The Ties That Bind

One thing that I love about food is the way that it can bring people together.  There is some sort of connection in my brain between food and happy moments.  Show me an anise biscotti and I think of my mom at Christmas when I was young and the many loaves of warm, licorice scented, almond studded cookies she turned out for friends and family.  A mimosa immediately puts me in a sailboat, whistling across Bellingham Bay with my dear friend JJ, her mom and dad, my mom, each of us with a mimosa in hand.  Joyfully, my land locked, ranch-raised, adorable husband is at the helm for the first time in his life, with the biggest grin ever.

I spent yesterday with my aunt, her mom, my cousin's wife and my daughter making relish.  No, this post is not going to be about the relish; however, it is amazing and it does bring wonderful thoughts of family to mind.  This story is actually about a quiet, unsuspecting bystander. While waiting for our vegetable mixture to boil, my daughter and I noticed a piece of dessert wrapped up tightly in a dish on the counter. Evidently, my cousin's wife had discovered a recipe and made a sour cherry and rhubarb crisp the night before.  While we polished off the last piece of crisp I begged for the recipe.  Now, this is a recipe that memories are made of!

Rhubarb Sour Cherry Crisp

By The Canadian Living Test Kitchen

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If you use fresh sour cherries, soaking isn't necessary.

This recipe makes 8 servings

Nutritional information available online.

Ingredients

1 cup11 Cupcup 1 cup pitted sour cherries or dried sour cherries6 cups 6

cups 6 cups sliced fresh rhubarb or frozen rhubarb, (thawed) 1 cup 1 cup

 1 cup granulated sugar 2 Tbsp tbsp

2 Tbsp all-purpose flour

Topping:

1 cup 11 cup cup all-purpose flour

2/3 cup 2/32/3 cup cup granulated sugar

1 1 pinch ground nutmeg

pinch cinnamon

1 pinch 1 pinch pinch  cipi1 pinch 1 pinch pinsalt1/3 cup 1/3

1/3 cup cup cold butter, cubed

Preparation:

If using dried cherries, soak in boiling water for 15 minutes; drain and set aside.

In large bowl, toss together rhubarb, cherries, sugar and flour; spread in lightly greased 8-inch (2 L) square glass baking dish.

Topping: In bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon and salt ; using pastry blender, cut in butter until crumbly. Press into small clumps.

 Scatter over rhubarb mixture.

Bake in 375°F (190°C) oven for about 45 minutes or until bubbling and topping is golden and crisp.

Some of my topping sunk under all the wonderful juice of the fruit.  Not to worry! The juices thicken and create this amazing tart, sweet filling and the topping (whether on top or not) provide the perfect sweet contrast.  You must make this and create a wonderful new memory, tonight!

My Path

My Path

I love to follow a path.  The town where I grew up, Bellingham, is recognized for having a great many paths winding about within the city limits.  There are paths for walkers and joggers, paths for bicycles, paths for motorcycles, even paths for horses.  My favorite path in Bellingham encircles the small lake where I used to swim as a child.  It is a nice wide path, providing plenty of room for faster movers to pass as well as providing a sense of safety.  There are places along the way that take you quite close to the shoreline. On sunny days the glimmer of light across the surface of the water is divine. You may even catch a glimpse of a jumping fish or a bird in flight, swooping for the bugs that hover over the water.  Other sections of the path wind through a deeply wooded forest of Douglas fir, maple, and other various trees.  The shade is a welcome coolant during the summer months and during a rain storm, the thick branches overhead serve as a protective shelter.  Another thing I really enjoy about this path is that it has a few hills that provide variety, challenge and a sense of accomplishment on my journey. 

Sometimes there are obstacles or features that make a path less desirable to me.  We have a beautiful aspen grove that borders our driveway.  The beauty of the quaking leaves catches my eye, especially on a hot August afternoon.  There is a small creek that meanders through the trees and the tempting song of the water across the rocks calls to me.  The underbrush is thick and in many spots you would have to be a rabbit to make progress unscathed.   One year, my dear husband cleared a narrow path for me just so I could wander out and enjoy the cool shade of the grove.  Unfortunately, the local bear population hears the same tune. They love to forge their way through and lie down in the shallow water and sleep away the afternoon.  Not an obstacle I wish to contend with, so that path is now overgrown and untraveled.

Each of us has to choose our own path. Yes, I am adding a philosophical twist to this discussion.   Looking back, I have to acknowledge that I did not follow the exact path my parents dreamed for me.  I know their deepest and strongest hopes and prayers were for my sister and me to be happy and healthy; and a college education would not hurt.  I am confident that there were times when they saw obstacles in my path that I did not or would not acknowledge.  Some of those obstacles provided me with pain and lessons learned the hard way.  Others proved not to be obstacles at all, and I was able to keep cruising along without a struggle.

 As a parent, I now face learning to let my children choose their own path.  In the early years it is our responsibility to teach our children how to walk and go out into the world. We are careful to steer them clear of obstacles and point them in the right direction.  As they get older the obstacles change, instead of a sharp edged table or the business end of a grumpy cat, there are skipped classes, speeding cars, drugs, and heartbreaking loves.  We do all we can to teach the basics; be kind, respect others, eat your vegetables, etc.  There comes a time when we have to let go and trust that they will find their own path. It is a personal journey.  “Your word is lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” (Psalm 119.105 NRSV) Note the “my” as opposed to “the” or “mom’s” path?  Hear my prayers, Oh Lord.