This Summer I plan to channel the Dora-the-Explorer within me by sightseeing in my own spectacular back yard. For the past 25 years, living in the West, I’ve been destination-driven, always traveling here-to-there, too busy for stops among those smelly roses. Lately I’ve reached that, “If Not Now, When” point in life, worrying that those pesky roses could wilt. (Maybe, I’m more concerned about me wilting.) Whatever my reasoning, my route is clear. Colorado, Utah. Nevada, and Calli. Bring it on!
The Mike O’Callaghan-Pat Tillman Memorial Bridge, Hoover Dam (roadboystravels.blogspot.com)
It will be difficult to ever top my exhilarating premier adventure. Last Friday morning I walked over the Hoover Dam on a bridge that soars 900 feet above the meandering Colorado River. In a skyscraper, that would put you about on the 65th Floor. Take a deep breath.
Construction on the Mike O’Callaghan – Pat Tillman Memorial Bridge began in January 2005, shortly after we moved here. To watch its six years under construction was to recognize American ingenuity at work. The experience of my then standing on it was, in a word, awe-inspiring.
View from the Nevada side, beginning of the bridge walk
an iPad photo opportunity for a lucky tourist
This is the first concrete-steel composite arch bridge built in this country, its concrete arch being the widest in the Western Hemisphere. Although Colorado’s Royal Gorge Bridge claims bragging rights to being the highest, the Hoover Dam bypass bridge is a close second. This entire project was successfully completed on budget at a cost of $240 million.
I chose to visit early, beating tourist buses and the heat. It’s easy to spot the two kinds of bridge visitors. One is wearing a wide, Holy Cow, grin. The other, terrified, unable to move, clutches the railing with claws of steel. Don’t expect to hear English. Hoover Dam, one of the modern wonders of the world, is a must-stop for international visitors. Unsurprisingly, the experience of crossing this nearly 2000 feet long expanse, has been added to their list. The bridge, part of U.S. 93 and the North American Free Trade Agreement route between Mexico and Canada, connects Nevada and Arizona. It is named after former Nevada Governor Mike O’Callaghan and Pat Tillman who graduated with honors from Arizona State University, played professional football for the Arizona Cardinals and died in 2004, at the age of 27, from friendly fire in Afghanistan. More than 14,000 vehicles roll across the bridge daily.
Another Hoover Dam view, walking to Arizona
From the Arizona point-of-view
At the Apex (pinnacle) of the structure I met a little girl, casually relaxing on the bridge walkway (her family was nearby, albeit not in the photo). As I strolled by, she mentioned, “Daddy’s bridge.” Being the curious journalist and spotting a photo op when I met one, I stopped for an explanation. “Daddy” turned out to be Nic, the Project Engineer for the bridge’s construction. He was joined by Mike, the first Project Manager. Nic and his family now live in Iowa and were making their first trip back to see his bridge-in-action!
Taking a short rest of her Daddy’s Bridge
Mike, first Project Manager, Boulder City (left); Nic, Project Engineer, Iowa
Friday was a beautiful, lucky-to-be-alive, 80-degree day in Nevada. As I lingered at the Apex of this daunting example of design and engineering, my exhilaration could not help but be tempered by the tragic Tillman story, still a recent and bruising national memory. Although this was uncomfortable, I considered experiencing sadness an appropriate part of this journey.
The bridge is open to walkers from dawn to dusk. I know I’ll return, again and again.
Plaque marking the Apex, the highest point of the bridge over Hoover Dam (flickr.com)
A 5A.M. Snack and Taste Test, Coconut Friands, at the local athletic club.
It’s probably true that you either like coconut, yum-yum, or dislike it intensely, yuck. If you’re in the black camp, just close this Post and take a peek next week.
Egg Whites, Coconut, Sugar, Flour, Vanilla, Salt and Melted Butter – Whisk Together.
I added the blackberries before baking the mini-cakes.
Coconut friands are light, moist teacakes, very close cousins to the financier, a small, rectangular French almond pastry. The financier, baked in a shaped mold, is somewhat more complicated to make. Friands, very popular in Australia and New Zealand now, are simpler to make and usually have additional flavorings. Chocolate. Fruit. Nuts. For this week’s FFWD recipe choice, we are making Coconut Friands.
Although the blackberry was rather large for the dainty mini-cake, it tasted delicious as a breakfast treat.
With the added cupcake liners, the friands unmold from the pan easily.
The ingredients all go together quite easily. The batter turns out thick and shiny. The most difficult part is spooning it into mini-muffin tins. I suggest using paper cupcake liners. Because I wanted to share these with my early morning exercise class, I plopped a big, fat blackberry on the batter before baking. A mini-breakfast. Enjoyed by All. Simple.
Adriana, enjoying a mini-cake before our 5:30 A.M. Spinning Class.
Dominick, our spinning instructor, to taste or not to taste. “It’s Early.”
With thanks to the athletes at the Anthem Country Club Athletic Club, Henderson, Nevada. To be asked to taste test a tea cake as well as have a camera flash go off in your face at 5A.M. in the morning qualifies as being not only sports-minded but a good sport.
When life hands you lemons, forget the lemonade, vodka or tequila and salt. Here’s an idea…….Lemon Loaf Cake. (You can thank me later.)
Happy Easter. Pina, with her Sicilian candy, Torrone Siciliano, meets my very American Lemon Loaf Cake.
I’m a lucky woman. If I cannot join my kids for a holiday celebration, I am always invited to join neighbors Adriana and Bobby Scrima, and their extended family. I’ve been adopted. This Easter my kids were in Hawaii so I was asked to join the Scrimas for dinner.
Adriana and her family immigrated to the United States from Sicily forty years ago when she was 8 years old. Their story deserves a Post of its own but today’s TWDorie/BWJulia is about food so I’ll stay with that subject. Her mother, Pina, still cooks in the European tradition. Her food is fresh, what’s locally available, and absolutely delicious. If Pina’s cooking, there’s not an empty seat at the table. This year, as usual, Bobby’s boyhood friend, Joe, his wife, Amalia and their 8-year-old son were joining us. What made Easter 2012 special was the presence of Amalia’s parents, Maria and Fernando, who were visiting from Madrid.
Tony, Adriana’s father, keeps me stocked with ground Italian oregano and sundried tomatoes.
Clockwise, Tony, Fernando, Maria and Pina. A four-language conversation!!! A joyful Easter.
As far as languages go, here’s the lineup, who speaks what:
Maria – Spanish
Fernando – French, Spanish
Pina – Spanish, Italian, and English
Tony – Italian
Amalia – Spanish and English
Joe – English, English and English
Adriana – Spanish, Italian and English
Bobby – English, English and English
Yours Truly – English and French
Although we considered charting who could understand whom, we decided to throw all those languages into a pot and let it boil. It worked.
Bobby, by the grill, with Joe. And, the English-speaking guys stand alone.
Lemon Loaf Cake, Tuesdays with Dorie, Baking with Julia
Usually, at Easter, I give my hosts chocolates and wine. This year I decided to bake this week’s recipe, Lemon Loaf Cake, a scrumptious citrus sidebar to the traditional pound cake. Developed by Ritz Carlton’s corporate pastry chef, Norman Love, I found this cake to be moist, firm and rich.
Just out of the oven. No added attractions. The color is nice.
This cake is simply made and easily eaten. The most difficult technique is grating the zest of 3 large lemons! The other ingredients can be thrown together in ten minutes. Bake it for 60 minutes. That ubiquitous toothpick, to be inserted into the center, must come out clean. Although I sprinkled confectionary sugar on this loaf, it requires no special embellishments. Simply standing on its own or with the fresh fruit and sorbets we offered as toppings, this Lemon Loaf Cake is a winner.
Zest three large lemons.
Ready for the Oven.
Everyone tried, tasted, and had an opinion about my dessert. In Italian. In Spanish. In French. In English. What I know for sure is that the English-speaking crowd loved it. My international friends wrapped up the leftovers, to enjoy a bedtime snack. Food has a universal language all its own, doesn’t it?
I want to whisk together a bowlful of gratitude to Marilyn, http://cookteachgrow.wordpress.com/about/, a Colorado baker who is part of the Tuesdays with Dorie/Baking with Julia group. Marilyn, aka Piebird, has just given me a Liebster Award, a fun recognition of food blogging sites. It’s nice to realize we high-altitude bakers are hanging together, Marilyn. Thank you.
I cannot decide if the problem was my being away for 11 weeks, spending the winter on the central California coast, or returning home 2 weeks earlier than expected. When I drove into my driveway, saw the uncut lawn, caught a glance at the runaway shrubbery, and spotted those errant weeds, I channeled the Lomax. “I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues,” he whispered, with a grunt, groan and tsk, tsk, tsk.
It gets worse. My small 11-foot patch of grass in the backyard? Half gone. While Mama was away, those pesky rabbits did play. Two of them, who had no fear, were still in residence, munching away. Although I’d hired people to care for my lawn, it obviously had not gone well. Let’s rephrase that. Well, it had gone. Since I’d been up all night and had just completed an 8-hour drive, I simply wanted to unpack my car and sleep the day away. First, however, I wrote my groundskeepers their last check, slapped a stamp on an envelope and walked to the mailbox.
Survival of the fittest. Some fruit must be picked off now to allow others to grow..
Flowering Dwarf Fruit Tree
PART TWO:
The great French novelist Marcel Proust wrote, “Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”
Proust knew his prose. What I needed was a charming gardener who would do some soul-blossoming. After prowling the neighborhood, soliciting suggestions, I had the names of several good candidates. By midweek, I had found a new best friend, Peter Bruno of Anthem Landscape & Design. By the end of the week, Pete and his crew had carried 12 humongous plastic bags of cuttings to the local landfill. Remember, I live in the desert and my property fits on a postage stamp. Think, overgrown. Then, supersize it.
A sunny day in Nevada, preparing to replant my herb garden.
Planting new herbs among the well-established perennials
Now, to the challenging issue. My backyard lawn. Please keep in mind, I don’t like fake things. I want my fences to be wooden, my shingles to be shake and my grass to be growing. Although this was more an obsession than addiction, it was clearly time, my friends thought, for an intervention.
My neighbor, Ray, “Mary, I think you should consider artificial turf for your back area.”
My friend, MIchelle, “Mary, look at my yard. It’s fake. No watering. You’ll save money.”
Over the back wall, another neighbor, Bobby, yells, “Mary, it’s okay. The artificial stuff looks better than it used to look.”
Pete is amused. “Let me show you top-of-the-line turf, Mary. It’s good quality.”
I overheard Bobby say to his wife, Adriana, “She’s not going to win with the rabbits. Either she goes artificial or gets a dog.” (Although a dog is in my future, any self-respecting Golden Retriever puppy would be hatin’ me when the Vegas summer temps rise to 110 degrees.) I chose fake.
The artificial turf is applied quickly before I change my mind.
This is NOT a Golf Course or Putting Green. Honest.
Three days later Pete carpeted my backyard lawn. The next day southern Nevada was blessed with its first rainstorm in months. My first thought? “Terrific, the new grass will get a good soaking!”
Oops. Then, I remembered. Even if it looks good, I will never admit it.
PART THREE:
Miracles do happen.
Despite Pete’s do-over and ongoing assistance, I am not a Checkbook Gardener. If something’s going to be planted in my yard, I want to be the one to dig that hole. Thinking to myself, I have a Master’s Degree and can outsmart any four-legged Thumper without declaring war, I sought a solution.
Container Herb Gardening
Container Herb Gardening
This week I reenergized my herb garden but moved all the bunny-friendly food, the basils, the parsleys, to huge pots. Every container owns a new drip line, its private source of water. Although container gardening is nothing new, it is a novelty to me. I’m enthusiastic, however, and my inventory of planters is expanding as fast as I can find plants to put in them. If there’s a future Queen of Drip Lines, I might win the crown.
Order has been restored, bringing honor to the advice of the Lorax to the Once-ler:
Rillettes de Thom, tuna paté, an elegant spread that can be served for any special occasion.
“At the avant-garde Parisian bistro Itinéraires,” Dorie Greenspan writes in her recent cookbook, “ sardine rillettes is served in a martini glass topped with a baby scoop of cornichon sorbet.”
Pronounced ree-ett (the ‘s’ is not pronounced), and called the poor man’s paté, Sardine Rillettesis our FFWD recipe choice for the week. Unfortunately, this Iowa farm girl, admittedly unsophisticated, cannot sit at that bistro table.
Not that I didn’t try to find some willing “tasters”. In desperation, my last stop was at our housing community’s security gate to see if any guards liked sardines. They weren’t pleasant in their replies. I didn’t even mention the cornichon sorbet. Admittedly, the last goody I dropped off at the gate was a sheet of warm cinnamon rolls. They’re spoiled rotten.
Instead, I turned to Dorie’s other two rillettes recipes, salmon and tuna, and decided to go with the tuna. Clearly, this is one delicious ree-ett: soft, spreadable, a tad rich and quickly made.
All the ingredients, dumped into my mini-chopper.
Here a pulse, there a pulse, everywhere a pulse, pulse. Voilà. Rillet
I threw two cans of chunk light tuna, a shallot, curry powder, crème fraîche, salt and pepper, into my Ninja Food Chopper and pulsed the ingredients together. After adding a squeeze of lemon joined by one last pulse, the paté needed to be refrigerated. After its flavors intensify (chill at least an hour), Rillettes de Thon is a delightful spread with crackers, bread or toast.
I will use the leftover rillettes, if there is any, as the centerpiece of the Salade Niçoise I plan to make for lunch tomorrow.
Cover the mixture and refrigerate it for at least an hour. For me, overnight.
Salade Niçoise with Tuna Rillettes Tastespotting.com
It’s important to remember that albacore tuna is too firm and dry for this recipe. Otherwise, there’s not much to dislike about this tasty treat.
