Remember when I was lamenting over a friend’s gift of a bunch of bruised, brown bananas? I took readers’ advice and used those sorry specimens to make banana bread. And what a loaf it is! Every morning before work, I cut myself a large slab and slather it with homemade lemon curd, made from David Lebovitz’s recipe here. It’s kind of sad to think that breakfast is the highlight of my day.

The banana bread recipe comes from Cook’s Illustrated , my go-to guide for everything culinary these days. I tweaked it a bit by adding a quarter cup of both raisins and chocolate chips because that’s the kind of mood I’m in these days (gluttonous), though  I stopped short when the recipe instructed me to “shingle your loaf.” I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. It sounded wrong. Plus I’d already run out of bananas.

We planted this asparagus patch while I was pregnant with June. Nearly three years later, this is where we’re at. It’s pathetic! It will be another two years before the patch is even established. Five years for asparagus, people.

June has been gone for nearly a week now and I miss her like crazy. This is the longest we’ve ever been apart. Hurry up and get home, Jake and June! (They’re due home tomorrow! Yah!)

I’ve had a lot of time to think this week, and it occurred to me that Jake and I have been apart more than three years of our decade together. That seems insane to me! And we will likely spend another year or so apart if he gets deployed again.  I guess I’ve reconciled that aspect of our relationship — when you marry a soldier, it comes with the territory — and I’ve learned to handle it but, man, is it hard to go without my little girl for even a few days.

What’s the longest you’ve gone without your family? A day? A weekend? A month? Years?

In the meantime, Solha has been keeping me company. She’s been coming to work with me everyday. Snoozing next to me in my office can’t be as fun as scampering across open fields with Jake, but it’s better than leaving her home alone. I’m sure she’ll attack Jake the moment she sees him (attack him with kisses, that is); we both will.

It’s been several months since I put myself on a Consumption Diet, my effort to cut the waste of my life in which I abstained from buying myself anything new but the essentials for a period of five months — no clothes, no shoes, no makeup. I didn’t even buy myself stuff from the Dollar General, Dollar Tree or Family Dollar. That’s when you know you’re really suffering for a cause. When you forego the $1 sunglasses at the Dollar Tree.  I lived like an ascetic Obi Wan for the most part, with the exception of a few major but necessary expenditures. I had to buy both a new washing machine and vacuum when our old ones broke and I had to snap up a pair of mint condition LL Bean duck boots that cried out to me at the Goodwill because they were only $3.50. Other than that, I went without. (Oh wait, I bought Hilary Mantel’s Bring Up the Bodies – a book I didn’t care for, by the way — a few music purchases from iTunes, and knock-off Thonet bentwood chairs and table for $35.)

As I’ve mentioned, the Consumption Diet was surprisingly easy. I didn’t feel much deprived throughout. This is primarily because there is little temptation to shop around here (the most popular store in town is Walmart) and I lack all imagination when it comes to conjuring up cool new stuff to buy. I can’t think of anything (except a new, kickin’ sound system for my home).

If there’s one immediate downside to the Consumption Diet, it’s this: I got rid of so many clothes during the rummage sale and I haven’t bought myself anything new for five months that my closet is looking a little, um, jaundiced and sallow  these days.  As in, drab. As in, dated like Monica from Friends. I’m going to have to stock up on some new clothes at some point which totally defeats the purpose of the Consumption Diet! But what can I say? Life is too short to dress like a J Chuckles model.

Now that June is two and a half, she says all sorts of funny stuff. She cracks us up everyday. Even though 80 percent of what she says is parroting us, it just sounds better coming from the mouth of a two year old.

A few of my favorites….and not so favorites (continue reading here)…

This week, I dedicate myself to partaking in activities I cannot readily do when Jake and (especially) June are around.

Friday night, I had a small gathering of girlfriends at my place where we drank Sangria and talked about hair, unicorns and 867-5309 references. Yesterday, I took Solha for an hour long hike in the woods listening to my beloved talk radio podcasts (the height of luxury, friends!) and my friends Antonio and Mary and I went to see The Great Gatsby. Tonight, we go to a Flamenco performance. I am a bon vivant this week.

I also treated myself to a late night viewing of this wonderful documentary First Position about young kids who excel at ballet (I think Jake would rather build ten thousand bird houses than suffer through an hour and a half of ballet). Have you heard of it? It’s soooo good. I love watching dance. One of the children featured is this 11-year old Israeli girl Gaya Bommer who moves her body like nobody I have ever seen. She is extraordinary. And her mom is her choreographer. How cool is that? Watch a performance here.

I listened to an NPR interview with David Sedaris over the weekend and it made me fall in love with the man all over again. Setting aside for a moment his wonderfully warped sense of humor, he has such an interesting way of looking at the world.  He said that when he’s not writing books, he collects trash along the back roads near his country home in England. And despite selling millions and millions of books, he comes across as utterly free of ego and said he fully expects all of his books to end up at Goodwill sooner or later. How can you not love a person like that?

Which is why he tries to never write anything cheesy or insipid like “Keep laughing!” when inscribing books, but something crazy and outrageous enough to make the casual Goodwill browser go, “What the–? Who is this nut?” The title of his current book Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls was born from one such inane inscription.

I loved hearing this. In my somewhat limited experience inscribing books, I never know what to write. I’ll even ask the person, “So…what do you want me to write?” To which they invariably respond, “I don’t know. You’re the writer. Something witty and clever.” Naturally, this coincides with the precise moment my brain goes into sleep mode and I write something like, “Here’s to being Rurally Screwed! Keep smiling!” followed by a stream of exclamation points and smiley faces so they grasp how truly giddy I am. Then they wander off looking at the inscription with a deflated expression and I suddenly wish I was home.

I think from now on I’ll take the David Sedaris approach: Write from the perspective of a drunk person if only to give that future Goodwill shopper down the road a moment of pause.

I received my first official Mother’s Day gift from June — a decoupage jelly jar candle wrapped in a pretty ribbon — which I will treasure always (I’m pretty sure her Montessori teachers helped out a lot with this creation!) BUT June is not here to celebrate the day with me.

At the list minute, I was unable to go to the beach with Jake and June so I’m spending Mother’s Day all by lonesome. They’ve only been gone a day and already I’m wondering how I’m going to survive the week without them. It’s times like these when I doubly appreciate and love my family….when they’re not around for me to tell them what to do.

But I will sleep easier knowing June is having a blast at the beach.

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!

Wait, is it already canning season?

Time to break out my favorite preserving cookbooks and recipes. (See my Books page if you want info on where to buy Tart & Sweet.)  Personally, I feel like I don’t have time anymore for preserving my brains out so I only make what I know I will eat throughout the year.

My larder essentials:

Strawberry Rhubarb Jam and Strawberry Orange Compote, both from Tart & Sweet. These recipes are to die for.

Dilly Beans from the Ball Blue Book. My friend Susan, a farmer, makes the best Dilly Beans evah using this recipe, only she substitutes the called for chile pepper for a more exotic version she grows herself.  Makes all the difference.

And of course, I have to can as much as possible using fresh, home grown tomatoes: salsa, tomato sauce, pizza sauce, canned tomato chunks…

With any leftovers, I like to make a killer boozy Bloody Mary spiked with Sriracha and Susan’s Dilly Beans (recipe adapted from Tart & Sweet).

Banana Vanilla Rum Butter, also from Tart & Sweet. Geez, don’t I look domestic? I even made the apron.

The Rum Butter can be incorporated into all kinds of decadent baked goods, like this low-fat, calorie free, totally healthy for you banana tart. It actually makes you lose weight eating it.

And this year I’m making preserved lemons. We raise such incredible poultry and preserved lemons are a great accompaniment. (This recipe for chicken with preserved lemons and green olives has me salivating.)

(Lemon image from The Year in Food) 

Last night, a friend of ours dropped off a bag of wild asparagus freshly plucked from a field. If you’ve never experienced wild asparagus, I highly recommend you make friends with a forager. Stalks are as crisp and juicy as a piece of celery, requiring no blanching.

She then gave me a bag of old, brown bananas secured in red tape that said “Value Priced.” Yeah, I’d say that’s about right. As I peered into the bag, I found myself looking for other signs of my friend’s generosity, like maybe a half eaten ham sandwich or an almost empty can of warm Mountain Dew.

This morning while making breakfast, June looked at the pile of blackened bananas on the counter and said, “I don’t want a dirty banana, mommy.”

Neither do I, but they say you should never look a gift horse in the mouth. Which is why I guess I’ll be making banana bread. Oh joy. My favorite.