Archive for 2007
Love Thursday: Flowers Dried with Love
I’ve read that it’s bad luck to have dried flowers hanging around the house because they are a symbol of death–although that idea seems to be eroding a bit, proving that even ancient Chinese philosophies can be guilty of old wives’ tales.
Maybe I’m taking a risk, but I love flowers in any form, and I don’t see any reason why you can’t still enjoy them for what they have become.
Overlooking my house’s only staircase is this wrought iron structure. I started hanging bunches of flowers on it about three years ago, although there still aren’t very many bouquets. This is because most of the flowers I receive, buy, or pick can’t be dried as they’re too fragile, but see those yellow ones? Those were my very first International Women’s Day mimosa.
And although it’d be romantic to say that the big bunch of roses in the upper right corner were from P to mark some special occasion, it’d also be a lie. P’s more of a pick-flowers-on-the-go kind of guy, which suits me just fine–I don’t do well with fresh roses as I’m slightly allergic (my mom is full allergic). Plus I’m more of a wildflowers kind of gal anyway.
The roses you see were actually found in a rubbish bin near one of this village’s thirteen churches. Only one of the churches still operates regularly, but for every church, there is at least one woman who opens it up weekly, cleans it, and puts in fresh flowers, candles, prayer cards, etc.
When I saw those roses, still mostly alive although admittedly past their prime, outside one of the smallest and best hidden churches, I marveled at how much care goes into beautifying something that only one other Being sees–that one other Being being the whole point of having the church.
And the little bouquet of red in the middle? In this village, we have many immigrants from Africa and Colombia as well as Kurds from Turkey and Iraq. Just after I arrived came Helen, a nine-year-old Ethiopian girl who had come here with all the men in her family; at that time, there were no other immigrant girls or women (although now there are, as many have rejoined their families).
Both of us hungry for some female companionship, we forged a friendship, taking walks, picking wildflowers, drawing (I keep a stash of colored pencils for children guests, well, and me), and learning Italian together–she much faster than I. One day when I answered a knock at my door, I opened to only fresh air. Then I looked down and saw a small bunch of roses lying on the doorstep. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Helen’s head popping back behind the corner.
When I was thinking of a Love Thursday post, I thought of these dried flowers and how even though some may simply think of them as dead and ready for the rubbish bin, I keep them as reminders of times past–good and bad, but mostly good.
Either way, every bunch has a story.
Only as I was taking this photo did I realize that there happens to be a big heart in the middle of the iron structure, so maybe (hopefully) even under Feng Shui principles, that counteracts the death vibes.
Yes, of course I had noticed the heart there before, but you know how sometimes things around you become so commonplace that you don’t appreciate their uniqueness anymore?
Guilty.
But I like to think I’m getting better.
Happy Love Thursday everyone!
What’s Cooking Wednesday: Louise’s Banana Cake (Moistest Banana Cake Ever)
Since March has again turned colder and since I just happened to have some overripe bananas laying around, I decided to do some baking yesterday.
Wait, are you suggesting that I purposely didn’t eat those bananas the past few days just so I could make Louise’s Banana Cake?
Oh, dear blog readers, you know me too well.
So, as mentioned, this week’s What’s Cooking Wednesday is Louise’s Banana Cake. Perhaps you remember that my mom’s name is Mary, and my grandmother was Paulina/Pauline; if so, maybe you’re wondering who this Louise character is.
Louise was my grandmother’s neighbor and “good buddy,” as she always said, whose family surely has no idea that her legacy lives on in my family in the form of an old, tattered recipe.
Louise's Banana Cake Original Recipe
Yes, it’s that good. In fact, it’s my second favorite cake of all time, after only the chocolate one I shared with you last month.
When writing this post, I remembered that I actually have some old family photos in an album here, and lo and behold, there is one of my grandmother (left) and Louise lounging about in what was at the time our half of the backyard; my family now has the whole thing (without the dividing fence) because after the whole row of houses burned down in 1971–stopping at our house–Louise’s family chose not to rebuild on the same spot; my grandparents bought the entire lot and built the house that I and my brother grew up in and where my father now lives. Check out that car in the background y’all!
My grandmother and Louise of Banana Cake fame in our backyard
Ahem, right. The recipe.
It’s for an ordinary 13 x 9 pan, but this time I made muffins and a loaf (looks like bread but tastes like cake!).
My mom does a fabulous thing with this cake for special occasions–makes a whipped cream icing (recipe also below) and then does a layer cake, putting the whipped cream and fresh banana slices in the middle and then whipped cream, banana slices, and maraschino cherries on top with a sprinkling of walnut shavings. Yum!
For those of you in Italy, you can safely make the following substitutions: (1) 225 grams of butter instead of shortening; and (2) one teaspoon of “lievito vaniglinato per dolci” in place of the baking powder and vanilla extract.
Louise’s Banana Cake
Banana cupcake waiting for its espresso
1 c mashed bananas (2 medium, overripe)
1 1/2 c sugar
1 c vegetable shortening
3 eggs
3 c flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 c sour milk (add 2 tbsp of lemon juice or vinegar to sour it)
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
1 c chopped nuts (optional)
1. Mash bananas and set aside.
2. Mix together sugar and shortening, and then add eggs and beat until pale yellow.
3. Mix together the dry ingredients, and then add them to the sugar/shortening mixture, alternating with sour milk and vanilla. Batter will be thick.
4. Add bananas and the nuts if you’re using them, and beat until blended.
5. Pour or spoon into your baking vessel of choice and bake at 325°F (162°C). If baking a 13 x9 cake, it should take about 45 minutes, but check progress after a half hour or so. Muffins and loaf pans will take less time, so remove when the tops springs back from the touch and/or when a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Whipped Cream Icing
1 pint heavy whipping cream
1/4 c sugar
1 tsp vanilla
Whip (on high speed) until stiff peaks form.
Banana cupcake: Nom nom nom
Buon appetito!
ode to march
For my second Monthly Musings, it’s time to tackle big bad March.
I had originally planned on posting each Musing on the first of the month. Yes, I know March is nearly over, but since I made up this meme only for me, I can make up the rules as I go along too. Kinda like Calvinball, for those of you who remember my fascination with a little boy and his tiger.
Anyhoo, I’m most definitely not a poet, but this time, I decided on a haiku–thanks for the inspiration Bella and Guinness Girl!
Maybe I’ll do this for all the months now.
Or maybe I’ll change my mind come April.
I love power.
Me and My March
Flippant, fickle month
Warm, cold, wild, calm, cruel, and kind
My kindred spirit.
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[tags]march, poppies, flowers, haiku, poetry[/tags]
La Festa di San Giuseppe: Fava Beans and Cream Puffs
March 19 is the Festa di San Giuseppe: St. Joseph’s Day and Italian Father’s Day. Celebrations include fava beans and cream puffs (but not together).
Read on...sunday scribblings: inspiration
Prompt #51: Inspiration
Oh the irony that I vaguely posted on this subject a mere two days ago, and here I am doomed blessed to revisit inspiration once more.
I’m not going to lie to you. The first thing that came to my mind when I read this prompt was the 1984 heart-warming ditty of Chicago, “You’re the Inspiration.” But since I have no specific memories attached to that song other than singing obscenely loudly (hardly unique to this tune), let’s move on.
Let’s talk about writing. Again.
Many writers refer to their projects as their babies, and I feel the same. If we’re lucky, the reward is a healthy, well-composed baby, and the path to get there is paved with inspiration–great when it’s around, torturous when it’s in hiding.
For me, inspiration comes when it comes, and there’s just no amount of pushing that’s going to convince the baby to come out until it’s ready. (I’d say “good and ready,” but this writer certainly cannot guarantee goodness the first time around.)
As far as I know, there’s no writing inspiration equivalent of a C-section just yet, and doesn’t sound like a particularly enticing idea anyway, but I do hear that walking around sometimes helps move labor along; with writing, I have to agree with this tactic as well.
Breathing fresh air and connecting with other living things–people, animals, or simply nature in general–often gives me that extra push I need to complete something, to break through a mental block, to inspire me to continue. And this isn’t limited to just writing. That load of laundry that’s beginning to move by itself? The floor that hasn’t been mopped since B.O. (before Obama)? The layer of dust that blurs my niece and nephew’s photographed faces?
It’s not a sure thing, but all of these chores have a much better chance of being tackled after I reintroduce myself to the outdoors.
Procrastination? Nah. Inspiration!
And there’s no better time than Spring to drink in all the inspiration I can stand.
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[tags]inspiration, writing, spring, primavera, flowers, sunday scribblings[/tags]
Michelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived.
Calabria Guidebook
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