkey wing and thigh
4 small red potatoes, peeled and sliced 1/4-inch thick
1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, for serving ***

In a large pot, heat the oil. Add the garlic, celery, carrots, and onion and cook over moderate heat, stirring occasionally until softened, 7 minutes. Add the tomatoes, bay leaf, lentils, smoked turkey, and 2 quarts of water and bring to a boil. Cover partially and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the lentils are tender, 1 hour. Add potatoes and simmer until tender, 10 minutes.

Remove the turkey meat from the bones and return it to the soup; discard the skin, bones, and bay leaf. Add the parsley and season the soup with salt and pepper. Ladle the soup into bowls and serve, passing the cheese at the table.

Make ahead: The lentil soup can be refrigerated for up to 3 days.

* I doubled the recipe for this session, which is why there’s an extra onion and 2 extra celery ribs in the mise en place photo, along with a 28-ounch package of tomatoes.

**I used all the green lentils that I had on hand, and supplemented with brown in order to get to 2 cups—remember, I was doubling this recipe. I added only 3 and 1/2 quarts of water, though, which made for a nice, thick soup.

***The article noted that adding a Parmigiano-Reggiano rind to the pot would add richness. I did this and it did. Rinds of this cheese keep well in the freezer.

Recipe used with permission of Eugenia Bone.

With the Passing of Davy Jones, A Piece of Childhood Returns

01 Thursday Mar 2012

Posted by in Nostalgia, The Musical Life, Transitions

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In 1966, the answers to two questions firmly established one’s taste, refinement, and standing as a female connoisseur of pop music and teenybopper sex appeal:

  1. Who is your favorite Beatle?
  2. Who is your favorite Monkee?

At age 10, my bona fides in this regard were solid. I stood with the majority of young starstruck fans: My favorite Beatle was Paul, and my favorite Monkee—that made-for-TV music group modeled on the Fab Four—was Davy Jones. Yesterday Jones died of a heart attack at the age of 66 in Florida. When the ABC News tweet showed up in my Twitter feed, I stopped what I was doing and revised my priorities. My childhood crush had died, simultaneously taking with him a part of my childhood and giving it back to me. Respect must be paid.

As crushes go, mine was all-encompassing. There was something about that sweet smile, that guileless face, that thick glossy hair (I ask you: Was he not the Justin Bieber of his day?), that adorable British accent, that made me melt. So what if he was short? At 10 I was probably already as tall as he was. I didn’t care. And I knew that if only Davy Jones could meet me, he wouldn’t care either. (The conviction of a child’s crush is as immutable as, well, the sounds emanating from a transistor radio. I would fall asleep each night with mine tucked beneath my pillow, listening to CKLW, the AM rock station out of Windsor, Ontario, which cut a wide swath through the airwaves—I lived 25 miles outside of Cleveland.)

I watched each episode of The Monkees, saved my change to buy every issue of Tiger Beat featuring Davy on the cover, and even though I owned two Monkees albums, I still bought their singles on 45s. I’ve no idea now where the albums are, but in an orange 45-record case—buried somewhere in the attic or garage—and filed in careful alphabetical order, are “A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You;” “Daydream Believer;” “I’m a Believer;” “(I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone (those three words tucked away in their parentheses fascinated me); “Last Train to Clarksville;” and “Pleasant Valley Sunday.”

Years pass. The Summer of Love in 1967 brings new sounds through my transistor. I start high school in 1970, and discover progressive rock. I no longer listen to CKLW; with the conviction of a music snob or dilettante, I keep my dial tuned to Cleveland’s WMMS. I distance myself from my obsession with The Monkees. They were for kids, and I had become a teenager, a young adult possessed of all the worldly wisdom you’d expect her to have, which is to say very little indeed.

Decades pass. I observe with detached interest (my musical tastes now running to classical and jazz) version 2.0 of several bands, including the Monkees. Aging rockers singing the old songs, God love ’em.

What strikes me now as I reflect on this, and on Davy Jones’ passing, is how vitally important some things become to us at certain times in our lives, how our fascination with them vanishes, and how, inevitably and with increasing frequency, mortality will bring us up short and return those things to us, as fresh and new as ever. We’ll never see Davy Jones flash that innocent grin again, or speak in that charming accent, but his music will live on. I reach for my iPhone and program Pandora to The Monkees station. Now the memories are flooding back. I can’t stop them, nor do I want to.