though we do not travel as much as we'd like, as a family mine likes to go places. We're not big on Disney World {went once, when I was 4. will not be taking my future, hypothetical children}, we don't like to do the "touristy" thing. While a cruise might be tremendous fun for many, for us it usually feels like we would simply be trapped on a boat with thousands of people. This preference for places where, despite thousands, we can simply escape into life as locals might just come from our own dealings with thousands of tourists a year.
I love my customers, their screaming children, and their vacation plans. Really, I do. They provide my living and I can help them make their vacations just a little bit better. It's a lovely relationship that allows for my self-satisfaction and hopefully theirs as well. However, when I do go on vacation, I already live in a tourist destination. I prefer to find the little whole-in-the-wall restaurant, the bar where off-duty waitstaff congregate, the tiny park only known to people who live in the surrounding four blocks. That translates into what I bring home with me, as well. I usually go shopping at some point over a vacation, oohing and aahing over housewares or wine selection {you live in a state where you can only by wine or liquor at state-owned, state-priced stores}, bringing home food or wine or breakables if I'm driving. When flying, though, my choice is most often a scarf.
It folds, it packs, it gets worn home, it won't break, it needn't be checked...and I'll use it all the time, anyway. So, when my parents go somewhere without me {such as, say, New Orleans, or San Fransisco}, they bring home pictures of the food they ate to taunt me with and a scarf to soften the blow. Once, they managed to bring satsumas from New Orleans. They were almost better than the scarf, but since I had to share them, not quite.
Though I've never been, New Orleans is a city of contrasts, especially in a post-Katrina world. There is crushing poverty and violence, houses wiped from the face of the Mississippi Delta, windows still blown out years later in downtown highrises. However, there are also three beignets for less than two dollars at Cafe Du Monde and some of the best oysters in the country. Food melts in your mouth, so they say, and every day is a party. It is only fitting that my New Orleans gift scarf be a riot of color and shine, with peacocks preening for attention.
I don't wear its cashmere and silk goodness often enough, tending to set it to the side in favor of outfits full of color. Still, some days beg for a cozy warmth, and skinny little black pants go with everything. It is a scarf that feels like taking on the world, or even just some fussy homemade candy.
Long before he and my mother went to New Orleans, my father perfected pecan pralines. We're the kind of family, as slightly discussed yesterday, who has no compunction about not attempting something in the kitchen. If there is a recipe, it can be made...and we will make it. That held completely firm with Dad and the pralines. They might be a bit tricky, but they taste delicious even if they don't quite turn out. Lovely stuff even in the deep summer, they make an excellent holiday hostess gift, party favor, or late-night snack.
Pecan Pralines (no idea where Dad found the recipe, though I know it was tweaked excessively)
1 and 1/2 cup sugar
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup whole milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3/4 stick (6 tablespoons) butter
1 and 1/2 cups pecans
You will need a candy thermometer for this operation, but don't let that intimidate you. Combine all ingredients in a large saucepan, and bring to soft ball stage (238 to 240 degrees). Remove from heat, then stir until the mixture thickens. It will become cloudy and creamy and the pecans will stay suspended in the sugar mixture. Quickly spoon (in about 1 tablespoon portions) onto a greased cookie sheet. Allow to cool, then eat.
As a word to the wise, once you have spooned the pralines onto the cookie sheet, make sure to immediately fill the saucepan with water or wash out. The sugar will otherwise be a horrific b*tch to clean.
"Be well. Do good work. Keep in touch." Garrison Keillor
I love my customers, their screaming children, and their vacation plans. Really, I do. They provide my living and I can help them make their vacations just a little bit better. It's a lovely relationship that allows for my self-satisfaction and hopefully theirs as well. However, when I do go on vacation, I already live in a tourist destination. I prefer to find the little whole-in-the-wall restaurant, the bar where off-duty waitstaff congregate, the tiny park only known to people who live in the surrounding four blocks. That translates into what I bring home with me, as well. I usually go shopping at some point over a vacation, oohing and aahing over housewares or wine selection {you live in a state where you can only by wine or liquor at state-owned, state-priced stores}, bringing home food or wine or breakables if I'm driving. When flying, though, my choice is most often a scarf.
Though I've never been, New Orleans is a city of contrasts, especially in a post-Katrina world. There is crushing poverty and violence, houses wiped from the face of the Mississippi Delta, windows still blown out years later in downtown highrises. However, there are also three beignets for less than two dollars at Cafe Du Monde and some of the best oysters in the country. Food melts in your mouth, so they say, and every day is a party. It is only fitting that my New Orleans gift scarf be a riot of color and shine, with peacocks preening for attention.
I don't wear its cashmere and silk goodness often enough, tending to set it to the side in favor of outfits full of color. Still, some days beg for a cozy warmth, and skinny little black pants go with everything. It is a scarf that feels like taking on the world, or even just some fussy homemade candy.
Long before he and my mother went to New Orleans, my father perfected pecan pralines. We're the kind of family, as slightly discussed yesterday, who has no compunction about not attempting something in the kitchen. If there is a recipe, it can be made...and we will make it. That held completely firm with Dad and the pralines. They might be a bit tricky, but they taste delicious even if they don't quite turn out. Lovely stuff even in the deep summer, they make an excellent holiday hostess gift, party favor, or late-night snack.
1 and 1/2 cup sugar
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup whole milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3/4 stick (6 tablespoons) butter
1 and 1/2 cups pecans
You will need a candy thermometer for this operation, but don't let that intimidate you. Combine all ingredients in a large saucepan, and bring to soft ball stage (238 to 240 degrees). Remove from heat, then stir until the mixture thickens. It will become cloudy and creamy and the pecans will stay suspended in the sugar mixture. Quickly spoon (in about 1 tablespoon portions) onto a greased cookie sheet. Allow to cool, then eat.
As a word to the wise, once you have spooned the pralines onto the cookie sheet, make sure to immediately fill the saucepan with water or wash out. The sugar will otherwise be a horrific b*tch to clean.
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