Cooking . The General
Clam Shells are for Clams
On August 11, 2019 by Speranza
An artist friend of mine who never had a great deal of money always used to say that no matter what, he always made sure that his soap and tea were of the best quality that he could afford since they were among his few luxuries and would be used daily. I have never forgotten this sentiment since it struck a chord with my own measured, Capricornian (but not completely stoic) sensibilities.
A few Christmases ago, Frasier spoiled me by presenting me with loose-leaf Vanilla tea made with Assam tea leaves. The whole ritual and build-up to the tea drinking itself is an exotic event and the scent when the boiling water plummets through those leaves is ambrosial, amber, vanilla steamed heaven in a (porcelain) cup. I now find that it is the only tea that I really enjoy and will squinge in many other ways in order to purchase. (The tea is not being flown in by leer jet by the way, just a lot more expensive than my traditional Tetley’s. I am also haunted by a sneering tea sommelier who once told me in a special voice that tea bags were made from the sweepings off the floor and did I know that?)
Divorce . Gardening . Retirement . The General
Nine to Five No More
On May 28, 2019 by Speranza
It’s been almost two months to the day since I cleared out my desk and began my (super early) retirement. I have purposefully not shared this information here because it is has been such a churning and peculiar adjustment, full of highs and lows, more than a few bracing 3 am walks around the hardwood floors but mostly, because I fear being judged as old and irrelevant, there I said it.
Gardening . Gray Divorce . Self-Esteem . The General
The Garden of Weedin’
On June 3, 2018 by Speranza
I was never The Master Gardener in my previous life. I always loved the garden and had distinct ideas about what was swoon-worthy (tangled drifts of blue and white flowers; nothing too contrived; no tight dots of military arranged begonias). However, the reality was, I placed no real value on my own contributions and it was simpler to pass the reigns to my husband as he strutted through the garden with Napoleonic control, instinctively knowing what should go where and why certain colours were superior to others. My role (which we joked about frequently and the word “navvy” was often playfully supplied) was to clear out the weeds, bag and bundle the branches he tossed aside and make sure there was a pitcher of martinis and an elegant meal ready at the end of the day.
My Father . My Mother . The General
Crimson and Clover
On April 6, 2018 by Speranza
Before and after the Easter holidays, I traditionally take a few days off to complete projects I have been meaning to return to (I’m looking at you, streamlined recipe binders) no longer flinging ragged sheets everywhere as I try to squeeze your gaping three rings closed with an arthritic crocodilian snap. But in-between bursts of energy like this, The General and I have shut the doors against the snow and wind and taken to wandering around with cups of scented tea and wedges of sticky Baklava, talking for hours about topics as diverse as Sidney Bechet, British trade unionists (to be fair, we were considering The Perfect Dog Name for a dog we do not have – yet) and soon to be perused Roberto Bolaño, the poet that Patty Smith mentions so often in M Train.
In short, it’s my idea of bliss.
Being A Girl . The General
February Blahs
On February 10, 2018 by Speranza
There’s a meme depicting a vintage woman with her head in her hands and the caption reads something like, “being a woman is like having a browser with 3,000 tabs open all.the.time.”
This is so, so true. At any one time, I can be thinking about a new recipe I want to try, whether or not I have time to go to the market, that spot under the door where an ambitious wind is literally sucking the heat out of the house, a subsequent trip to the hardware store for draft edging (maybe on the way to the market?) why I haven’t called my brother(s) lately, which kind of seeds I should start for the spring, if it’s worth pursuing a skin regimen that would include coconut oil, debating whether tomorrow is the time to begin afresh with a stretching routine and some actual meditation and then throw The General off completely by asking him randomly if he also thinks (as I do) that Coco Chanel’s famous boyfriend Boy Capel as seen here, looks exactly like Harry Connick Jr. right in the middle of a post-breakfast discussion about the British Raj in subcontinent India …
I think it can be quite alarming for him.