S is for Sad……and for the mysterious appetite that often surges in us when our hearts seem to be breaking and our lives appear too bleakly empty. Like every other physical phenomenon, there is good reason for this hunger, if we will be blunt enough to recognize it.”–M. F. K. Fisher, An Alphabet for Gourmets
The most beautiful sound caused me to catch my breath as I scraped warm wax from a board this evening. A magical, simple pleasure that made my mind and heart travel back fifteen years to a time when that sound belonged to a much smaller incantation of the one I’d just heard. Back to the easy days of holding small hands crossing the street, catching 40 pound bodies as they plummet down the park slide and cutting crusts from peanut butter sandwiches. To a time when the tugs at the heart were associated with fleeting desires to have them stay this way forever-to never grow up and to continue to delight in the innocent pleasure of the sway of a lazy sprinkler on a hot summer day. The sound was so familiar to me that on many another day, with different tasks filling my minutes and engaging my brain, it has gone unnoticed-simply continuing its bounce off the wall and up the stairs to dissolve in the beeswax fumed air of my studio. But this evening it captured me.
Grabbed my heart and filled my thoughts with smiles. A laugh: The free flowing, still innocent laugh of a child. Deeply resonating in its post-pubescent growth and full of presumed-self knowing that would daily be challenged by this worlds rough edges; the laugh was still mine- still his. Still held the timber of the three foot tall, chipmunk-cheeked youth slipping through spring-mud filled grass. It captured me now for the bittersweet warmth of its existence-soon to be gone. Soon to exist in the vacuous silence of my reminiscing alone. Exist only in the memory of its once innocent flutter from the sofa, up the stairs and to my concentrating ears and mommy heart. feed the hunger. in love. trish
Grabbed my heart and filled my thoughts with smiles. A laugh: The free flowing, still innocent laugh of a child. Deeply resonating in its post-pubescent growth and full of presumed-self knowing that would daily be challenged by this worlds rough edges; the laugh was still mine- still his. Still held the timber of the three foot tall, chipmunk-cheeked youth slipping through spring-mud filled grass. It captured me now for the bittersweet warmth of its existence-soon to be gone. Soon to exist in the vacuous silence of my reminiscing alone. Exist only in the memory of its once innocent flutter from the sofa, up the stairs and to my concentrating ears and mommy heart. feed the hunger. in love. trish
Brian’s favorite rhubarb berry crisp
‘crisp’:
‘crisp’:
1 c flour
1c brown sugar
1 c quick oats
1 t cinnamon
2 sticks butter, melted and cooled
Mix the crisp ingredients until crumbly. Press 1/2 the mixture into a greased baking dish. Spread 4-5 c chopped rhubarb and assorted seasonal berries over this base. In a saucepan blend
1 c sugar
3 T flour
1 t vanilla
1 1/2 c water
Cook this mixture until it thickens (about 5 minutes) then pour over the fruit. Spread the remaining 1/2 of the crisp over this layer and bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour. Allow to cool and dig in. It only gets better with time~and a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream!
I make this for Brian, exclusively. He can eat a 10×14 dish of it in three days easy; that’s if he’s pacing himself.