3, 2, We Are Live!

I stepped WAAAYYY outside of my comfort zone last night ... and the stepping out began about two weeks ago. A local, Al Chavez, routinely posts events on his Facebook page. I get his notifications. I don't often attend anything, but when I saw that Jeff Bridges and the Abiders were coming back to the Maverick, I immediately called for ticket pricing. At $40 a ticket, I thought it would be criminal not to go. Hmm ... didn't really want to go alone. I mean, I could, sure, I'm a grown girl - how hard could it be to walk in to a bar-cum-concert hall, order a drink, find a seat, and enjoy live music? Well, not very difficult at all. Still, I would be MUCH more comfortable if someone I knew were with me. But who did I want that someone to be?????

I tapped my daughter's father, David. We've been apart for a LOT longer than we were together - but have remained friends. Not the sort of friends who see each other all the time, but we certainly are clued in to one another's lives. I told him what was happening, and he said if he could get a dog sitter, he was all in. Anna came through for him, and he headed north.

Keith and Kristen joined us for dinner, with all parties contributing to the dinner. Simple fare, steak, potatoes au grautin, a delicious salad, and a Pinot Noir and a Cab Sav. Kristen brought cookies from a recipe her daughter created that morning, and we finished the meal with white chocolate-macadamian nut cookies. Pretty darn good, too.

Before I even realized it, it was 8:30 and time to walk down to the Maverick. We were four rows from the front, on the far left side of the room. (Just an aside: being that I am deaf in my left ear - to human sounds - so weird!, I always gravitate to that side, so that my ear is to the world, if you will.) The five of us - me, David, my girlfriend Annmarie (in LA from Nashville - how cool is THAT?!) and her two friends - took up most of that row. 

The crowd was rowdy, excited, joy-infused. Well, most of us were, at any rate. I got up to dance, and glanced at the couple in the row behind ours ... the woman was asleep! How she managed to do that is beyond me, but there she was, peacefully sleeping. Amazing.

I hadn't danced anywhere other than my home in years. Literally. Man, it was a blast! Even got Annmarie to get up and dance with me for a few minutes. She was wearing these amazing boots ... I'm sure hand-stitched, pieces of red dancing all over them. She fit in as if she were born to Santa Ynez. Me? I was in stilettos and jeans, a black sleeveless top. Not exactly born to Santa Ynez .... but I didn't care. It was entirely too much fun to be there.

As I was climbing back into my seat from the wild dance, it dawned on me - this was the first uninhibited outing I'd had in .... well, I couldn't remember back that far. And I vowed, right then and there, to make it the first of many to come.

I'm not sure if the world is ready for me to 'come out of the closet', if you will .... but I am! Look out!!

It Takes a Village to Cook a Dinner - the Aftermath of Post: Ah, The Delights of Food ....

I promised to relay Peter's thoughts after the dinner Sunday night .... however, before we can get to Sunday, there are several stories that need to be told, so get comfortable, grab a glass of wine, and let us take a walk, shall we?

Friday, a full week and two days prior to the dinner, menu nailed down, wines sort of nebulously chosen, and I'm having my hair cut. My hairdresser is amazing - truly an artist. She and her husband own Chef's Touch catering, and used to run a restaurant. So I share the menu with her, wanting her input. Remember, Peter is a foodie and has an amazing palette when it comes to wines, and I really want to nail this out of the park, like he always does for me. I had chosen J Brut Rose as the sparkling, and JoEllen suggested I use Roederer, instead. Remember that, because it comes back later. I'd never had it, never heard of it (yes, I am as much a creature of habit when it comes to wine as I am when it comes to cooking - part of what makes these forays so much fun is that I delve into areas not normally pursued by me), but trusted Jo implicitly. Okay, Roederer it was. The sparkling was still a dry rose, and would lend itself to the creation of the Mignonette I was going to create for dipping. Okay, appetizer course all finished. Except - wait a second here - I've never opened a live oyster in my life. As far as I knew, oysters came on a bed of ice, lemon garnish and weird sauces getting in the way of that briny, yet somehow earthy, goodness. Ah, heck, and I'm a klutz. So I'm supposed to hold these very sharp shells in one hand, take a knife in the other hand, and look for the 'foot' - I thought that was a terrorist group of Ninjas that the Teenage Mutant Turtles put to rest a long time ago - who knew it belonged to the oyster? Not me! And panic sets in ... am I going to have to ask Peter to show up, after tasting some of the better (in my opinion) wines in the Valley and open oysters? Crap - I was going to have to change the dang menu. And then JoEllen's husband Kurt walked into the shop. He grabbed a glass of champagne, came over to where Jo was working on my hair, and I asked if he'd critique a menu for me. Sure, of course, was the answer. I rattled off the Roederer champagne with oysters and that M sauce word I can't pronounce. He laughed, pronounced it for me, yep, that's it, I agreed, and we moved on to the second course. I was going to do a seared scallop and pair it with Chennin Blanc. He suggested not doing three fish courses, but rather using the middle course as a palette cleanser. Well, it was initially going to be a tomato bisque, I confessed. He suggested mixing that idea up a bit, by doing a chopped tomato-cucumber salad, put a ball-shaped serving in the middle of the plate, ring it with bisque, a little thicker than normal, served warm, and pair it with the Chennin Blanc and some crusty French bread. JoEllen told me to go to the Baker's Table in town for the best bread ever, and my second course was adjusted. Okay, on to the third course - salmon. A fish I eat if I'm having bagels and lox. Not a fish I've ever cooked, or ever sought to cook, or ever even thought I'd want to cook. Yet here I was, about to cook salmon filets. I'd found a great recipe, with shitakes and red wine sauce, served over wild rice. But it didn't really say anything about how to prep the salmon - just shove it in the oven. Instinctively, I already knew I'd be using my iron skillet - but surely there had to be more to it than that? Oh, yes, Chef Kurtie agreed with me - much more! He cautioned me that there was no fresh salmon to be had; no worries. I didn't eat salmon - how different could it be, fresh from not? He hooked me up with the contact for the oysters, told me how to prepare the salmon, and, before I left with a brilliant hair cut, he'd agreed to come to the house at 4:00 on THE DAY to shuck the oysters for me. Okay, this was all coming together! Excitement continued to bloom ....

The following day I stopped at Keith and Kristen's house, my family in every respect but blood, and I shared the menu with them. When I said 'salmon', Kristen shared a glance with Keith, who suddenly disappeared into the laundry-pantry off the kitchen, and came back with a big slab of pink fish. 'Salmon,' he pronounced, 'caught by my son-in-law Shaun. Fresh wild Alaskan salmon. Here.'

Oh hell .... this was getting better and better. Keith told me how to thaw it out to get to the point I could begin the 24-hour dry-rub refrigerated stage Kurtie had suggested I use. Suddenly I felt like I could really do this - chop scallions (ick!), slice and dice onions (so not a fan), ruin champagne by pouring it over scallions, skin a salmon (gulp!), and actually pull off this meal.

Fast forward - Sunday. Grocery shopping done, back home, ready to begin getting the house ready for company. I've decided I should entertain at least once a month - that way, my house will get cleaned at least once a month. I even polished the outside of my front door - it looks like a different door! Sorry - I digress. Before I stared cleaning, I shot a quick text to Kurtie: 'can you still come by around 4 and shuck oysters for me?'. I set my phone aside and went into frenzied cleaning mode. By two that afternoon, I'd not heard from Kurtie. Panic set in. So I went to the people I always go to when I panic. "Kristen! Where are you guys?" They were shopping for the house, out and about. But she said they'd be home by 4, and sure, I could come by with oysters and Keith would shuck them. Great - I calmed down immediately. Now to finish cleaning the house, then clean me, walk the dog, and it'll be time to head to Keith and Kristen's house. The Little Boy began really tugging on the lead as we approached the steps leading to my house, so I quickened my pace, head down as I focused on not falling (knee was acting up and the walking was terrifically painful) - and damn near ran straight into Keith. He and Kristen had been at the furniture store immediately beneath my flat, so he decided to come up and take care of the oysters here. Oh, blessings upon blessings!

He washed them. Who knew you had to wash an oyster? That step would never have occurred to me. He was struggling with oyster number three when my screen door was thrown open and a voice called out, "Is this where the party is?" and in walked Kurtie. It was 4:03; he'd sent me a text at 3:57 saying he'd be there. In short work, he knocked out the other ten oysters, arranged them between layers of ice on a plate, and then he and Keith were walking out the door. I was left alone with just my food and my dog.

Every single aspect of the meal had been touched by the people in my life .... in one format or another. 

When Peter saw the sparkling, he said he'd just had it the night before at the Wine Cask. Obviously he liked it; already I was feeling pretty good about this. When he questioned the amount of oysters, I told him I'd be more than willing to eat his share. He enjoyed the Mignonette, I ate the oysters all alone - why spoil one of Nature's most perfect foods? - and before we even knew it the oysters were gone. "I guess the portions really were perfect," he admitted as he helped clear the table. 

The bisque was being stored in a plastic tub that originally held arborio rice, and when I spooned it around the tomato-cucumber salad, Peter looked at me a little funny. "What?" I asked. "I thought it was dry," he said. "Nope, it's bisque." In fact, it was warm bisque. I handed him a plate and a small fork, sliced the warmed French bread, and joined him at the table. "A fork? Not a spoon?" he asked. Dutifully, I returned to the kitchen and pulled out two spoons, giving him one, taking one myself. "No, if you think I won't need the spoon," he began, but I just waved the comment off, eager to taste this combination recommended by Kurt. Amazing - I'd added mushrooms to my bisque, since I really liked the way the mushrooms deepen the sweeter notes of the tomato, and it would be a nice flow into the main course and the shitake mushrooms being used therein. But the fresh tomato and cucumber, with that heavy, earthy bisque? Oh my goodness - perfect! The Chennin Blanc was just round enough to marry to the bisque, just crisp enough to make the cucumber shine. And the French bread was every bit as delicious as JoEllen promised me it would be. All in all, the second course was a hit. As I picked up Peter's spoon, clearing the table, he said, "I never used it; it's still clean."

Salmon with Shitake and Red Wine Sauce

Now for the main course - still to cook, salmon, shitakes, green bean almondine. Eight minutes later, we were sitting at the table, glass of Burgundy, also known as 100% Pinot Noir, nestled beside our plates. I was hesitant - I mean, salmon? Wild rice? Really? But everything else had gone just as promised, which is to say perfectly, so I took a bite. A bit of shitake, a bit of salmon, a bit of rice, all with a hint of red wine reduction sauce .... closed my eyes, and slid into culinary heaven. I focused on all those different flavors, wanting to determine which part was my favorite. I finally determined there was no favorite - that it worked together because it was supposed to go all together, and then I stopped thinking about it and just focused on enjoying it.

When every last bit of food had disappeared from our plates, the last of the wine emptied from the carafe, Peter paid the ultimate compliment: "Not only did everything work well together and taste delicious, the portions were perfect. Excellent, Natalie."

Yeah, I pulled a Tina - nailed it right out of the park. Thanks to my Village.

The Box! ! ! !

Journal Entry, 14 February 2014

I realize - after reading Keith's email several times, reviewing the contents of the box over and over - that the pieces Chrissy sent me were, in fact, cherished by Philip - because I gave them to him. He kept everything I ever gave him - she was showing me his love, the constance, the depth, of it.

I was bitter - disappointed - when I first opened the box. But again, I read Keith's email: 'put aside your expectations and accept what is offered.'

And that's what turned me around - Philip kept everything. He made a list, entitled 'Things I Like'. There were two names on this list, one on the left hand side of the page, one on the right. 'Natalie' was on the left, 'Chrissy' was on the right. He recorded everything he loved to do with me - the only other person he did that for was his daughter.

The bear, the cat, the pillow - they'll sit on my bench in my bedroom. The card I had sent with the bear, cat and pillow rests on my desk, next to his photo. He kept it all these years - and knowing my boy, he looked at it often.

I guess I was hoping to find more - something to make the emptiness go away. And yet, that's exactly what Chrissy sent me - proof of who I was to Philip - through 'the things they carried'.

Here's the thing - this offering - so not what I expected, so less, and yet somehow, so much more, is addressing that emptiness. The knowing - I thought I knew how he loved me, who I was to him, but obviously I didn't. I wouldn't be in such conflict if I knew, on my soul level.

Chrissy gave me that - by giving me tangible proof of his love, of his heart, of him.

I toasted him - his honor, his respect, his love, his ever-constant protection - his heart, his dark, his light. I couldn't see through my tears, could barely feel my fingers as I held on so tight.

This box - these pieces? Of me, to him, and back again? Twofold message: first volley, he's really gone. Second volley, he never ever let me go.

Maybe that's what's so challenging to deal with - he's had my back since I was 14. Sometimes too much so, to my chagrin, but always there. The hole his passing left in my life was huge - affecting all levels of my being. It wasn't until this box that I realized i'd been hiding behind my pain - living a half-life and saying I was in mourning.

I'll mourn him for the rest of my days.

But I will no longer hide behind him - I'll celebrate him, live my life, fully.

Honor what he offered to me - what is always there for me. His heart.

God Philip I miss you ....

Full Circle

My friend Philip has been gone since June 15, 2012. Unfortunately, I remember his date of death. I say unfortunately, because I'd rather not remember that particular date. I'd rather remember his date of birth. Celebrate his life. As I do with my dad - I remember that my father died in March of 1990. That's as close as I come. So I get to celebrate his birth, every year, on January 5th. As I've done all of my life.

Why am I telling you this? Well, for one thing, because it's a peek into the inner workings of what, at times, is a very twisted mind. And no, for those of you reading ahead, it's not necessarily a good twist.... But mainly, because today something momentous is going to happen.

Chrissy, Philip's beloved daughter, is sending me the things Philip had earmarked for me to have in the event he was ... gone. She told me only that she included white sage in the box, along with lavender, so that I might cleanse the energy when it arrived. 

I'm finding it challenging to stay focused today. The box is arriving! Philip will be with me, even if only for a moment. I am practically trembling with anticipation.

Have you ever watched a puppy waiting for his food? The entire body quivering as you prepare the meal for the little guy, eyes never leaving the food dish, even as his entire being shakes and trembles with excitement. And then, when the dish is finally down, he leaps into the air and spins in a circle, smiling, wriggling, beyond ecstatic. Well, I'm not sure I could execute the leap and spin, but I know my heart will be doing exactly that.

Philip's picture - okay, several pictures - sits upon the corner of my desk, where I can see him every day. The bear I gave him, returned to me in June of 2012, rests upon my sideboard, where I can see it from anywhere in the front room. The books he's given me through the years are scattered throughout my bookcases. And the journal he sent me, when he was actively burning all his journals, the one with a hole through it - the bullet meant for his heart only pierced the journal - sits on my desk. In short, he is everywhere in my home, as he has always been. Always.

And now, the anticipation of whatever it is he wanted me to have - and the 'surprises' Chrissy included - well, I'm nearly hyperventilating. 

I'll not open the box at work ... I'll wait, until my day is done, and I've walked my baby boy Tucker, watched him do his happy dance as I prepare his food, poured myself a Jack on the rocks, put my Scottish ballad music on by Steve MacDonald, candles lit in honor of my sweet boy - then, and only then, will I finally open the box.

And no matter what I find, I know tears will flow. Healing tears, as my beloved boy comes home.

Be Careful What You Ask For!

How many times have you heard that expression? Used that expression? Come to hate that expression???

I was bored at work. My client had agreed to take me for a full 40-hour week, but the work wasn't there to support the hours. So I'm getting paid a pretty nice penny to read books and play solitaire. (I know, why wasn't I working on my writing, you ask - the answer is simple and yet ... not. It's challenging to slip into my creative head when I have to be 'on' for the client at any given moment ... it became less onerous on my own psyche to veg out with a silly online game than to delve deep into my head.) This is frustrating for the client, as they are the ones paying me, and frustrating for me, as I loathe being bored.

The client decided to ask the CPA firm that does the annual taxes if they needed seasonal help - share me, if you will. Unfortunately, the CPA firm didn't need any help. But, the partner that works with the client came through with an ... opportunity. A winery client of hers was looking for a part-time bookkeeper. So, one thing led to another, and I found myself sitting high on a hill, the week before Christmas, talking with a family about perhaps keeping their books.

My background is reviewed, the work they are wanting from me is discussed - deal! I left that hilltop with my first-ever client that I actually solicited ... well, was recommended to but had to sell myself to get the position. I was so excited! I remember nearly dancing to the car, floating on air as I drove off the hill, singing all the way home.

The holidays came and went, and suddenly it was the first Tuesday when I would begin working with this new winery client. I thought I knew what I was in store for .... I mean, they'd been pretty frank with me. I really thought I knew what to expect.

Man, was I ever wrong! And the deeper I delve, the more I discover broken pieces and parts.

And I find myself, twelve hours into my day, longing for the days of boredom, where there was little to do, and exhaustion came about because my brain was atrophying. 

Be very careful what you ask for .... you just might get it!

I'm putting that up there with the great Chinese curse - 'May you live in interesting times.'

Ahem ... yes, well, back to the books ..... glass of wine in hand. Hey, I'm working for a winery, I should at least chill-ax while doing so, right?

Ah the Delights of Food ....

I have a friend that I see a few times a year, and when we do get together, we cook. I could say we cook for one another, but let's face it, whenever I cook, I cook first and foremost for me. Sure, I want the guests to enjoy the meal, have a pleasant - if not outstanding - experience, but it all has to begin with my palette.

My palette has changed considerably since I first came to this lovely little Valley in 1998. My neighbors were wine makers and foodies to the stupid degree, and they taught me to savor, to explore, to play. I've always loved to cook, but never really ventured into anything that could remotely be considered as 'gourmet' fare. Until the day I made osso buco for the four of us. Bruno walked in, saw what I was making, and immediately began to 'help' me. Bruno, Italian through and through, helps by doing. Sort of instructing - but loving to get his hands on the food, in the creation, be part of the process. And in watching him tend that meat so lovingly, the fragrant scent of slow-cooking beef filling the entire house, the exquisite tenderness of the finished product, the rich deep gravy that accompanied the meat .... well, so began my love-affair with real food. 

Since then, I'll break out new recipes once in a while. Okay, more and more now, simply because it's fun to step outside of my comfort zone with food and keep learning, keep exploring, keep developing a palette. I've discovered something, though. If I can't actually imagine the taste of the finished product as I read a recipe, it will never please me. I've tried it a few times - the ingredients all sounded right, the flavor notes should flow and mingle and generally have a party in my mouth, and it was flat. Like being the only sober person at a very drunken New Year's Eve soiree, sort of leaves you wondering why the hell you were even there. So I need to actually visualize, with my mouth (sounds weird, huh?), the taste of the dish, smell the earthy notes of the meat, the salt notes of the sea. Otherwise, well, it's just a bunch of stuff on a plate.

And, as I've developed my palette, I've learned it needn't be fancy food. My girlfriend Tina cooked for me years ago, a simple Panko-breaded halibut,  married it with Bruno's Pinot Grigio - everything was so in balance. Whenever I think of Halibut, it is that meal I remember. Exquisite. Because she nailed it. Got all the flavor notes to sing, play, party and dance ... that's what a memorable meal is, to me. Sure, the company is great, the conversation always scintillating - and it seems the more wine you drink, the more scintillating the conversation becomes - but when those flavor notes are all in balance, well, it's Nirvana.

My friend Peter is coming to dinner next week - he lives about six hours away, so we see each other infrequently. And when we do see each other, depending upon what city we are in, one of us is cooking for the other. The first time I dined at Peter's house, I was beyond intimidated. He prepared a menu for us! On heavy card stock! I've saved all the menus, because I'd never experienced such a thing before. The next time he was in my neck of the woods and I cooked, I prepared a menu - on one of those erase-boards that you wipe clean. I can still hear his shout of laughter when he saw the board. So he does formal, I do ... not. His cooking is amazing. He loves to play, he understands flavor notes, he's a wine connoisseur ... quite frankly, he intimidates me when I cook for him. Which is why I always try and pull a Tina - nail that right out of the park. 

I've been playing with ideas for about four weeks, and finally have settled on the menu. As I read the recipes, I can actually taste the food - even taste the wines and sparkling that I'll be pairing with it. It's different from what I initially envisioned ... I'm no longer cooking anything I'm familiar with. Oh, but the excitement about tasting these foods ... Huge!

Stay tuned - because I'll circle back after our dinner next week, and share with you whether my mouth agreed with my mind, and let you know what Foodie Peter has to say about things....