Creative cooking and living in the fertile Salinas Valley, east of Eden, along California's central coast
“But in California it does not ordinarily rain at all between the end of May and the first of November.”
East of Eden, John Steinbeck
Sharing garden photos after the early May rain. Even more rain is coming this week. This has been a stellar year for rain and snow in California. After years of drought, everything is growing and blooming. Lush. Summer will be majestic this year.
“He wandered by the sea from the border north as far as San Luis Obispo, and he learned to pilfer the tide pools for abalones and eels and mussels and perch, to dig the sandbars for clams, and to trap a rabbit in the dunes with a noose of fishline. And he lay in the sun-warmed sand, counting the waves.”
East of Eden, John Steinbeck
Sharing something different this time, photos from Cayucos Beach. Cayucos is a sleepy little beach town between Cambria and Morro Bay on Highway 1, in central California. There’s not much too do, which is why I recommend it. No museums to visit, no amusement park rides, no crowds, just a few antique shops and restaurants. Visiting Brown Butter Cookie Company is my only don’t miss recommendation. Top Dog Coffee will jump start the day. The main street rolls off Highway 1, straight through town, the beach is right there. South of the Cayucos beach by the pier, there is easy public beach access between the homes facing the beach. Parking is allowed by these beach access points. A long walk on Cayucos beach will take you to Morro Strand. From Cayucos it’s a short drive to Harmony or Cambria or even Hearst Castle to the north. To the south, it’s an easy drive to Morro Bay, Montaña de Oro , San Luis Obispo or even the touristy Pismo Beach.
Aron seemed perfectly calm. He sat in the living room, looking at cartoons in old numbers of the Review of Reviews. From the kitchen the odor of the bursting juices of roasting turkey began to fill the house.
East of Eden, John Steinbeck
We humans are makers, creators, hands busy creatures, dreamers. We know what motivates us, where we find our joy. All that talk about results oriented, achieving goals can cloud the joy in doing. I find it spilling over from my previous life in management. I track myself with lists, the daily, the goals. The, the, the. Attending the International Food Bloggers Conference really clarified my motivation to blog. I find joy in the making. When lost in the process, the doing is my bliss. I’d bet you’re a creative too, because we all are. This year’s IFBC experience was like having my vision checked and then realizing that my new glasses helped so much. I couldn’t believe I was making do with my old pair. Why did I wait so long to see clearly?
Homemade Potpourri for the Holidays is a project that rewards the doing. The best way to start making potpourri is to take a brisk autumn walk. Gather fallen pine cones, seed pods or dried berries. All these autumn things are currently littering every path and sidewalk. The experience of gathering and choosing each item begins the creative process. I like an array of colors, shapes and textures but choosing just one item from outside and bringing inside is all you need. Once in the kitchen the aroma of warming spices, apple and tangerine are a pure jolt of winter bliss. I made a big batch so I would have extra for gifting. Even a small project of one bowl of Homemade Potpourri for the Holidays has its reward. This isn’t an exacting recipe for potpourri, it’s more of a nudge of inspiration to set you on a path of autumn discovery. Make your own joy.
“It’s one of life’s great fallacies, it seems to me, said Lee, that time gives much of anything but years and sadness to a man. And memory. Yes, memory. Without that, time would be unarmed against us. “
East of Eden, John Steinbeck
We said good bye to Zeus, our 13 year old chow-chow, the day after Thanksgiving. It’s been tough. We knew his time with us was coming to an end, but still. I’m a cat person who fell in love with a ten year old rescue dog. That says so much and yet so little. We knew he was old when he became a part of our lives. We adopted him anyway. We accepted him for who he was and he accepted us. We stayed with him every step of his journey. We navigated his challenges as he aged and loved him even more. We miss him.
“When we were children we lived in a story that we made up. But when I grew up the story wasn’t enough. I had to have something else, because the story wasn’t true anymore.”
East of Eden, John Steinbeck
Our kitchen table top was made from packing crates. Covered with a plastic cloth patterned to match the seasons it is the table my mom still uses. My dad was in the Army and we had returned to the states after his tour of Austria and Italy. There were six inexpensive chairs purchased in Italy but there was no kitchen table. Sitting on my dad’s lap I banged my knees on the huge gray trunks that held up the makeshift tabletop before he added four proper legs at the wood shop at Fort Bragg. So much has happened around that kitchen table, the history of our family is embedded in every piece of scrap wood.