Rodin's garden

Friends- tomorrow, let's escape for the day to Rodin's garden in Paris.

Then, we can stroll over to the Rue Cler neighborhood, sit at an outdoor cafe, and eat the best piece of veggie quiche you ever had in your whole life.

Finally, we can walk a few blocks more to say hello to this: 

Yes, I think that is what we should do tomorrow. Who's in? 

Notre Dame Cathedral

What happens when a heart breaks? To match the rush of emotion or flood of numbness is there crushing of capillaries or pulse of contractions in the walled chambers of a physical heart- the one beating here right in my chest?

I am thinking about heartbreak this morning and all the heartbreak in the world. I spent a lot of time in churches in Paris. When we travel internationally, my husband and I love to attend a service at one of the large cathedrals. Our faith is not Catholic or Orthodox, but to me, it connects me to the thousands and thousands of people who have sought solace and communion with God in that building. Experiencing a worship service in a cathedral is much different than visiting it as a tourist.

So it was that on our first day in Paris we attended an early evening service at Notre Dame. We sat on small wooden chairs surrounded by people from all over the world and were provided (very thoughtfully) a program of the service that was also translated into many languages.

As we waited for the service to start we craned our necks at the vaulted ceiling and sighed over each new detail as it unfolded itself before us. I kept thinking over and over, "Thousands of people have sat where I am sitting, looked up as I am, and longed for God."

I do not fully understand everything that went on during the service but it was quite exciting when a procession of bread bakers came marching down the aisle, dressed smartly in their kitchen whites, hauling enormous baskets of rolls and others with arms wrapped around stacks of baguette. With hundreds of people in attendance, I was hoping for a "loaves and fishes" moment. Alas, it turned out to be some kind of blessing event and the rolls and baguettes were part of the processional as well.

The music was beautiful and spare. I love when there is an acknowledgement that the place where we are is so grand and there is no need for further embellishment or elaboration. The pure simplicity and pitch perfect voice of the song leader (I am sure there is a wonderful title for such a person, but I do not know it) piercing through the vastness of the space while the incense rolled upwards, sometimes in shadow, sometimes haloed by late afternoon light, pooling in through a stained glass window. And all the time I was thinking, "Thousands of people have sat where I am sitting, looked up as I am, and longed for God."

After the service, we did take a few minutes to wander about the Cathedral. I was glad that my first moments in that place had been through the lens of a church service because it is so easy to flip back into tourist mode, to separate myself from a space as an observer.

It is a marvelous Cathedral, stunning in it's size and grand gestures. We were walking up the side of the interior, where there are a series of altars and stands of candles. The effect of the candles on the din of the space was quite beautiful and there were several people around (including us) taking pictures. There were just enough people around that it was not until we were standing right next to him that we noticed this gentleman:

His vulnerability took my breath away. I perceived such a depth of loss and sorrow in his expression. It was then that I realized, thousands of people sit, look up, and long for God. The space went from past tense to present tense. In the midst of a sea of tourists, happily snapping pictures and going about their holiday, this man had heartbreak and understood the true nature of where he was.

I am still processing through what all this means.
One thing I am thinking about, is that we never know what point of heartbreak a person is in. We each carry within us the heartbreak of our lives, tote it around in these physical shapes. Large losses, small losses - it all adds up.

And maybe that is a portion of why grace is so important. We must be gracious with one another, to those we love and to strangers. We must be gracious enough to allow each of us our moments, be they in a holy Cathedral, or wherever they occur.

I pray that today, whatever stage of heartbreak you may be in, you will find enough grace not only yourself, but for others as well.

(Many thanks to my husband for capturing the beauty Notre Dame Cathedral in the pictures above.)

Breakfast in Paris

We recently returned from a big vacation: 8 days in Paris, 2 days in Amsterdam. In one word: lovely. My husband and I are great travel partners because for both of us, it is all about the food. Hands down my favorite part of the trip was just soaking up the Parisian cafe culture: long lingering meals in sidewalk cafes, taking in the surroundings and people watching.

About breakfast: It is all about the croissants and the bread and the butter. Oh, and the fresh squeezed orange juice too. Some mornings we had a "walking breakfast": croissants or baguette picked up at a boulangerie while marching around the city. Time change had us waking up pretty early (3am- hello!) and we liked the early morning walks before the crowds hit the streets.

One morning, as we marched to the Musee de l'Orangerie, I had this lovely little rhubarb tart for breakfast.

Towards the end of our week we settled into a routine of taking breakfast at a nearby cafe. We had cafe noisette (shot of a espresso with a tiny pitcher of milk on the side), fresh squeezed orange juice, a basket with croissants and very good toast, butter and jam, and a soft boiled egg perched on an egg cup with toast soldiers. The perfection of the simplicity of the meal highlighted what I think is so great about French food: the bread and dairy (butter, cream, cheese) are out of this world. While we breakfasted we would look over the guidebook and maps and plan the days outings.

From our cafe perch, I also loved to watch the morning routine play out in Paris as it does in cities all over the world- families rushing in the morning to get the kids to school and themselves to work! (Can you see the kiddo being led somewhat reluctantly in the picture below?)

Paris

Just returned from 8 days in Paris and am all topsy turvy with jet lag. I look forward to sharing more pictures and stories, but for now, I just wanted to put this out there.

Ah, Paris- you are more beautiful than I ever thought you could be.

spring picnic days

We had a spate of gorgeously sunny weather this past weekend. Even I, a devout rainy gray day lover, was lulled into happiness by the streaming sunshine. Yes, even living in Southern California the first warm spring days are cherished- leaving a certain giddy optimism in the air. On a Saturday morning walk with Harriet we stopped and sniffed roses and sweet peas; wished good morning to our neighbors and said hello to lots of other dogs (turns out, Harriet is a very social dog. She insists on it.)

In the afternoon, I baked a ham. The spur of the moment, post-Easter purchase fed us for a couple of days. Saturday evening, a large wedge accompanied us to dinner at a friends house. It was a casual, laid back supper of darn near perfection- our friends brought out a large cutting board on which we artfully arranged wedges of beautiful cheese, prosciutto, salami, small dishes of mustard, and different crackers. On the side, an arugula salad, a cold lemon basil pea salad and slices of the ham. It was such a happy little feast with friends and made me resolve to eat similarly more often.

The next day, I assembled the little plate above for my lunch: ham, smear of mustard, cornichons, Aknak crackers, narrow wedges of cheese, and a cabbage slaw. I enjoyed it in between loads of laundry and a run to Target. Not a glamorous day, but it was momentarily elevated by a thoughtful meal.

The cabbage slaw was quickly assembled in between errands. We recently began getting a weekly box of organic veggies. This weeks box included lovely little crowns of red cabbage and of green cabbage and a very young red onion (okay, so I do not know all the farming words, but the onion looked fresh and young, not old and worn out.)

The slaw recipe is from Alice Waters cookbook, "The Art of Simple Food." Our weekly veggie box has pushed me to a new understanding of eating seasonally and I confess that I now regularly consult Ms. Water's book for direction on fruits and vegetables new to me. Her writing is very approachable and conversational (see below.) Under her tutelage, I am learning about the importance of a good vinaigrette.

Coleslaw

Tear off and discard the tough outer leaves of:
1 small cabbage
Cut into quarters and remove the core. Turn cut side down and slice crosswise into thin shreds.

Mix together in a large bowl with:
1/2 sliced red onion, sliced as thin as possible
salt

Prepare a vinaigrette by mixing together:
1 tablespoon cider or wine vinegar
salt
fresh-ground black pepper

Stir to dissolve the salt and then whisk in:
4 tablespoons olive oil

Taste for acid and salt and adjust as desired. Pour the dressing over the cabbage and onions and mix well. Taste again for salt and acid. Eat right away or let sit for awhile to let the flavors permeate and the cabbage soften.

daffodils in Spring

For the past few years, I have taken a spring trip to visit my older sister in Seattle. It is one of my favorite weekends of the year. We have the best time just being together and adventuring around. She is a phenomenally creative and amazing person. I return home charged up and full of love. Sadly, this spring the trip did not work out.

As the weeks go on, I find myself missing our time together more and more.
Which is why this morning I dug up pictures of our visit to the daffodil fields in Skagit Valley- a seemingly endless sea of golden yellow.

 

I also met this lovely cow (bull?) I think it must be a pretty nice life to live next to daffodil fields.

 Look at the eyelashes! (Yes, I got a little closer to the cow/bull than my sister would've liked.)

roasted grape tomatoes

There is no shortage of ways to enjoy these tomatoes. Friends of ours serve home grown grape tomatoes straight from the skillet as a side dish on summer nights. Ina Garten roasts them in the oven to accompany steak. In our house we love to serve them as part of a British breakfast: roasted tomatoes, sautéed mushrooms, hash brown cakes, scrambled eggs, toast, and plenty of hot hot coffee.

I also love them as pictured here- piled on toasted bread with cream cheese. The sweet jammy-ness of the tomatoes is a wonderful contrast to the cream cheese and toasted bread. We are still a long ways off from tomato season but I find roasting kicks up the flavor of the tomatoes we do have available now.

I hope you try them yourself and find new ways to enjoy (tossed with pasta, tucked into grilled cheese sandwiches...)

roasted grape tomatoes

1 pint grape tomatoes
1 tablespoon olive oil
kosher salt
fresh cracked pepper
dried thyme


1) Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

2) In a cast iron skillet, toss whole tomatoes with olive oil, salt, pepper and a pinch of dried thyme.

3) Roast in the oven for 30-35 minutes, until skins burst and just begin to char at the edges. While in the oven, give the pan a shake every once in a while to keep the tomatoes from sticking.