Wednesday, June 27, 2012

"Did you see about Nora?"

June 26, 2012, 9:13 pm:

A text comes through from my best friend. "Did you see about Nora? Are you so upset? I'm so sorry."

Bewildered, I immediately dial Shirah, thinking, oh no, did Nora get fired? Is her new play gonna be a flop? No, not Nora! She'd never be a flop. The line rings, once, twice. "Hmm, maybe Shirah ran into her in Manhattan and she was terribly mean to her because she'd just been dumped. Maybe her husband left her! Oh no, what happened to Nora, my beloved writer, favorite filmmaker, most treasured essayist, dearest hero? Third ring. "Heyy......" Shirah's voice is sullen.

"Hey, I just saw your text...what's up about Nora? What did I miss?" my voice is casual and a tad indifferent. If Nora was fired, screw them. She'll be better off somewhere else. Omygod, what if she had a stroke? Is this why the text said, "I'm so sorry"??? She won't be able to write anymore, or make another film because the side of her face is sagging and her neurological disorder prevents her. Is this why my best friend, a New Yorker now, like Nora, immediately wrote me, her most dedicated devotée? Who already has her future baby named Nora, after the great Nora Ephron. I think back to Spring when Shi texted that she was in a café and saw Nora in a corner reading a paper. I wanted to book a flight to that café then and there. I've always dreamed of one day meeting her.

"She passed away....." Shirah's voice is crackly and breaks off. My world goes silent. My body is numb. I don't breathe or think. My face feels like it's falling. Salty liquid drags at my tear ducts, but I'm still silent and numb. "What?" is all I can muster up, thinking I heard her wrong. "Shannon she passed, I'm soooo sorry. I thought you knew?"

Numbness turns into immediate devastation. I can feel my face now. I can feel the liquid salt bursting to break free. I lose it. My bed is near, thankfully, and I fall into a million pieces. My body is heaving, I'm weeping and gasping and begging that this isn't true. I feel like my grandmother has just passed, not a stranger I only "know" through words. I start hyperventilating, but realize I'm also still on the phone and I stop hearing my best friend's voice, as I run to my iPad for confirmation. Maybe there was an error. In a brief memory flash I think back to Joe Paterno, and how CBS announced his death erroneously.

My fingers dance across the screen's Google bar. "Nora ephron"

Search.

"Nora Ephron dead"

I cannot exactly process what this death means for me. I have never met this woman. I always thought I would, and yet now that time has passed. I remember all of my favorite movie lines from "You've Got Mail", my all time favorite of hers and in general, and keep crying. Now I'm convulsing, which brings my poodle George walking cautiously into the room. He jumps up on the bed, licking my tear-stained shirt, licks up my arm to my drenched cheeks and licks the snot bubbles at my nose before I push him away. I don't even care that my face is destroyed. My heart is, at this moment, broken.

Shirah and I hang up, because I need to tell my mom, who is saddened but not in a crushing way that I am. I'm devastated. How many laughs and tears has dearest Nora brought into my world? From a young age, how many times did I doodle "Harry and Sally" in the margins of middle school looseleaf paper? How many times did I put the You've Got Mail VHS into our VCR, growing up in Florida? Or cry during Sleepless in Seattle, in that end scene when they FINALLY meet? I know every line of her films, yet in this moment of shock, can remember none. All I see in my mind is her characters, and her laughter in my heart as I grew up. Nora raised me. Through her charming and magical films, she reared an insecure doodler into a confident diarist. When grappling with a difficult situation and a conflicted heart, she gave me and countless other women the summons, "Write about it."

So write I shall. And my dear, precious writer, filmmaker, essayist and wishful friend, may you be forever writing your screenplays for all of heaven to witness and love.

Rest in peace, dearest Nora.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Spontaneous Farmer's Market Mini-haul!

So today, pretty late, we took a trip out into town and on our way there, stopped at the little Earlysville Farmer's Market. Not really looking for anything in particular, mom, little sis and I just were enjoying each booth.

I was intrigued by one booth in particular and got into talking about fresh beeswax lip balm with the owner, a young Joan Baez type. She was so artsy and cool and was telling me all about her family-owned business that sells really cool jewelry (they were featuring a "District Twelve" necklace!!!) and beeswax lotion. Very neat. A little vial on the table held fresh lentil beans. Awesome shop. We got into conversation about honey, and how she's a beekeeper and will be selling her honey in a few weeks. I was super into that prospect because I am a honey freak but have never had it raw. Usually it's too expensive.

I picked up her card then meandered over to another few booths, now on the search for some honey! I was at a booth smelling truffle butter when Mom and sis start waving. At their booth I found pure, raw honey! Just what I was looking for. The sweet old farmer even bagged the jar up for me, and I didn't have any cash so he said, get this, "hon you can just pay me next time". What??? I was incredulous by his generosity and such trust. Then he goes off and hands little sis a fresh apple out of a bushel on the table. Wow. That's country charm right there.

After our errands in town, including a stop at the bank for cash, we stopped back at the market. Sweet old farmer who I will affectionately call"Milton" because that's what he looks like to me, counted back my change for the raw honey THEN goes, "Here's some thing to snack on for the ride home." and dumps a carton of cherry tomatoes into a bag. Wow. I was gobsmacked by his kindness and will never forget it.

Mom also picked up some sugar snap peas and romaine lettuce! Check out our farmer's market haul!

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Grill, Baby, GRILL

Over the past two days I've been experimenting more in the kitchen. For a quick update, I've moved home temporarily and have been diagnosed with Lyme disease. I have found a naturopath and have been following a holistic treatment plan. I'll never take good health for granted again!

So, 2 nights ago my dad, J, and I worked together in the kitchen.

I found a beautiful flat-iron steak in the refrigerator, and at 9pm, realized that I better get the dinner ball rolling. Everyone else was reading, watching movies, or gardening (my mom likes to do this late at night after the sun goes down) so I started snapping beans. These are long, French string beans my mom has always used for one of our favorite family recipes, Provençal Green Beans. They're always fresh, NEVER frozen. That's a big no-no. So, I readied the beans, enlisting the help of my little sis. She's usually eager to help in the kitchen, and during this time of being, for the most part, bedridden (Feb and March), I like to oblige.

We get a rolling pot of water boiling and toss in the beans. Parboil 8 minutes. I like the beans like my pasta- al dente, in between firm enough to snap slightly but soft enough to chew. Ok that made no sense. Whatever. I like them chewy-soft. I'm going to stop. And blame my vocabulary mind blank on Lyme.

After you parboil the beans, drain then shock them in cold water. I am no culinary school graduate, but this may be called "blanching"?

Next in a heavy skillet (I use cast-iron), drizzle 1 Tablespoon olive oil and turn on medium heat. Add beans, and stir constantly. I use 2 wooden spoons and toss beans. You want them to be nicely coated with the extra virgin olive oil. My boyfriend made both of our moms garlic-infused olive oil for Mother's Day preserved in old whiskey bottles, and I use this to drizzle into pan. It was a great touch, because then the next step is taken care of: add 1-2 cloves crushed garlic.

I omit this, since I am in a slight hurry, usually burn the garlic, and nothing tastes worse than burnt garlic.

Toss the beans until tender, about 4 minutes, turning heat up to 6 or 7. Slightly below highest heat.

Next, I enlist J's help. He's somewhat of a steak aficionado and I'm, well, not. I did prep the steak by salting it well, something I've observed my boyfriend do many times. I always think he is over salting it, but then I remember that he is the one who went to culinary school. He knows a thing or two about salt. And nothing he's made for me has ever tasted too salty nor too bland. So he knows what's up. Therefore I do, by observation. Then I generously pepper it. Then, I marinate it in the garlic-infused olive oil. And rub some across my lips for a special treat.

Did you know they do olive oil tastings in Italy? Like wine tastings here. My paradise.


J gets the grill fired up, and checks on the baked potatoes he placed in the oven about 25 minutes prior to my starting the beans. He cuts each potato in half to cook easily, and slathers them with olive oil and butter throughout the baking process, about every 5 minutes.

As we're watching the grill heat up, I'm given a tutorial on grilling. The 2 minute tutorial. I'm told by J that flat iron steak is great, because it's cheap, but also full of flavor. Much more flavor than a filet. I make a mental note of this, as I don't do much steak-eating in general. Usually too broke!

We place the flat iron right on the grill, and I'm also told to always coat the grill rack a bit with olive oil. Not sure why. Too hungry to ask. He probably told me. Lyme brain.

Next, close grill cover. Set timer for 4 minutes. Walk away. Back inside, the potatoes are ready. We pull them out, set the table, and wait. Various dressings are placed out. I'm an A-1 freak, so that comes out *gasp* then Worcestershire sauce and butter, then rice magically appears from microwave *double gasp* and soon enough the timer dings.

Back outside, the steak is turned over and grills another 3 minutes. I'm sure to snap many photos of the lovely grill marks, then Instagram a couple. My new obsession. Which inspires me to cook more, so it's actually been a productive thing.

(I will have to figure out how to upload Instagram photos to Blogger. Don't hold your breath.)

Another tip from the steak guru: always let the steak REST after removing from grill. It's juices need to settle. Turn grill off. I don't usually worry about this at home, since the bf and I have a little charcoal grill.

My favorite part comes next. The aroma. I love the smell of anything grilled. Sitting on the table ready to slice into, the steak smells like summer. I can practically taste it just by sight. Which makes sense, since you eat with your eyes first.

The scent of summer and sight of perfect grill marks diagonally positioned across the steak remind me of glorious summer cookouts past, and the dream of more ahead.

The flat iron steak is ready to be sliced into. The best way to serve this is by slicing it into fine pieces, then passing them around and loading your plate with veggies:in this case, Provencal green beans and baked potatoes.

Biting into the succulent, rich, medium-rare meat, I'm treasuring good days now and to come.

Be Merry,

S

P.S. A-1 was not consumed! The jus from the steak was heavenly enough and full of such robust flavor that no artificial flavoring was required.

Ah. The good life.


Wednesday, June 27, 2012

"Did you see about Nora?"

June 26, 2012, 9:13 pm:

A text comes through from my best friend. "Did you see about Nora? Are you so upset? I'm so sorry."

Bewildered, I immediately dial Shirah, thinking, oh no, did Nora get fired? Is her new play gonna be a flop? No, not Nora! She'd never be a flop. The line rings, once, twice. "Hmm, maybe Shirah ran into her in Manhattan and she was terribly mean to her because she'd just been dumped. Maybe her husband left her! Oh no, what happened to Nora, my beloved writer, favorite filmmaker, most treasured essayist, dearest hero? Third ring. "Heyy......" Shirah's voice is sullen.

"Hey, I just saw your text...what's up about Nora? What did I miss?" my voice is casual and a tad indifferent. If Nora was fired, screw them. She'll be better off somewhere else. Omygod, what if she had a stroke? Is this why the text said, "I'm so sorry"??? She won't be able to write anymore, or make another film because the side of her face is sagging and her neurological disorder prevents her. Is this why my best friend, a New Yorker now, like Nora, immediately wrote me, her most dedicated devotée? Who already has her future baby named Nora, after the great Nora Ephron. I think back to Spring when Shi texted that she was in a café and saw Nora in a corner reading a paper. I wanted to book a flight to that café then and there. I've always dreamed of one day meeting her.

"She passed away....." Shirah's voice is crackly and breaks off. My world goes silent. My body is numb. I don't breathe or think. My face feels like it's falling. Salty liquid drags at my tear ducts, but I'm still silent and numb. "What?" is all I can muster up, thinking I heard her wrong. "Shannon she passed, I'm soooo sorry. I thought you knew?"

Numbness turns into immediate devastation. I can feel my face now. I can feel the liquid salt bursting to break free. I lose it. My bed is near, thankfully, and I fall into a million pieces. My body is heaving, I'm weeping and gasping and begging that this isn't true. I feel like my grandmother has just passed, not a stranger I only "know" through words. I start hyperventilating, but realize I'm also still on the phone and I stop hearing my best friend's voice, as I run to my iPad for confirmation. Maybe there was an error. In a brief memory flash I think back to Joe Paterno, and how CBS announced his death erroneously.

My fingers dance across the screen's Google bar. "Nora ephron"

Search.

"Nora Ephron dead"

I cannot exactly process what this death means for me. I have never met this woman. I always thought I would, and yet now that time has passed. I remember all of my favorite movie lines from "You've Got Mail", my all time favorite of hers and in general, and keep crying. Now I'm convulsing, which brings my poodle George walking cautiously into the room. He jumps up on the bed, licking my tear-stained shirt, licks up my arm to my drenched cheeks and licks the snot bubbles at my nose before I push him away. I don't even care that my face is destroyed. My heart is, at this moment, broken.

Shirah and I hang up, because I need to tell my mom, who is saddened but not in a crushing way that I am. I'm devastated. How many laughs and tears has dearest Nora brought into my world? From a young age, how many times did I doodle "Harry and Sally" in the margins of middle school looseleaf paper? How many times did I put the You've Got Mail VHS into our VCR, growing up in Florida? Or cry during Sleepless in Seattle, in that end scene when they FINALLY meet? I know every line of her films, yet in this moment of shock, can remember none. All I see in my mind is her characters, and her laughter in my heart as I grew up. Nora raised me. Through her charming and magical films, she reared an insecure doodler into a confident diarist. When grappling with a difficult situation and a conflicted heart, she gave me and countless other women the summons, "Write about it."

So write I shall. And my dear, precious writer, filmmaker, essayist and wishful friend, may you be forever writing your screenplays for all of heaven to witness and love.

Rest in peace, dearest Nora.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Spontaneous Farmer's Market Mini-haul!

So today, pretty late, we took a trip out into town and on our way there, stopped at the little Earlysville Farmer's Market. Not really looking for anything in particular, mom, little sis and I just were enjoying each booth.

I was intrigued by one booth in particular and got into talking about fresh beeswax lip balm with the owner, a young Joan Baez type. She was so artsy and cool and was telling me all about her family-owned business that sells really cool jewelry (they were featuring a "District Twelve" necklace!!!) and beeswax lotion. Very neat. A little vial on the table held fresh lentil beans. Awesome shop. We got into conversation about honey, and how she's a beekeeper and will be selling her honey in a few weeks. I was super into that prospect because I am a honey freak but have never had it raw. Usually it's too expensive.

I picked up her card then meandered over to another few booths, now on the search for some honey! I was at a booth smelling truffle butter when Mom and sis start waving. At their booth I found pure, raw honey! Just what I was looking for. The sweet old farmer even bagged the jar up for me, and I didn't have any cash so he said, get this, "hon you can just pay me next time". What??? I was incredulous by his generosity and such trust. Then he goes off and hands little sis a fresh apple out of a bushel on the table. Wow. That's country charm right there.

After our errands in town, including a stop at the bank for cash, we stopped back at the market. Sweet old farmer who I will affectionately call"Milton" because that's what he looks like to me, counted back my change for the raw honey THEN goes, "Here's some thing to snack on for the ride home." and dumps a carton of cherry tomatoes into a bag. Wow. I was gobsmacked by his kindness and will never forget it.

Mom also picked up some sugar snap peas and romaine lettuce! Check out our farmer's market haul!

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Grill, Baby, GRILL

Over the past two days I've been experimenting more in the kitchen. For a quick update, I've moved home temporarily and have been diagnosed with Lyme disease. I have found a naturopath and have been following a holistic treatment plan. I'll never take good health for granted again!

So, 2 nights ago my dad, J, and I worked together in the kitchen.

I found a beautiful flat-iron steak in the refrigerator, and at 9pm, realized that I better get the dinner ball rolling. Everyone else was reading, watching movies, or gardening (my mom likes to do this late at night after the sun goes down) so I started snapping beans. These are long, French string beans my mom has always used for one of our favorite family recipes, Provençal Green Beans. They're always fresh, NEVER frozen. That's a big no-no. So, I readied the beans, enlisting the help of my little sis. She's usually eager to help in the kitchen, and during this time of being, for the most part, bedridden (Feb and March), I like to oblige.

We get a rolling pot of water boiling and toss in the beans. Parboil 8 minutes. I like the beans like my pasta- al dente, in between firm enough to snap slightly but soft enough to chew. Ok that made no sense. Whatever. I like them chewy-soft. I'm going to stop. And blame my vocabulary mind blank on Lyme.

After you parboil the beans, drain then shock them in cold water. I am no culinary school graduate, but this may be called "blanching"?

Next in a heavy skillet (I use cast-iron), drizzle 1 Tablespoon olive oil and turn on medium heat. Add beans, and stir constantly. I use 2 wooden spoons and toss beans. You want them to be nicely coated with the extra virgin olive oil. My boyfriend made both of our moms garlic-infused olive oil for Mother's Day preserved in old whiskey bottles, and I use this to drizzle into pan. It was a great touch, because then the next step is taken care of: add 1-2 cloves crushed garlic.

I omit this, since I am in a slight hurry, usually burn the garlic, and nothing tastes worse than burnt garlic.

Toss the beans until tender, about 4 minutes, turning heat up to 6 or 7. Slightly below highest heat.

Next, I enlist J's help. He's somewhat of a steak aficionado and I'm, well, not. I did prep the steak by salting it well, something I've observed my boyfriend do many times. I always think he is over salting it, but then I remember that he is the one who went to culinary school. He knows a thing or two about salt. And nothing he's made for me has ever tasted too salty nor too bland. So he knows what's up. Therefore I do, by observation. Then I generously pepper it. Then, I marinate it in the garlic-infused olive oil. And rub some across my lips for a special treat.

Did you know they do olive oil tastings in Italy? Like wine tastings here. My paradise.


J gets the grill fired up, and checks on the baked potatoes he placed in the oven about 25 minutes prior to my starting the beans. He cuts each potato in half to cook easily, and slathers them with olive oil and butter throughout the baking process, about every 5 minutes.

As we're watching the grill heat up, I'm given a tutorial on grilling. The 2 minute tutorial. I'm told by J that flat iron steak is great, because it's cheap, but also full of flavor. Much more flavor than a filet. I make a mental note of this, as I don't do much steak-eating in general. Usually too broke!

We place the flat iron right on the grill, and I'm also told to always coat the grill rack a bit with olive oil. Not sure why. Too hungry to ask. He probably told me. Lyme brain.

Next, close grill cover. Set timer for 4 minutes. Walk away. Back inside, the potatoes are ready. We pull them out, set the table, and wait. Various dressings are placed out. I'm an A-1 freak, so that comes out *gasp* then Worcestershire sauce and butter, then rice magically appears from microwave *double gasp* and soon enough the timer dings.

Back outside, the steak is turned over and grills another 3 minutes. I'm sure to snap many photos of the lovely grill marks, then Instagram a couple. My new obsession. Which inspires me to cook more, so it's actually been a productive thing.

(I will have to figure out how to upload Instagram photos to Blogger. Don't hold your breath.)

Another tip from the steak guru: always let the steak REST after removing from grill. It's juices need to settle. Turn grill off. I don't usually worry about this at home, since the bf and I have a little charcoal grill.

My favorite part comes next. The aroma. I love the smell of anything grilled. Sitting on the table ready to slice into, the steak smells like summer. I can practically taste it just by sight. Which makes sense, since you eat with your eyes first.

The scent of summer and sight of perfect grill marks diagonally positioned across the steak remind me of glorious summer cookouts past, and the dream of more ahead.

The flat iron steak is ready to be sliced into. The best way to serve this is by slicing it into fine pieces, then passing them around and loading your plate with veggies:in this case, Provencal green beans and baked potatoes.

Biting into the succulent, rich, medium-rare meat, I'm treasuring good days now and to come.

Be Merry,

S

P.S. A-1 was not consumed! The jus from the steak was heavenly enough and full of such robust flavor that no artificial flavoring was required.

Ah. The good life.