I  love that the beach is endlessly entertaining for boys.

About three and a half years ago, we got a letter from Starwood.  In it was an offer for five days on Kauai at a ridiculously low price.  It was an offer we could not refuse.  Randy and I had never been to Hawaii together and we had yet to travel with Spencer.  It was time and Kauai in February seemed like a great idea.

(Yes, we rented a convertible.  We thought the boys would totally dig it.  They were a little perplexed by the whole thing.  I loved it and so did Randy.)

We knew we would get some kind of pitch to buy something while there, but it seemed worth it to us.  Five nights of cheap accommodations for a sales pitch seemed like a small price to pay.  Randy went instead of me and came back with the news that he thought we should go for it.  I was shocked.  Randy is the more fiscally conservative half of our marriage and I would never have thought a time share would appeal to him.  I resisted initially.  To me, time share meant mediocre accommodations, being forced to travel only certain weeks, getting penalized if you didn’t use your time, etc.  Life is complicated enough without stress about a vacation.

But, as it turns out, this time share is very flexible.  There are lots of different ways we can use it and so far, we have had only positive experiences with it.  Being able to travel with two young boys and stay in a place that has a kitchen, separate bedroom for them, and a washing machine takes a lot of the stress out of the picture.  It also ends up being cheaper because we are able to eat in more than out.  (Although the groceries in Princeville are no bargain.  I went for a basic shop – breakfast stuff, snacks for the boys, wine, enough food for a couple of simple dinners, and spent $400.)

Anyway, this is the reason that we went  back.  And will go back again.  After our last trip, I swore we would never go back to Kauai.  Six hours of sun in seven days was not a vacation.  In fact, when we walked in to the living area of our condo this year, it seemed so much bigger – I think because it seemed very small after being cooped up there for an entire week with a then four and two year old.  We had some rain this time but we also had sun and Kauai is impossibly beautiful in the sunshine.

Our boys ask me everyday when we can go back.  Our place has a kids pool that is only 1½ feet deep with a water slide and turtle fountains.  They played there for hours everyday.  The beach paled in comparison for them.

We fell into a nice routine.  Wake up, eat breakfast, be mellow for a bit, hit the pool.  Maybe a lunch outing, maybe not.  After hours of playing in the sun and the water, the boys would take a three hour nap – heaven!  By the time they woke up, it was time for happy hour.

(Trust me, we are not drinking the same thing.)

Randy and I had two dinners out, one with a couple who are friends of ours and happened to be there at the same time, but mostly we just stayed local and mellow.  This is something I like about Kauai.  The pace is slow and relaxed, the people are nice, the beauty is overwhelming.  We heard stories about how you have to get your towel in place on your beach chair by 9am in Maui, otherwise you were chairless (the horror!).  We never felt anything like that on our trip.  Just cruising the roads, soaking up the sunshine, drinking fruity rum drinks, and eating lots of pineapple.  I’m ready to go back.

I’m home.  It was hot.  I got a pot.  The end.

Just joking.  You’ve never known me to be particularly pithy, have you?

My trip to Europe was wonderful as you can imagine.  I had worried a bit about it being too short and that I was trying to cram too much in that short time.  But I didn’t feel that way at all.  By a good stroke of luck, I was able to get right on Cannes time without the three days of jet lag that I used to feel whenever I would fly East.  I think that helped.  And of course I would have liked more time in each of the three cities I visited but I never felt like I was running from one to the next.  The fact that I didn’t have two very sweet but very-noisy-demanding-of-my-time-and-attention boys following my every step made the whole trip feel luxurious.

This also helped contribute to the feeling of luxury.  That would be the view from our hotel room.

You know how every family has stories that get told over and over again?  Every time we all start to talk about American ideas of what European hotels should be, my mom brings out the one about me biting into a bar of soap in Cannes.

In 1971, Europe was impossibly cheap for Americans and because my parents were young and insane, they decided to take me on a whirlwind trip to five different countries.  I was just under a year old.  In Cannes, we stayed at a very posh looking hotel called the Carlton.  The rooms all had toilets but no baths or showers and if you wanted to bathe, you had to call for a maid who would unlock the room with the bath located on each floor.  After a day of playing in the sand, I was filthy and my mom decided she would just get in the bath with me to wash off.  For one second she turned her back and in that time, I managed to get a hold of a bright white bar of soap and take a big bite – a foodie even then.  As soon as I actually tasted what I had bitten into, I started to scream.  And because that little bite of soap got stuck behind my brand new front teeth, I continued to scream.  My mom, horrified, tried to hook her finger behind my teeth to get the soap out and I bit her.  Imagine my poor mother, 25 years old, naked with a screaming baby and a bleeding finger in a hotel where she barely spoke the language, just waiting for some gendarme to come and bust down the door to save the screaming baby.  One of those funny now, so not-funny then stories.

Anyway, the irony is the Carlton is where Randy and I stayed.  I assure you, we had a bathroom with a tub.  And we had that view.  I don’t remember one second of that 1971 trip, so I will tell you that this was really my first trip to the Côte d’Azur – the beautiful Riviera.  I am always amazed by the diversity of landscape in that incredible country roughly the size of Texas.  This view has nothing in common with the rolling hills of Normandy or the Kansas flat of the region right around Paris.  It is a beach very different from the wind-swept wild sands of Brittany and the food, accent, and look of the people is completely different too.  Cannes would probably not have been on my life’s itinerary if not for a conference which brought Randy there.  And we certainly would not have had the room with its king size bed, soaring ceilings, and incredible view, so I am grateful to have experienced it.

But on to Paris and the list of kitchen shops I had crunched in my fist.  We walked into the first gleaming gorgeous shop and I got that huge flutter of excitement in my gut.  Like the proverbial kid in a candy shop – where do I start first??  I want one of everything!  (Incidentally, I later found myself in an actual candy shop on the Île St. Louis and I got precisely the same feeling.  I walked through the shop, running my hands over the gorgeous sweets on offer, and was too overwhelmed to actually buy anything.)  As my eyes flicked around the shop and as I wound my way up three floors of beautiful things for the kitchen, I started to realize something a bit disturbing.  I have most of this stuff.

There are those people who say that all you really need in the kitchen is a few good pots, a frying pan, a trio of sharp knives (chef, paring, bread), and a cutting board.  While I appreciate the simplicity of that claim and can certainly tell you that those are the only things I use without fail every single day, I am the person who will also tell you that having a citrus juicer and an egg slicer, several bench scrapers and pastry cutters, 9, 10, 11, and 12-inch fluted tart pans, all manner of palette knives and offset spatulas, countless wooden spoons, and an egg poacher – not to mention drawers and cabinets full of other things – is a joy impossible to describe.  Until you find yourself on a trip six years in the making and realize that all those things you thought you might purchase?  Well, you already have purchased them.

Not everything of course.  I bought some tiny tartlet pans and a loaf pan in a size you never see in the States.  I got a couple of serving forks and a spatula with a wooden handle, and a bread knife from Poilâne.  I bought a copper ladle that I will probably never use because it’s too pretty.  I also got this guy.

On my search for a brand of copper pot well-known in France but impossible to get in the States, what I found is that everyone sells Mauviel.  The type you can get in any Williams Sonoma store.  The exact brand of the gorgeous risotto pot that my parents bought me for Hanumass last year to start me on my collection – the pot that I returned because I was going to find my boutique brand of pot in Paris, and I wanted them all to match.  No need to kick me, I am doing it to myself as I type.

Anyway, the prices were better in Paris than in the States and I couldn’t come home pot-less so I decided on this beauty.  As someone who bakes, I actually have use for a double boiler.  Yes, putting a bowl over a pot of simmering water works just as well – but isn’t this pretty?  My dad, ever the scientist, asked me about the chemistry of this decision.  Why do you need copper if you are trying to tame the temperature?  Don’t you buy copper for the heat conductivity?  Silly dad.  No,  you buy copper because it is gorgeous.

Speaking of gorgeous.  Look at my mom.  I have that to look forward to.

Anyway.  I got all kinds of food treats and ate some yummy things.  All to come in the next post.

Six years ago, right around this time of year, Randy and I were living in London.  One day I sat in a wonderful cooking class at Leith’s – a day-long class on vegetarian food.  The teacher was swift and engaging and while I didn’t learn much in particular, it was a joy to watch such a professional work.  My eyes kept drifting up to the stacks upon stacks of copper pots on the shelves behind her.  She mentioned that the school had bought the pots and pans back in the 1950′s and they were the ones still used in the kitchens.  Dreamily I thought, “I want copper pots from Paris”.  Practically I thought, “I just got brand new stainless steel All Clad pots – there is no way I could justify buying copper”.  Dreamily I thought, “For my 40th birthday, I want to go to Paris and buy copper pots”.  The class wrapped up, I went home and told Randy about my 40th birthday plan – six years in the future – to which he said, “Got it”.

“Got it” in Randy language means many things.  Sometimes it means “please stop talking, I understand you” and other times it means “I am taking your criticism and I am moving on”.  In this instance it meant “you are making a special request of me and regardless of how frivolous it may sound, I will see that I fulfill it”.  If you know my husband, he is a get-shit-done kind of guy.  He is a tremendous problem solver, an incredibly hard worker, and he really likes to plan.  What you may not know is that he is a pretty romantic guy and he really likes to make me happy.

So, my 40th birthday is this summer (July 26th to be exact) and on Tuesday, I am flying to France.  Randy has business in Cannes so I will meet up with him there, then fly to Paris for a few days, then take the Eurostar to London for one day, and then back home.  It will be whirlwind.  I feel very lucky.  My in-laws are flying in from Atlanta to stay with my kids and I will get my husband all to myself for a whole week.  A week in Europe where I have not been in six years.

Will I buy pots?  I don’t know.  It is highly impractical.  I can’t carry them on the plane and to ship them would be ridiculously expensive.  I hope to maybe find a brand that does business online and buy them that way.  I have a list of shops to visit but our time is limited, especially since one of our two full days in Paris will be a Sunday.  Maybe I will just buy a symbolic pot (like a ½ quart butter-melter) and spend the rest of my money on chocolate.  I know that it doesn’t matter.  I will lay on the beach in Cannes.  I will have an early birthday dinner with Randy and my parents (who are joining us) in Paris.  I will get to have lunch with Ele and Hilary in London.  I get to fly on an airplane armed with stacks of books and magazines and not one single Sesame Street DVD, garbage truck, or Leap Frog game.  Parents of small children, you know what I am talking about.

Whenever I feel extra spoiled, I feel like I want to give back.  Here is where the chocolate cookies come in.  I got the recipe for these treats from David Lebovitz’s new book Ready for Dessert.  David Lebovitz, if you don’t know, is an American pastry chef and ice cream guru living in Paris.  He has written a number of cookbooks (including the only ice cream book you will ever need – The Perfect Scoop) and also a memoir about living in the city of lights called The Sweet Life in Paris.  Wouldn’t it be nice to have a contest, pick a winner, and send that person to Paris?  Unfortunately, that is not going to happen.  So, I’m going to have a contest, pick a winner, and send that person a copy of The Sweet Life in Paris and winner’s choice of one his other books.  Just tell me what your favorite spot is in Paris and if you haven’t been, tell me what would be your first stop in that beautiful city.

I will pick a winner when I return from my journey.  I will have a few posts go up while I am gone.  Until then, à bientôt!

One Year Ago: Strawberry and Sour Cream Ice Cream (from The Perfect Scoop!)
Two Years Ago: Spicy Lime and Herbed Tofu in Lettuce Cups (pardon the photo)

Flo’s Chocolate Snaps
Adapted from Ready for Dessert
Makes about 50 cookies

I took the liberty of adding ½ a cup of mini chocolate chips to my batter which you could, of course, leave out.  I cut my cookies a bit thicker than he recommends and next time I will just listen to him so they are thinner and snappier.

3 cups flour
¾ unsweetened Dutch-process cocoa powder
2½ tsp. baking powder
¼ tsp. salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1¼ cups sugar, plus more for sprinkling
½ tsp. vanilla extract
1 large egg, at room temperature
1 large egg yolk, at room temperature
½ cup mini chocolate chips (optional)

Into a small bowl, sift together the flour, cocoa, baking powder, and salt.

In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat together the butter and the sugar on medium speed just until smooth.  Add the vanilla, then beat in the egg and egg yolk.

Gradually add the cocoa mixture to the butter mixture, mixing until completely incorporated and no streaks of butter remain.  If using, mix the chocolate chips in by hand using a spatula.

On a lightly floured surface, divide the dough into quarters, and shape each quarter into a log about 7 inches long and 1½ inches in diameter.  Wrap the logs in plastic wrap and refrigerate until they’re firm enough to slice, about 1 hour.

Position racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven; preheat the oven to 350ºF.  Line two baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone baking mats.  (DT: I skipped this step and had no trouble with the cookies sticking.)

Slice the logs into disks ½-inch thick and place the disks on the prepared baking sheets, spaced about ½-inch apart.  Bake, rotating the baking sheets midway through baking, until the cookies are puffed and slightly firm, 10 to 12 minutes.  Remove from the oven and immediately sprinkle with a bit of sugar.

Let the cookies cool on the baking sheets until firm enough to handle, then use a spatula to transfer them to a wire rack.  They will continue to firm up and get “snappy” as they cool.

(The dough can be refrigerated for up to 5 days or frozen for up to 1 month.  The baked cookies can be kept in an airtight container for 2 days.)

Signs near the farmers’ market in Bayview.

The birthday girl, setting the table for lunch.

The outermost point on the property.  If I had a better lens, you would see a full mountain range in the background.

So many lovely places to sit and enjoy the beauty.

One of the friends brought beads for each of us to make bracelets.  The charm says “Jen Zen”.

4pm yoga was optional.  It was amazing to practice outside.  That is me in the purple shirt off to the right attempting a handstand without help.  (Didn’t happen.)

The grass was perfect for a headstand though.

Jen requested cowgirl attire for dinner.

She was one of the most well-behaved (and beautiful) cowgirls at the party.

(This photo is actually from last week’s yoga retreat.)

And dip!  I made this dip twice in a week and both times it got devoured.    People dig in expecting something mildly sour, as so many dips are, and are surprised by the lusciousness of it.  This dip gets its rich texture from avocado, silken tofu, and yogurt.  The interesting flavor comes from curry powder and mint.  The mix sounds unpromising, but the empty bowls speak otherwise.   Jen’s sister, after learning about the healthy mix of ingredients, told me, “I’ve been dipping delicately since I assumed it was really fattening.  Now I’m going to dig right in!”.

Curried Tofu-and-Avocado Dip
Adapted from Food and Wine
Makes about 2 cups

1 12-ounce box silken tofu
1 large or 2 small Hass avocados, peeled, pitted, and coarsely chopped
1/3 cup low-fat sour cream
1/3 cup low-fat plain yogurt
Zest and juice of 1 lime
1 garlic clove
2 tsp. honey
1½ tsp. curry powder
3 tbsp. chopped mint
Salt and freshly ground pepper.

In a food processor, combine everything except the salt and pepper.  Process until completely smooth, then season the dip to taste.  Chill until cold.  This dip will keep for two days in the refrigerator, but the top layer will turn brown-ish because of the avocado.  I suggest storing it in a cylinder-shaped container (such as a large yogurt container) which has a smaller top surface area.

The Sunday before New Year’s, Jen’s husband Tom called to ask if we wanted to join them for a couple of nights at her parents’ island paradise.  We had plans already and I had a lot of cooking to do for our supper club, but it took us about 1.5 seconds to say yes.  We had been there twice before and words cannot begin to describe the beauty and special energy this place possess.  Each small building is warm, welcoming, and not at all grand, just perfectly homey.  Each of her parents have an art studio (her dad is a painter and her mom is a weaver) and there are lots of bunk beds for all of the grandchildren.  Their table seats 12 or so, even though most of the time it is just the two of them.  They are always ready for a few guests.

If, perhaps, it is a beautiful warm night with a full moon, you may decide to sleep here.  In the summer months, a mattress is laid on this bed along with pillows and all kinds of warm blankets.  Tom is a big fan of this bed and I’m sure, as the kids get older, there are going to be fights about who gets it.

This photo was taken on rainy windy New Year’s Day – not usually a banner weather day in our part of the country.  And still, I hope you can see how powerful and riveting the beauty is.  Imagine this exact same spot on a sunny summer evening with cocktail in hand and children running about.  Imagine it again in the darkness and with roasted marshmallows and a guitar.  Imagine on your way back to your bed you stop by the hot tub to warm up.  Yes, hot tub.

Years ago, our famous Pike Place Market had artists all over the city design a pig.  They were then auctioned off in a benefit for the Market and its’ medical clinic.  I (somewhat) jokingly told Randy I wanted one of the pigs.  I should not have been surprised to find one on her parents property – and one of the coolest pigs at that.

In fact, the art may be what I love most up there.  Each sculpture is so lovingly chosen and placed.  There is so much whimsy and celebration of what makes art special.  Nothing stuffy about it.

Three years ago, we had an epic wind storm in our area.  We only lost power for about 18 hours at our house, but some people were without it for up to two weeks.  Just as the storm was brewing, Jen went in to labor.  She was able to make it across the Sound to the hospital with husband and other three children in tow.  After she had the baby, they stayed downtown in a hotel while waiting for their power to come back on.  Imagine.  Newborn baby, recovering from childbirth, three other young children, and not in your own home.  At some point, her mom, who had power thanks to a generator, had her come to Whidbey where she gave up her bed to Jen and her new baby.  Jen says that visit healed her in more ways than one.  Take a look.  Couldn’t we all heal here?

I can’t mention Whidbey Island without telling another very special thing about it.  If it weren’t for this very long island (2nd longest in the country after Long Island), I would never have met this guy.

Many years before I knew him, Randy was a Naval Aviator.  He graduated from the Naval Academy in Annapolis and went to flight school in Pensacola.  He was assigned to fly the A-6 Intruder which gave him two choices of bases.  One was Virginia Beach and one was Whidbey Island.  Being an East Coaster his whole life, he just assumed he would go to Virginia.  Some friend who had been to Whidbey took him out for a beer one night and told him about the beauty of Puget Sound.  The close access to Seattle and the proximity to skiing, boating, hiking, mountain biking, and just the general outdoors.  Because Randy will always choose adventure over complacency, he decided to listen to his friend (bless him) and take a chance on Whidbey.

Once he oriented to West being the ocean and East being land (important if you are flying a fighter jet), he fell in love with our area.  He took advantage of all it had to offer and then some.  After a few years, his life became a little more complicated and he opted to move back East to teach at the Naval Academy, to get more schooling and to appease a difficult first wife.

In 2000, as he was finishing business school in Boston, a friend from the Navy came for a visit and to try and recruit him to join a company that he had founded in Seattle.   Randy had already accepted a very good job with an international consulting company and had planned to set down roots in Boston.  For many different reasons, the friend’s job offer was enticing.  Perhaps the main reason was that, having spent time on Whidbey, he missed the Northwest.  And so, he did something very un-Randy like which is to re-neg on an accepted job and take a different job for half the pay.  In June of that year, he landed back in Seattle.

His then wife was supposed to close up house in Boston and then take her time driving across the country.  At Wyoming she decided to go back to Boston and end the marriage.  Two months after that, Randy and I met.  Almost two years after that, we got married.

So, even though I have only been there about a dozen times, I have a deep appreciation for Whidbey.  If it weren’t for that island, my life would be very different.  It is hard to imagine life without Randy.  And very hard to imagine life without these two.

First of all, this is my 250th post!  As with every other blog milestone that I have surpassed, I’m not sure how I got here or how it happened so quickly.  I’m just grateful that you are all here along for the ride.  It was so wonderful to hear from so many readers who don’t usually comment.  Thank you all and please know I cherish those comments so don’t hesitate to leave one if you are moved to do so.  I also loved reading about everyone’s most cherished cooking tool.  It seems that simple tools are the things that people can’t live without – wooden spoons, whisks, spatulas, zesters, tongs, chef knives.  Quite a few of you need your Kitchen Aid mixers (I understand) and Nancy can’t live without her wine opener – amen Nancy!  I want to cook with you!

Graham picked #44 which was Tammy who loves her apple slicer.  Tammy,  please email me at danatreat {at} gmail {dot} com so I can get your address to send you the Japanese knife, shears and paring knife combo, and the $25 gift card.  From the conference, I also have a voucher to mail in for a Cuisinart mini food processor.  I already have one so Graham picked #31, Lesley who loves her tongs, as a second prize winner.  Lesley, please email me so I can send you the voucher.

So, New York.  Wow.  I had so many memories being in that city.  Because both of my parents are from there, I grew up going back East at least once a year.  At first we went to visit family and then, as my extended family became more and more estranged, we went just because we wanted to.  When my dad moved our little family to Seattle in 1972, there was not much going on here and it was hard for my mom to leave the Italian food, the theatre, shopping, and the culture.  He appeased her with one family trip and one trip just for the two of them each year.

I went to college in Connecticut and would take the train down to the City a couple of times a semester.  My mom’s cousin and her husband still live on Staten Island and I would stay the weekend with them.  From time to time, I would also take the art history bus in just for the day.  I went in my 20′s before I met my first husband, I went with him just after we were married, and I went with him as our marriage was completely falling apart.  I went with Randy right before we were married, and again while we were living in London, and then this past trip.  New York is a city that I keep coming back to and while it does change, parts of it are refreshingly always the same to an admiring visitor.

One of the first questions I got from people when I told them I would be visiting is, “Where are you going to eat?”  We had three nights and, because there were other people involved besides just myself and Randy, I only got to plan one of those nights.  I chose WD-50 because I have heard so many incredible things about it and because I am fascinated by that type (molecular gastronomy) of cooking.  Years ago, Randy and I were lucky enough to eat at The Fat Duck just outside of London.  It had just been awarded it’s third Michelin star and the 17 courses we ate were by far the best food of our life.  Not only did they make all of mine vegetarian, Randy thought my food was even better than his.

I had heard that WD-50 could do a vegetarian tasting menu for me as well and so I encouraged our table of five to go that route rather than ordering off the à la carte menu.  The guys’ food was clever and innovative (including a play on bagel and lox where the “everything bagel” was bagel shaped ice cream) but mine was a little ho hum.  Out of nine savory courses, three of them were soups and four of them were fried.  I started off tweeting was I was eating and as they all started to blur together, I stopped.  Still, twelve courses of vegetarian food is always a treat and the mere fact that they offer it (and that they also offer a vegan tasting menu) makes me appreciate the restaurant.

If you watch Top Chef, you probably would recognize the chef, Wylie Dufresne.  He has been a guest judge and competed in Top Chef Masters.  He has kind of stringy 70′s era hair and pseudo mutton chops.  In other words, he is instantly recognizable.  As we walked in to the restaurant and I could see into the kitchen, I was impressed to notice he was in there cooking.  I love that a well-known chef is still doing his job.  At the end of the night, he was sitting at the bar with some friends and while I got my coat on, my husband thanked him for a great meal.  I walked up and told him how much I appreciated the thoughtfulness that went into my menu and that we vegetarians usually get the short end of the restaurant stick.  He said, “Well, I’m sorry you are a vegetarian.  If you ever change your mind, come back and I’ll buy you dinner.”  Given that I haven’t eaten meat in 23 years, it’s not likely that I will wake up one day and decide to start eating meat, but if I do – I’m hopping on an Eastbound plane.

The other two dinners we had were good but nothing to write on my blog about.  I had the good fortune to meet Stacey from Stacey Snacks for lunch at the Standard Grille and while the food was good, the company was the most delicious part.  She is gorgeous, funny, and we have about a million things in common.  I knew just from reading her blog and her emails that we would get along but I had no idea that it would be so much fun.  I was also able to see my friend Victoria which was wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time.  She had just gotten some not-so-terrific news and was still handling it like a champ.  If you have a spare second, please send a good vibe to her.

I’m heading to New York on the red-eye flight tonight.  I’m meeting my husband who is there (again) for work.  I am leaving my sweet boys in the care of our most trusted and loved babysitter Erika.  When Randy took this most recent job, he thought that the travel would be minimal when it fact it has been maximal.  (I know that’s not a word, but shouldn’t it be?)  As the trips began piling up in the calendar, he asked me when I would like to go to New York with him.  He knows I love it there and I haven’t been in six years.  My favorite time of year anywhere is the fall, so we settled on October.

I am reminded that six years ago, Randy and I were just settling in to our year in London.  His sister planned an October wedding in Richmond, VA and we were scheduled to fly in for it.  She was kind enough to invite my parents and we decided to meet up first in New York so that I could have a little more time with them instead of just the wedding weekend.  My parents are both from New York – Dad from the Lower East Side and Mom from Long Island – so I have lots of memories of time spent in the City with them.

Just a month before we were set to meet, I got an unthinkable phone call from my dad.  He was having some strange symptoms and when he went to get checked out, they found that he had a tumor on his bladder.  Subsequent appointments showed that it would not be possible to remove the tumor safely and they would have to actually remove his bladder, hope that they got all the cancer, and construct a new bladder for him out of a part of his own intestine.  He decided to schedule the surgery for after the trip to the East coast – he was so looking forward to the trip and his doctors didn’t think waiting a few weeks would matter.  I made the decision to return to Seattle for a few weeks after the wedding to help him and my mom out.

Those days we spent in New York were wonderful.  The weather was perfect, we ate well, we shopped, we walked, we sat in the park, we saw a show.  We could forget for moments the scary thing that awaited all of us after the fun was over.  It was the most bittersweet vacation of my life.  As we traveled south to Richmond and the surgery loomed closer, it was harder to pretend that we weren’t nervous.

I’ll cut to the chase and tell you that this story has a happy ending.  My dad had a rough recovery initially but recover he did, and he has been cancer free these six years.  He is as incredibly active as he was before the surgery and has continued to work as an oncologist helping people with their own cancer diagnoses and treatments in the warmest and most human way possible.

Ironically, as I am about to get on a plane to New York, I got word that my college roommate and friend Victoria has just had surgery for invasive breast cancer.  I haven’t seen her in years and have only been in touch with her via Facebook.  She lives in New York and she has a baby girl and she has an unfathomably tough road ahead of her.  The first thing I did when I talked to her yesterday (after telling her how sorry I am) was to offer up a conversation with my dad.  He has walked along the breast cancer road with countless patients, some even younger than the 39 years of my dear friend, and I so hope that he can be a resource, or even just a comfort to her.  I hope that I can see her and hug her and meet her baby.  I wish I could cook for her.

So, I’m feeling guilty.  Guilty that less than two weeks ago I was in San Francisco and tonight I head off to another world class city.  I’m feeling lucky that I live a life where travel like this is possible.  I feel thankful for my health, my family, my family’s health, and all the other things that make my life blessed.

In the middle of August, we took one last trip to Lopez Island for this year.  As crazy as the summer is, our fall appears to be even busier so I don’t think we’ll be able to squeeze in another weekend before the weather turns ugly.

When I turned 39 back in July, I wrote about some of the things I would like to accomplish in the coming year before the big 4-0.  I told you this would be the year of yoga and so far that part of it is shaping up well.  I have been going to class 3 times a week and am feeling more and more that I would like to get back to teaching.  Slow and steady though – I need to get my own practice back on track before I start teaching others.  I also mentioned some of the cooking challenges I wanted to tackle and included in that list was working on Holly B’s cinnamon rolls and almond butterhorns.  (If you are new here, I’ve raved about Holly’s cookies here and here and I’ve written love letters to Lopez here and here.)

(She is not really the mayor of Lopez, but she should be.)

What I didn’t say is that what I really wanted to do was bake my way through her amazing cookbook.  I know, we are all over this approach, right?  Julie and Julia and all that.  There are groups all over the food blog world who are slowly cooking or baking their way through books.  I am so 2008.  But I’m not wanting to start another group, I’m just wanting to make every recipe in her book and become a better baker along the way.

Because Holly B’s is a bakery close to my heart and because she is essentially a one woman operation, I decided I would ask her permission before starting and certainly before posting any more of her recipes here.  I wasn’t sure of the response I would get but before I could get the words out, she cried out, “Sure, I’d love it!  Do you want to take pictures?”

So, my Holly B’s baking adventure begins.  I plan to post a recipe from her book each Tuesday which is the day the bakery is closed during the summer.  I am not going to go recipe by recipe because I know it will bore me to make bread for weeks, cookies for weeks, etc.  A little jumping around will make it more interesting but I do plan to make everything at least once.  I will also always post a link to her web site where you can buy the book for yourself.  Believe me when I say it is a treasure!  Click here to order a copy (you will need to send her a check.)

In addition to eating things like this amazing pizza at the bakery (recipe coming someday soon!), we went to a beautiful park.  It’s called Spencer Spit and we hadn’t been in a long time.  I love it there for the ever present beauty, for the ferry views, and for the driftwood sculptures.

But these days I think I especially love the park because Spencer is also the name of this guy.

And while I’m posting pictures of my sweet boys, here is one more.  To me, these guys do not look like brothers.  Graham is long and lean with dark skin and gray eyes.  Spencer is thick and stocky, pale and blond with hazel eyes.  But in this photo, with them both laughing, they do look alike to me.

For a great recipe, check out what I posted a year ago – Chocolate Toffee.

I am very much looking forward to this trip.  We started going to Sun Valley when I was 11 years old – to ski in the winter and to enjoy all a mountain resort with incredible weather has to offer in the summer.  It is one of my favorite places on Earth.  We will be staying right in the delightful town of Ketchum and, because of the ages of our children, will most likely take it pretty easy.  Walks to the park, maybe a chair lift ride up the mountain, a swim here and there, a visit to a gorgeous lake, and lots of eating.  I must have an Idaho baked potato.  If you haven’t had the pleasure, there is a reason Idaho license plates say “Famous Potatoes”.

I had hoped to prepare a couple of posts to publish while I was gone, but it’s just not to be.  Like I did the last time I skipped town, I want to recommend some awesome sites that I am just loving these days.

I love Gwen at Pen and Fork for her innovative and downright delicious looking food.

I love Sala at Veggie Belly for her incredible vegetarian food, amazing photography, and for being one of the kindest people I have encountered in the blog world.

I love Sara at Sprouted Kitchen for the artful photography and healthy but nourishing food.

I love Tara at Seven Spoons for her perfectly worded prose and delightful recipes (and also for being a mom of two young boys).

I love Ashley at Not Without Salt for her ingenious ways with food and her easy-on-the-eyes web site.  (Another mom of two young boys.)

I love Marta at Just Call Me Marta for her wise words and incredibly positive approach to life and it’s challenges.

And I love Sarah at In Praise of Leftovers because she is a good reminder that we all could do more, not only with the food that we already have in our kitchens, but also for the community.

There are many more – I could probably make this list once a week and add new sites each time.  Enjoy your reading and I’ll be back with more Treats in a week.

I didn’t grow up going to the beach.  Oh, we have beach here in Washington state.  Miles and miles of it.  Contrary to what some people might think, Seattle is not actually on the coast.  I like to think of our state in the shape of a square root sign.  Seattle is in the “v” of that sign on Puget Sound.  If you want to get to the ocean,  you have to drive south and then west across the Olympic peninsula.  After about 2 1/2 hours, you reach the Pacific Ocean.  It’s beautiful and it’s cold.

The towns out there aren’t all that nice so when we would go to the coast, we would actually head to Oregon.  The entire coast line of that gigantic state is public beach and it is absolutely breathtaking.  You may have seen photographs of Haystack Rock, a 235 foot monolith sitting just a few feet from the shore – that’s in Cannon Beach and that is where my family usually stayed.  We went there for the beauty, we went for long walks on the beach, we didn’t go there to swim.

One year my brother Alex was in a small sailboat that tipped over in Puget Sound.  He had on a life jacket and was rescued about 20 minutes after he went in.  He got hypothermia.  This was in August.  If the water in the Sound is that cold, imagine the wide expanse of the Pacific Ocean.  No, we don’t swim out here on this coast.

My mom always says one of the hardest things about leaving New York to move to Seattle was not going to the beach in the summer.  Jones Beach was a big part of her childhood.  In my childhood, aside from a few trips to Hawaii, most of our warm weather vacations involved a pool.  Actually, come to think of it, most of our vacations were spent skiing.  Not a lot of beach when you are skiing.

In contrast, Randy and his family would head to the Maryland shore every summer.  Almost his entire extended family (and they are Catholic so there are a lot of them) lives in Baltimore and they would all descend on Ocean City for the week around July 4th to rent various houses.  Randy’s immediate family didn’t live in the area, so this was a chance for them to all reconnect.  Randy doesn’t have much of a memory, but there are lots of things he remembers about going to the beach.  He feels strongly that we go every few years so our children can build some of these same memories.

I’m happy to go.  I love this large extended family.  I love how his uncle Dan goes down early in the morning and stakes out territory with all kinds of umbrellas and fancy folding chairs.  This year we were 55 people so that is a lot of space to stake out.  I love the warm sun and the sea air.  I can’t say I love the sand, but I’m getting used to it.  I love the lazy day that involves nothing more than meals and walking to and from the beach.  Happy hour starts early and the nights go late.  There is always singing and guitar playing involved which creates some anxiety for me, but once I get my first song over with, I’m usually ready to sing more.  It’s a really nice vacation.  Before we left, we were thinking we would go every third year.  Once we got there (we were at Bethany Beach which is actually in Delaware), I told Randy I thought we should make it every other year.  I’m already looking forward to next time.

A word about the above photo.  My mother-in-law likes to have photos.  Not just a snapshot, although she likes those as well.  There are lots of photos of Randy and his sisters growing up posed in their Sunday finest.  It’s actually very sweet.  Somehow I didn’t get the memo that there would be a photo this year so I didn’t pack appropriate clothes for the boys.  Actually, I don’t even know if I have appropriate clothes for the boys – we live in Seattle after all.  So, while I was out sunning myself, Randy took the boys to a cute shop in town and bought them these super preppy and totally adorable outfits.  He never ceases to amaze me.

For those of you who are wondering when-oh-when I will get back to talking about food…soon, I promise.  Just need to shake the sand out of my suitcase.