Ginna's Art Café

Beef Short Ribs in Fruited Stock

2010-11-19T08:00:00.000-08:00

For the 2010 Carmel Bach Festival Silent Auction, several colleagues and I offered a gourmet meal for six delivered to the "winner's" home for Valentines' Day, 2011, on plates made in my studio, which the "winner" of the auction item gets to keep.

I am in charge of the main course as well as the ceramic dinner service for six.

My meal? Beef Short Ribs in Fruited Stock with Garlic Mashed Potatoes and Broccolini. We did a test run several days ago with Gayle, my cooking buddy, whose job in this case is to make the salad (fresh butter lettuce with Meyer's Lemon, Olive Oil, shredded Parmesan, a sprinkling of Rice Wine Vinegar and sliced avocados).

I don't ordinarily cook meat in my kitchen. I eat meat on occasion, but cooking it is not generally my forté. However, this was amazing! Beef stock reduced for hours upon hours with a selection of stone fruits, the short ribs then simmered for hours in this amazing sauce/gravy/stock/reduction/glaze masterpiece. I sautéed mushrooms for the top.

If you are interested in this recipe, please email me.

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Oh Brother!

2010-11-18T11:10:00.000-08:00

Eee-gad! A whole month since my last post. And I was going to be so disciplined about this!

Oh brother.

My "diet" is going well. Since David has joined me, it is going even better - it's good to have a buddy. We replace two meals per day with our shake, B vitamins and cleansing supplement, and if you are reading this and want to know just what is is we are doing, send me an email. If you don't give a darn about the fact that I've lost enough weight to loosen my jeans (I don't do scales), then read on about what we are cooking!

Sometimes, we long for a sandwich at noon, and so have our second shake in the evening. But, mostly, dinner is an event - a sort of regular evening date. Since David and I are both artists who work at home, the evening is often spent in our studios, his or mine, so our dinner hours together are key to our healthy relationship.

Last night it was "flipped" Chilean Sea Bass on a bed of mixed, sauteed vegetables - green onions, carrots, celery, garlic, green beans, shredded carrots. I learned to "flip" from my colleague at the Chopra Center, Gage Copenhaver, who as chef de cuisine at several restaurants, flipped his way through his various jobs.

Flipping Dinner. High heat, fast cooking, searing on the outside, not overcooking the inside, since it continues to cook after removal from the pan.

Delicious. The Indian cooking revival is still going, but we needed a break.

Next up, Braised Short Ribs in Fruited Stock.

Thanks for listening.

GB

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Rainy Day Sunday

2010-10-17T14:26:00.000-07:00

Hmmm.... new diet plan, or I should say eating plan, but really a non-eating plan... going well. Two meal replacements per day, great vitamin supplements, nice cleansing activity. I like it.

As a foodie, I really look forward to dinner. I am keeping it clean and healthy, but creative. Two nights ago I made a vegetable soup, with stock I had in the freezer - very handy, I make it regularly from the bones of Whole Foods chickens stored in the freezer in Zip Locks until there are enough to fill the pot.

Yesterday, my friend Vivien gave me a few apples from her tree. Cute little Granny Smiths. I had chicken sausages in the freezer, too. Since it's cold, blustery and rainy, it seemed a good night to make my favorite European Country dinner - Mashed potatoes and sausages with sautéed red cabbage and apples in Balsamic Vinegar. Truly warming and delicious. No butter in the mashed potatoes lowered the calorie and fat count. Small portions, lots o' water....

Back to Gourmet Indian in Minutes tomorrow.

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More Gourmet Indian Cooking

2010-10-08T22:02:00.000-07:00

Veggie Curry was great. The addition of the (basically) fried cheese really added value to the meal. I cut the Paneer into cubes, floured, egged and bread-crumbed the results, and fried them in a small amount of ghee. then drained it well. Delicious.

Enough for three nights, served with lettuce or rice or...

Last night I experimented with Macchi Lahsuni, salmon with garlic crumb, page 44. This was really good - crumbs so delicious I was tempted to eat them with a spoon out of the bag. Didn't...

Tonight I found the recipe on page 65. Kozhi Chettinad Dosa ( spicy fried chicken-stuffed crepes). First of all, it is not fried chicken, so don't freak out. The recipe calls for 10 ounces of cooked chicken, shredded. A perfect opportunity for a Whole Foods Roasted chicken. Toss with onions and some aromatic and zippy spices (anise, cumin, chili powder, garam masala) and heat through. The Rice Pancakes, or Crepes were a little tricky, and I could have done without, since I am, after all, on a weight losing, health building plan. But, they were fun to make. And beautiful, lacy things, like praline lace cookies, wrapped around spicy chicken. Served with a salad.

I love this cookbook (Gourmet Indian in Minutes by Monisha Bharadwaj). It is simple, but not as simple as Monisha thinks. Perhaps after some more practice, I can keep to her "15 minutes to prep, 10 minutes to cook," but I am realizing that I have grown lazy since the Chopra Center days about my Indian spices and skills. I loved this recipe because it did not have any turmeric (why does everything in Westernized Indian cooking have turmeric in it?) and because the chicken came already cooked!

Next two nights we are eating with friends, so more next week about my Indian cooking experiment.
(love my meal replacement drinks, BTW. Great B vitamins.)

thanks for listening. GB

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Making Paneer!

2010-10-05T14:28:00.000-07:00

Well, here I am, back after a few months hiatus. But new things are happening, food-wise. Yesterday I began a diet/food plan, based on a nutritionally sound program called Isagenix. Two meals replacement drinks/day, supplements and a good cleanse. Just what I need.

My husband, David, and I both work at home, so we work whenever - sometimes late into the evening. For me, the two meals replaced must be breakfast and lunch, since we like our social time, and generally make dinner together. And, if I am going to only have one meal a day, I am going to make it interesting.

So, I have decided to improve my Indian cooking skills and repertoire this first month by making good, healthy, low calorie dinners from Monisha Bharadwaj's fabulous book, Gourmet Indian in Minutes. The edition I am using was published in 2008 by Kyle Books. Lots of great color photos, delicious looking recipes.

Last night I made ghee and paneer cheese, recipes from my book, A Simple Celebration, the Nutritional Program for the Chopra Center for Well Being, published by Random House/Harmony Books in 1997. Both recipes pretty simple, really. For the cheese, I bring 1 1/2 gallons of whole milk to a boil, til it begins to foam. Then I add two quarts of buttermilk, turn off the heat and stir. The curds and whey begin to separate. When it's cooled a bit, I add some salt and strain it through cheese cloth in a strainer and squeeze out the remaining whey. The more whey you get rid of, the harder the cheese will be. Refrigerate overnight, setting the strainer over a bowl to continue to catch the dripping whey, before removing from the cheesecloth bundle.

For ghee, simmer unsalted butter in a large, heavy pan with high sides until it goes through two foaming cycles - it's burbling off the liquid. It will start to brown the milk solids that fall to the bottom - the browner you let it get, the nuttier it tastes. Strain it through cheese cloth, too, into a glass jar.

Tonight I am cutting the paneer into cubes to sauté and add to Monisha's recipe for Sindhi Kadhi (Vegetable and Tomato Curry) on page 97. Stay tuned for the final menu and recipe.

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The Weather

2010-03-01T12:20:00.001-08:00

We at Glazes Design Workshop are currently very weather dependent! The remodel of our new location is so “indoor-outdoor” that the rain keeps us inside.

After months of planning and work, we have moved.

Our new location (address and directions given with appointments, since we are in a residential area) is on seven acres in Mid Carmel Valley, adjacent to the Carmel River.

We are open for take home painting kits and commissions.

We are producing a large order of coffee mugs for a Palm Springs client; creating mosaic animals; helping mothers of school children create masterpieces to sell at fundraisers; planning a major event with the YWCA); offering custom-created take–home ceramic painting kits.

Here are some images of a Frog Prince I discovered hidden within an old garden ornament brought to me by a client.

I removed the old mosaic shards and grungy grout and completely re-created him, warts and all!

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Crazy for Crackers!

2010-02-01T20:15:00.000-08:00

I love crackers. A good cracker is a satisfying snack and it can be topped with so many interesting things: cheese, of course; tuna; smoked oysters; herring; sun-dried tomatoes; paté; dips; cream cheese… whatever comes to mind, it can probably be placed upon a cracker.

My attraction to crackers goes way beyond saltines and water biscuits. I look for something with some character. The American term cracker, rather than the more British “biscuit,” comes from the crackling sound made during baking, and is usually applied to salty and savory flavors, as opposed to a cookie, which is sweet.

But, truly, I am disappointed in the crackers available at the markets. Mostly, they taste like sawdust held together with a bit of water. For a while, I could get Margaret’s Artisan Flatbread Crackers at Whole Foods or our local Community Health Food Store. But, they stopped carrying them because if their short shelf life. And besides, they are $5 a box. Ridiculous.

My friends, who mostly think I am out of my mind anyway, say things upon introducing me like, “She makes her own crackers!” But, having made them once, I am addicted. The dough can be made ahead and frozen, or the crackers can be made ahead and stored in an airtight container at room temperature for up to a week.

There are many variations to the crackers below: skip the sesame seeds and add rosemary, dehydrated onion, garlic or other herbs or seeds.

Flatbread Crackers

3 cups organic white flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons salt
1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, cut into pieces
1 cup plain yogurt
1 1/4 cups sesame seeds, toasted
2 large eggs
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 tablespoon soy sauce

Preheat oven to 350°F. Mix flour, baking powder, and salt in a food processor until blended. Add butter and pulse until mixture resembles coarse meal. Add yogurt and one cup sesame seeds and mix until mixture forms a dough. Turn out into a plastic wrap. Chill 10 minutes. Divide dough into quarters. Stir together eggs, brown sugar, and soy sauce until sugar is dissolved to make glaze.

Divide 1 dough quarter into 12 equal portions and form each into a 4-inch log with your hands. On a lightly floured surface, roll out each log into an approximate 12 inch strip. Transfer strips to 2 baking sheets layered with parchment paper. Brush strips with glaze and sprinkle with sesame seeds. Bake in 350° oven for 20 minutes, rotating sheets if necessary, or until glaze is golden brown. Transfer to racks to cool.

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The Virtues of Eggplant

2010-01-12T19:38:00.000-08:00

The eggplant, known, by the name of brinjal in Southern India, as “The King of Vegetables,” is used in cuisines around the world. A nightshade, and once thought to be poisonous, eggplant is one of those mystery fruits used as a vegetable in cooking, like its relative, the tomato. It is a short-lived perennial plant generally grown as an annual. More than four million acres are devoted to the cultivation of eggplant around the world.

Eggplant can be bitter, which can irritate the stomach lining and cause gastritis, but this effect can be greatly reduced by slicing and salting the eggplant, letting it stand for an hour, and then rinsing thoroughly in cold water (known as “degorging”). The salting process also reduces the amount of oil absorbed in cooking – a plus!

The versatility of the eggplant, aka Aubergine (British); Melongen (Carribean); the above-mentioned brinjal (Sanskrit); and Melanzane (Italian) is legend: it can be stewed, roasted, sliced, battered and deep-fried, grilled and mashed. Eggplant can be stuffed (meat, rice, vegetables, walnut paste, whatever) and baked. It is used in curries and chutneys. It is made into delicious entrees, appetizers and snacks by the Turks, the French, the Greeks, Lebanese, Thai, Japanese, Chinese and the Spanish. It can be big and luscious, small and thin, shaped like cucumbers, ovals, eggs (hence the term “eggplant, from the small, white and egg-shaped variety), striped, purple or green. There are many cultivars.

My favorite is Eggplant Parmesan, Melanzane alla Parmigiana, made with marinara, mozzarella and parmesan. I like to use my own marinara, frozen in plastic zip locks every fall during the bumper crop period of tomato harvest. This September I was fortunate to receive a five-gallon bucket of beautiful Roma tomatoes from an associate in Santa Rosa.

Below is the recipe for Eggplant Parmesan I created last night – in an eight-inch glass baking pan, really enough for four. The two of us ate it all, with a salad. Delicious.

Melanzane alla Parmigiana

One large eggplant, 1/4 inch slices
Salt
12 ounces Marinara Sauce
1 ball fresh Mozarella, sliced
Bread Crumbs
2 eggs, beaten
3 tablespoons flour
1/4 cup safflower oil
1.4 cup Parmesan Cheese

Several hours before cooking, place the slices in a large bowl and sprinkle liberally with salt. Let stand until ready to prepare. Rinse with cold water and dry on paper towels. Heat oil in large skillet to smoke point. Dip the eggplant slices in flour then eggs then bread crumbs and fry on both sides until golden and crispy. Drain on paper towel. In baking dish, spread a little of the marinara sauce, then layer eggplant, mozzarella, sauce, eggplant, sauce, parmesan. Place in 350 degree oven for about 30 minutes or until bubbly.

Thanks for listening. GB

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Holiday Packages

2010-01-05T15:23:00.000-08:00

The best part about the holidays are the children, of course, but a close second is creating holiday packages. I found this wonderful crinkly paper inside a box and used it for the outside of my packages. I liked it so much, I am using it for my packaging at Glazes.

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The December Tomato Harvest

2009-12-30T13:16:00.000-08:00

We are lucky enough to have a long growing season, but this was ridiculous!

Here I am, at six in the evening, on the way to a holiday party in late December, 2009, harvesting Roma Tomatoes from my vines right outside the back door. I made little packages of the tomatoes and other pasta ingredients and put them in the bowls I had made for the host and hostess of the party.

Late harvest tomatoes can be a bit tough in the skins, but the flavors are still there! Split them in half lengthwise, place on a baking sheet covered with parchment, sprinkle with olive oil, salt, pepper and herbs (I like Thyme and Tarragon, but the range is wide open) and slow roast for a couple of hours at 250°. Chop them up and toss with cooked pasta. Or place on a veggie sandwich. Delicious.

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Thanksgiving for Two

2009-11-25T16:05:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is certainly a time for gathering together. This year, our gathering was of two – just Ginna and David. It was by choice, having decided that, our lives being so full, and so full of people in a general way, rather than being a part of a party, we wanted to go out into the forest, and be… just us.

It was a day of giving thanks, and we found ourselves in contemplative moods, writing things down: people, events and, you know, stuff, for which we were grateful. My list included all my friends and family, to be sure. My granddaughters give me particular joy. But I am also grateful for soap and water, food on the table, tomatoes in the garden in November. Life force is abundant in Carmel Valley, and 65 degrees is often normal on Thanksgiving Day. I was grateful for sunshine.

Thanksgiving eve, I roasted a turkey thigh and a turkey breast, just enough bird for two reasonably hungry people to enjoy for several days. I put the pieces of bird into a 9” x12” glass pan, surrounded them with chunks of lemon, onion, garlic and fingerling potatoes. Poured over a little wine; sprinkled with salt, pepper, sage, rosemary and thyme; covered with parchment and stuck it in the oven. 20 minutes per pound meant about two hours. I took a bath. I combed my hair. I polished my toenails. When I was done to perfection, so was the bird and it’s accompaniments. I threw together a quick cranberry sauce (why does anyone, ever buy cranberry sauce in a can? It’s so easy!!!), steamed some asparagus, and our Thanksgiving eve feast was accomplished.

I remember so many other types of Thanksgivings – the ones whereon I started three days ahead, making the bread, the pies, the stuffing, the potatoes, the gravy, even the napkin rings, … oh my, what a To Do list I give myself sometimes. We would consume in half an hour way more food than we needed, roll onto the sofa, groan for several hours about how full we were while watching on television someone else play, oh, I don’t know, football, probably!

This felt good to me – just enough: no fuss, hardly any muss and thoroughly delicious. On Thanksgiving Day, we made turkey sandwiches (white meat with bread and butter pickles for him, dark meat with cranberry sauce for her) and headed into the Enchanted Forest. We munched our lunch in a grove of woodland clover, listening to the sounds of chirping birds and chittering squirrels. The sun filtered through the moss covered redwoods and dappled the toes of our boots. We talked about those things for which we were grateful, and the list expanded to include the conditions of our health (good) and the basic quality of our lives. We held hands and walked the trail. We saw a wood nymph, a Santa Cruz sprite with flower petal bell-bottoms and matching knit hat, smiling silently while crossing our path as she made her way into the woods.

It was very quiet, there in the Enchanted Forest. No buzz of traffic, not even a plane heard overhead. It was respite and replenishment to us both. We came home refreshed, thankful, and ready for whatever the rest of the holiday season will bring.

Thanks for listening. GB

Cranberry Sauce a la Ginna’s Café

One bag fresh cranberries, rinsed
One cup dried cranberries or dried cherries, chopped
1/2 cup orange juice
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/8 teaspoon dried orange peel
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
pinch of salt

Place all ingredients in a saucepan. Bring to boil. Turn heat down and simmer until cranberries begin to pop. Turn off heat. Mash with fork or pastry cutter. Set aside until ready to serve or chill.

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Mike and Mom's Excellent Adventure

2009-09-25T16:55:00.000-07:00

from the cook’s perspective

this is a long blog entry – no way to describe an experience like this any other way.

On the Tuesday before a long-weekend holiday, my son, Michael called to ask for the recipe for my relatively famous Warm Wild Rice Salad. It was a simple enough request. Out of curiosity, I asked what he wanted it for. The rest will become family history.

I knew he was a part of the American Tall Ship Institute (www.americantallship.com), a non profit created for the purpose of getting inner-city, at-risk kids aboard tall ships – not just to teach them sailing, but to give them a different perspective of life and adventure. Go to the above website link to see photos and to learn lots more about these special programs.

The Warm Wild Rice Salad was to be served as part of a luncheon aboard the Bill of Rights, a 146 foot schooner, currently harbored in San Pedro, California. The American Tall Ship Institute wants to buy it as part of its program development. Since Michael is one of the key characters of the group, and its primary fundraiser, he was quickly putting together a madcap adventure in the San Pedro harbor to raise funds to buy the Bill of Rights. They have to move fast. Another interested group is also close to the purchase of this beautiful ship, and, if they buy it, will haul it off to France.

So, before our phone call was over, Michael had moved right through the recipe request to, “Wait – would you just come with me to San Pedro and cook for this event? I mean, you make the salad… and the rest of lunch for 60 people… oh, and cook for the crew for the weekend as well.”

It’s hard for a mother to deny her kid anything, if it is in her power, even if her “kid” is 42 years old. As it happened, I was free that weekend and… agreed to go. I called my friends in LA, Gordon and Reparata, and said, get down there and bring your friends! It’ll be a hoot!

It certainly wasn’t as outrageous as the leap from an airplane at 13,500 feet with Dylan, as I described in a previous blog entry, but, for a non-sailor, well-known for, shall we say, a delicate tummy, it was certainly an out-of-the-box experience for me. The operative and convincing words were “the ship doesn’t leave the harbor,” which helped a lot. The story has a very happy ending. Follow the link just below to read the rest . . .

They were planning to take about 50 people sailing on another tall ship, the Irving Johnson; prospective donors with whom, during the sail, they would discuss the situation and encourage their participation in the quest for monies to buy the Bill of Rights. Then back to the Bill of Rights for a tour and lunch. (By the way, the Bill of Rights was to stay at the dock, with me aboard, because it, like me, is not quite sea-worthy at the moment, hence the sail on the Irving Johnson. Just an FYI.)

On Thursday, I gathered together my usual cook’s kit, including foodstuffs, my knives, baking sheets, pans, Food Processor and KitchenAid Mixer (if I do something, I want to do it right – and besides, we were traveling by truck, so I could take anything I wanted). I threw some clothes in a bag, slung my camera and computer cases over my shoulder and off we went on Friday afternoon, arriving seven hours later, in the dark.

My photos of the late-night arrival look like EKG printouts, wavering as I was on the mildly rocking ship. The “boys” (Michael, the ship’s Captain, Stephen Taylor, and a friend of his named Daniel), unloaded all my gear from the truck, down the ramp, up onto the boat and down the hatch.

The galley kitchen was as big as my dining room table – that is to say, extremely small. Definitely a “one-butt kitchen.” Nice eight-burner Wolf stove, however, and about eighteen inches of counter space. I’ve cooked in smaller spaces (Steven Seagal’s on-the-movie-set honeybucket being one), but this was entirely new.

As to my bunk: when I described it to my husband, David, over the phone as 6x6x6, he laughed and asked, “How big is it, really?” I said, “David - 6x6x6 – no kidding.” I had brought my own bedding: sheets, comforter, pillows, and boy! Was I glad. It made a nice cozy little nest: my gear stashed on the lower bunk, my bed above, my towel hung on a hook, my shoes in the corner.

Saturday morning there were the five of us (by then Scott had arrived), drinking coffee at 6am, contemplating the day, the clean up of the ship, the party, food, breakfast. I threw together some sort of meal made out of whatever Stephen had in his little fridge, made a grocery list, cleaned the galley, took a shower in the world’s tiniest stall and went off with Gail, a board member of the American Tall Ship Institute, to Costco. Let me see… what’s wrong with this picture?… Costco, Saturday afternoon, LA, a holiday weekend. That was a wonder in and of itself! But, we made it through the throngs of shoppers without much incident and made our way back to the ship where, once more, all my stuff was unloaded, tramped down the gangway, uploaded onto the ship and then down the hatch.

Meanwhile, more crew had arrived, fathers and daughters, fathers and sons, board members and sailors, and were busy sweeping, washing and generally spiffing up the ship for the arrival of all these prospective donors. I discovered the true meaning of “ship-shape” – these folks worked their fannies off all afternoon.

One of the highlights for me was the arrival on Saturday afternoon of three 20-something women named Amanda, Rosemary and Amber, in black and white striped t-shirts, who my son described as “Schooner Rats.” These beautiful babes make their way from harbor to harbor, yacht club to yacht club finding work aboard tall ships. They were all working on other ships nearby (the Exy Johnson, The Tully Moore and the Irving Johnson, respectively), but came to see Captain Stephen Taylor and found others, including Michael, whom they knew. Without skipping a beat, they pitched right in with the prep work for the party, chopping veggies, de-boning chicken, slicing bread, whatever it took to get ready. But the best part, other than their amazing attitudes and can-do spirits, was the two-hour serenade of sea shanties while chopping, slicing and dicing. In perfect harmony, they sang these hilarious, bawdy and perfectly off-color songs of the sea. It made me so happy I almost cried. There was something about the camaraderie and helpfulness, the cheerful atmosphere, the tiny galley full of stuff, the aroma of chocolate chip cookies baking in the semi-functional oven, that made me feel, at least for that moment, that all was right with the world. It seemed so right to be there. These people were all glowing with good health and love of their chosen lives.

I wasn’t the only one with lots of paraphernalia. Michael brought his BBQ and roasted several large pieces of wild pig for the crew while I threw together the pasta salad, greens and bread. Meanwhile, chop, slice, dice, bake and continual prep went on.

I fell into my bunk about 11, which brings me to the realities of sleeping aboard a tall ship docked next to a cargo-ship-unloading situation. Beep-beep-beep went the unloading warning signal all night. Drift off to sleep. Beep-beep-beep. Stay awake for a while. Drift off to sleep. Beep-beep-beep. Oh well, I thought. I’ll sleep when I get home. In three nights aboard the Bill of Rights I perhaps slept a total of 7 hours.

But, I only bumped my head once in the whole weekend – and not on the ceiling of my tiny bunk, but coming back up the ladder from below decks, without knowing that one of the crew, in the midst of cleaning, had half-closed the hatch cover. I had my visor on… what can I say? That and three broken fingernails, a tennis ball sized bruise from whacking into the stove handle, sore arms from pumping water out of the sink, schooner grime imbedded into my skin… but I’m getting ahead of my story.

My morning coffee is generally taken back to my bed where I read, meditate and sit next to my husband for about an hour before arising. Not so aboard the Bill of Rights. I noticed that when the cook (that would be me) was heard rattling around in the galley, the whole crew would seem to materialize, hopeful looks on their faces, empty cups in their hands. Many cups of coffee and platters of egg sandwiches later, it was time to get back to chop-chop.

The crew, after hoisting flags, hanging Tall Ship Art, more clean up and organizing, finally went off with their prospective fairy-godmothers and -fathers to sail on the Irving Johnson for several hours, which left just Gail and me to finish up lunch for the lot of them. By then we were pretty well together, and by the time the crew and company returned, we had two long tables on deck, spread with wine, beer, lemonade, water, and platters full of the, yes, Warm Wild Rice Salad, a rather masterful Pasta Salad, Roasted Mustard Potatoes, and the biggest pile of Tarragon Chicken Salad I ever made nested on a bed of shredded Romaine. I knew these people would be hungry. Although the temperamental oven didn’t do it justice, and didn’t cook it through, the guests loved the Berry Cobbler anyway. A bit on the juicy side, we made paper cups available, and it was gobbled right up – Purple Berry Cobbler Soup with real whipped cream (thank you, KitchenAid).

The usual clean–up ensued – I won’t waste time on it, except to say that other people did it – my friend Reparata and several crew members from the Irving Johnson. Thank you, thank you.

What I want to say, other than providing my readers with recipes for a somewhat smaller crowd, is this:

I will always be glad I jumped into this Tall Ship Adventure with my son. I watched him work alongside his peers. I saw him climb the mast. I saw how people love him. I met some amazing people and made new friends. I saw the intense belief in this project, and the dedication of these lovely people to a cause. I saw how time aboard these ships enhances everyone’s lives – the sea air, the hard work, the friendship, the shear beauty of the environment - the night sky, the full moon over the twinkling water, the sun in your eyes, the spray on your face.

I saw the honor and integrity of a group of people with a goal and the lengths to which they will go to get there. I felt keenly the commitment to the program, from Captain Steve and his board of directors right down to the Schooner Rats and their striped shirts, the visiting friends pitching in to help, even the little doggie, Cheppa, always at the Captain’s side.

I was deeply moved by their appreciation of me, each other, the ship. I almost cried again when, while we were all drinking Margueritas next door at the Acapulco after the big event, my son leapt to his feet to buy me a rose from a passing vendor. When he said to me, “Do you even half know how much I love you for this?” I almost cried again. OK, I did cry. Just a little.

I fell in love with all of them – the Captain, his crew, the dog, the ship itself - the kind of love that carries one through dark times, the kind that says, “I am here, I am making this world a better place, I am doing good things.”

As we packed the truck up again on Monday morning, getting ready to drive north, I stood in awe of the ship in its grandeur, the beauty of it, the magnificence. I hoped the American Tall Ship Institute gets this tall ship. But if they don’t, there will be another one for them, surely, because they are good honest people, making a difference in the lives of so many. I wish there were more like them in this world.

Recipes to follow soon. Thanks for listening. GB

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Dylan & Rachel, '93

2009-08-27T20:29:00.000-07:00

From the Awesome Veggie Reader (Late Summer, 1993)

My dear “step-children,” Dylan and Rachel, graduated from high school in June. Rather than buy presents that would soon appear in garage sales throughout the state, I offered them “experiences” of their choice.

Those experiences changed my life. Although we have been close for twelve years, our relationships deepened this summer. I’ll tell you why.

Rachel, who was once referred to by her second grade teacher as a flibberty-gibbet who couldn’t settle down or get serious, asked to go with me to the 1993 Summer Pilgrimage to Mt. Shasta with Huichol Indian Shaman, Brant Secunda. It was my third year on the mountain with Brant and I looked forward to sharing it with Rachel.

At first she wondered what she was doing there. “How much chanting, praying, drumming and singing can we do in seven days? I wonder if I can get out of this…” But, by the evening if the second day, she had collected many hearts and friends in her usual way, had settled into the rituals and routine of dance, dirt and drums and… began to enjoy herself.

I chose not to go on vision quest that year, but to participate in the support-team fire circle of chanters and drummers, sleeping by the campfire, drumming at midnight and praying for the successful vision quests of those who walked into the mountains on their own for the night, without protection, food or water.

At first, Rachel wasn’t about to go out there alone, planning to spend the evening with me and ten others who chose to keep vigil by the fire. At the eleventh hour (an I do mean the last minute), she gathered her courage, along with some warm clothes and a sleeping bag, and off she went.

She looked so small and young as she disappeared into the forest, her blonde hair tied in a scarf and her bare feet in Birkenstocks. I knew she would be all right, but still…

After a sleepless night of prayer and song by the fire, we watched the hillside for our 60 friends returning. They straggled in, one at a time, beginning at first light. A motley crew, a bedraggled band, a groggy group they were: and we, too, who had kept them in our thoughts for 24 hours. But they beamed with self-love and satisfaction, particularly the young and first timers. I breathed a secret sigh of relief when I saw her form appear on the edge of camp, her face a journal of thoughts.

Rachel met a shaman, made friends and learned something about herself that summer.

Dylan, on the other hand, chose to put our lives at considerable risk, by jumping out of an airplane at 13,500 feet. See the drawing to the right? (One of those lame, 90's line drawing I mentioned in the previous posting) Just how I looked as I hurled through space, panic uppermost in my mind.

It was not in my thoughts or plans to do this crazy thing myself, it just seemed to happen. I got caught up in the moment, as they say, and before I knew it I was signing a form that practically gave my life away… and in fact, said, “I understand that sky-diving is a dangerous sport and can result in bodily injury or even death.” That was encouraging, and as I dressed in one of those Pillsbury Doughboy flight suits and listened to Jess, my tandem jump master’s instructions (it did NOT help that his name was the same as my brother’s) my lunch of guacamole, chips and Dos Equis rose to throat level and stayed there for the duration of the “experience.”

Dylan kept saying “G, I can’t believe you’re doing this with me!!” I kept saying, “I can’t believe I’m freaking doing this,” over and over again. I was wondering if I was a very gutsy and courageous person or if I had completely lost my mind. For those who know me, this was a truly awesome undertaking, no pun intended. My usual favorite sport is reading, with a cup of tea, by a very warm fire.

I’m not sure I even heard the tandem master’s words, “Ready! Set! Go!” That was when I was supposed to jump. Since we were attached, he jumped and I had no choice at that point but to go along for the ride of my life.

I cannot express the feeling that came over me as I looked out of the open door of the King Air at 2.5 miles above my precious earth and contemplated what I was about to do. I wasn’t quite there, if you know what I mean. I checked my brains at the front desk with the coats and literally floated through the event, brainless and therefore protected from myself and my logic.

We each have videos of our “experience” of skydiving... for proof and for memories. At the end of my video, I am seen hugging Dylan with all my might for about ten minutes, my face still pasted back into my hairline from the G-force. (Oh, and let us not dwell on the fact that Dylan’s first chute malfunctioned and they had to eject it in favor of the back-up chute. He truly loved every moment and even went back the next day with a friend for a repeat experience. Truly his father’s son.)

Dave, one of the owners of SkyDive Hollister and the person I blame wholly for my having succumbed to this, said to me, as part of his accomplished sales number, “You and Dylan will bond for life. Besides, you’ll never look at life quite the same again.)

Well, Dave, my friend, you were right. My only regret is that I never did really relax: I was so completely poleaxed with abject fear that my body was frozen for the entire one minute free fall, which, of course, is also captured on video. But, it was a kind of fire-walk for me, a stretch of my courage and surrender into the hands of fortune. That indescribable feeling upon vaulting into the air comes again and again, and I say to myself, “GB, ol’ girl, you did it, you actually did. HA!”

Thank Dylan. We ARE bonded for life.

Thanks for listening. GB

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The Awesome Veggie Reader

2009-08-07T19:23:00.000-07:00

In 1991 I was living in St. Helena, California. I was a seven-year veteran of the MAC World, having gone through the Classic, the SE and then, I think, the 2CI, or some such spelling. It was a wee while ago. It was a skinny little thing my Mac guru, Clifford, called the “pizza box.” We thought it was so cool because it was skinny. Little did we know.

Armed with SuperPaint, the beginner’s graphic application of the day, and some Astro Bright yellow paper, I launched The Awesome Veggie Reader, a bi-monthly newsletter, kind of a tree-ware blog: stories, recipes and tips for the kitchen. Some ideas die hard. Here I am today, with Ginna’s Café, my virtual kitchen/studio. It’s basically the same, only with more years behind me and more information under my belt, including a much more sophisticated computer (17” PowerBook G4) and way more powerful programs (InDesign, Photoshop, and all that) and my own personal webmaster (www.spiritsound.com)!

In essence, though, it is the same. Sharing thoughts, ideas and recipes with people who love to cook, grow things and make stuff. My readership back then was about 60 dedicated folks who subscribed for $18 a year and received 6 newsletters (in yellow), at least ten innovative recipes per issue and stories that at least I thought were interesting. Now, Ginna’s Café is online, and lots of it is free.

As I leaf back through issues of the Awesome Veggie Reader, I notice several things. First, the clip art is so… lame! Where did I get that stuff? Odd little line drawings full of… dots! Wow. I stand by the recipes, though, even if the typography is a little… unstructured. Everything seems to be in a size 12 font, probably Times, and, actually, there are more different kinds of display fonts than sense!

At the time, I belonged to a local Ghee Club, a group of six people who loved Ayurveda, read everything that Dr. Deepak Chopra wrote, and made ghee for each other in turns. We all practiced the ancient Ayurvedic lifestyle as much as we could, visited with a semi-local Ayurvedic Practitioner, and ate lots and lots of ghee: ghee on rice, ghee on vegetables, ghee on toast. Even ghee on graham crackers. Oooh, that was memorable. (Check the Free Stuff Page on my Ginna's Cafe website for a Ghee Recipe)

Another “Little did I know” moment: two years later, I was working for Dr. Chopra myself, making ghee by the bucketsful and designing menus for spa guests undergoing the cleansing treatment at the Chopra Center for Well Being in La Jolla, California.

I loved writing and producing the Awesome Veggie Reader. It was filled with notes on my spiritual practice, recipes gleaned from years of experimenting, and a place for me to focus my love of everything creative. I’ll reproduce some of the AVR here, for your, I hope, pleasure and edification. Recipes will appear on the FREE STUFF page of the website. Stories will emerge here. Next Blog entry: Another Awesome Summer, direct from the AVR, wherein I take my 18 year old step-children, Dylan and Rachel, on adventures.

Thanks for listening. GB

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