Isn't He Sweet?

Jake took this picture of Henry yesterday. It captures him perfectly. His still baby fine hair and Darth Vadar t-shirt.

For Mother's Day there was a card made to accompany his thumbprint bug flowerpot. Written in his first-grade writing was this....

Dear Mom,

I love you.
I love Star Wars more.
Just kitting.

Love,
Henry

Isn't he sweet?

People Make Pie!

Did you know that? Real people make pie with their hands. I don't mean you and me - we know we make pie- I mean other people. There are places you can go and slices of homemade pie are available for sale. Seriously.

We had vehicles with exhaust problems but no one locally wanted to repair the broken part - just the broken part. The whole kit and caboodle was the deal. We don't even need to speak of expense - it was astronomical. As luck would have it, there is a guy, a really nice guy in a town west (quite a bit) of us willing to cut out the bad part and replace only that part. Genius, less wasteful and happily far less expensive.

Rocky drove us to the local restaurant and we settled in with books, notepads and conversation for the 2 hour wait ahead. We each ordered a club sandwich from the attentive waitress with a Minnesotan accent. There is really nothing to say about the squishy, pink tomato club - nothing at all. But toward the end of our visit things started looking up when the pie lady walked through the door. Tall with white hair, wearing polyester pants in a springy pastel, some of the pies were still warm. They were in real pie tins. Dutch Apple, Strawberry-Rhubarb, Lemon Meringue, Coconut Meringue and Cherry.


I brought home a slice of Coconut Meringue because coconut is off limits by all other Downings. The meringue melted in my mouth with a touch of burnt sugar essence. The vanilla custard, with inconsistencies befalling homemade was layered with lots of coconut. The crust which was paper thin crumbled like old paper. I think it was made with lard. It was a lovely pie.

The best part of my midday gluttony was the simple joy of a homemade, small batch pie made by a seasoned pie maker. There still are old ladies wearing polyester pants baking pies.

Some days everything - mufflers and pie included - is right in the world.

You Must Have...

A slow cooker. I don't care if you are what some call a "gourmet cook" you must have a slow cooker or crock pot in real people vernacular. There are super fancy ones like the All-Clad variety or there are the really affordable type that you can pick up at Kohl's or Aldi. I tend to feel that a crock pot (ahem..slow cooker) is just a crock pot. Fancy bells and whistle or no - they both get dinner on the table on an insanely busy day.

Even the uninitiated cook can make a super meal say with a decent piece of meat and some broth. Crock pots essentially braise so think tough, inexpensive cuts, chicken on the bone.


On this particular day believe I had some onions, a piece of pork shoulder, some of Daddy's fabulous Green sauce and obviously limes and avocados.

I am not sure I remember correctly but think I put this together on a night I had a class and the end result was served on whole wheat tortillas with guac. Perhaps there was rice and fruit. I am sure I remember correctly that you said it was delicious and you were all well fed with real food.

At the end of the day that's super important to me and I just wanted you to know.

xoxo,
Mommy

Flea Market Finds

Sunday, at the last minute, Max and I went to the Kane County Flea Market. Flea marketing is something I inherited as has Max so I am assured of a willing partner. I've been in search of what is commonly referred to by some, as "other people's junk", I am proud to say since my pre-teens. My interests come and go. Some things are in the collection forever. Others the collection of the year.

The wind was so insidious we decided to hit our favorite buildings and save outdoor hunts for June. I bee-lined to my favorite vendors. Though I didn't buy any I did see some old photos. I love old photos and some of my collection is on my website. Just a select few of many and no, I don't know any of those people.


As I wound my way through the booths, while Max was looking for old LP's I found myself thinking of other people. People near and dear to me. This book made me think of Doug -King of the Fryer.


It was May Day and this creamer made me think of my Grandmother. She made May baskets with my brother and I and loved violets. I moved some violets from her yard to my first home and then again to the yellow house.



The chalk ware dogs made me think of my mother. She loves anything dog related and has a collection of these vintage ones on her sitting room wall.


My Grandfather had a glass paper weight just like these sitting on his desk. The particular fragrance of that room, old wood and paper, still lives in my memory. Carefully taped in the paperweight was a yellowing Instamatic photo of me, my face covered in cottage cheese. I am sitting in the highchair my Grandfather ate meals in and in turn, my uncle, mother, brother and all four of my children.


I came home with some cool stuff that day, most of which would cause people to question my motives. The best finds were thoughts and memories of people I love and that alone was worth five bucks to get in.

Food Snob Seeks Banana Bread

I am not fond of the term foodie. I abhor the thought that local or organic food is elitist. I have four kids and there is nothing elitist about my budget or my grocery list. I recently had a minor (really minor) revelation about the most basic of homemade foods. Banana bread. (I told you it was minor) I've never posted a banana bread recipe and quite honestly have avoided it for blog purposes. Making banana bread for anything "special" is so prosaic. Prosaic is even too fancy a word for banana bread. So really, I am a food snob, aren't I?

But, doesn't everyone have memories of mom's banana bread? Who hasn't made a loaf to save sad fruit from dying a slow death by blackening? Made a loaf as a thoughtful gift for a neighbor? Is it not the "go-to" baked good for moms across America?

In truth, I have made hundreds of loaves of banana bread. I would critique most as just okay but nonetheless, I'd willingly try any recipe. A one shot deal and then off to the next in search of the banana bread to end all banana breads.


It's all about the recipe and finding a good one can be tough. The only one I've truly ever been attached to is my mom's. The only problem with that is I (shamefully?) admit that banana bread isn't worth 2 sticks of butter. Canola oil, let's talk. But butter? I recently discovered the recipe I now turn to when inexpensive breakfast/snack food needs call. Do I have to say it? Williams-Sonoma. Lord you'd think I was a paid spokes person.


Worth trying? Certainly. Worth typing out for this post? No way. You'll find it here.

Sorry, old judgments die hard.

The Yellow House In Spring

The yellow house is our second home. Our first house was 3 blocks away - a post war Cape Cod that we loved dearly. When Ella was on the way, and space was a commodity, Doug made it his mission to find us a new house. Our current home had been on the market and was a house that constantly caught our eyes. After our Cape Cod it seemed to be a mansion and so darn cute. After many trials and tribulations, the house was eventually ours. Right away we began to call it The Yellow House to differentiate our homes - the one we were moving out of and the one we were moving into - to keep confusion to a minimum for Jake and Max. It's the only house Ella and Henry know. It's truly a home.

A long while ago, I decided it would be nice to take a photo of the yellow house in each season. Documentation of the home we love would be a nice for the kids. They'll gather around at holidays and peruse pictures remembering how awful it was not live on a cul de sac or in a subdivision. Hopefully though they will remember picnics on the porch, walks to school and how cool the proximity of 7-11 was.

This idea began in the summer - June 2009 specifically. Unfortunately, as with the best laid plans, it fell to the wayside. The roof was really beginning to show its age, and once it was replaced, the sun was wrong or it looked a bit too depressing to photograph on a freezing January day.

Today, I resurrect this plan. It's such a beautiful day the timing seemed perfect.


We love you yellow house. You are our home.

My New Baby

Today while at Woodman's I wistfully breathed in the marvelous fragrance of the itty bitty in the baby aisle. I tried to maintain focus on the task at hand rather than shop for baby accessories I don't need. I swiftly hustled down the aisle, my cart over flowing with food for the large, sometimes smelly and continually hungry. Lingering would have brought the heartache that creeps in when I am reminded my baby days are over.

But never mind, one able to make a baby out of anything...perhaps I should re-phrase that....baby anything I am typically undaunted. Beyond my beautiful children, I mother anyone/thing allowing it.

Junie B.


A beautiful bowl of dough.


A chicken.


Or this little cutie I picked up at the Green City Market.


With tender love and care, she'll make my days brighter, grow toward the sun and someday share little baby figs of her own.

I can't wait.

In the meantime, if you need a sitter, I am in the book.