Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
April 30, 2012
Trains Magazine Contribution
Recently I submitted one of my pictures to Trains Magazine for their "Trackside with Trains" feature. It's a 'vote for your favorite' kind of feature. The theme was titled "Yellow". The idea is to submit a rail related photo that has something to do with the color yellow. I went through my portfolio and narrowed it down to a couple of pictures. After agonizing over the decision (well, not really) I chose a picture I took in Alviso. My entry tallied enough votes for a respectable third place.
Back in the mid to late 1800's Alviso was destined to be a port city. Shipping from San Francisco and beyond would arrive in Alviso for distribution throughout the south San Francisco bay area. At the time the area was a large agricultural region. However, the hopes of it becoming a booming port city were dashed when the San Francisco and San Jose Railroad bypassed Alviso. The growth in transporting commodities by rail was the death knell for Alviso. The building captured in the image is the former Laine's Grocery in the late 1800's. The building was in use up until major flooding caused severe damage in 1983.
April 16, 2011
December 26, 2008
Anticipation Is The Key
I have come to the realization that Christmas dinner in and of itself is enjoyable, but it's the preparation and anticipation of it that brings me the most pleasure.
This year we spent the GNP of a small third world country on a succulent cut of beef loin (filet mignon). Five and one half succulent pounds. It was daunting to say the least. I would be responsible for creating a masterpiece of culinary delight. I have cooked many a tasty steak on the barbie. I've flipped a darn good burger over an open flame, but never have I baked a loin in the oven. Certainly not five and one half pounds of anything!
I sifted through a plethora of recipes in countless cookbooks and Food Network links. I followed links of links to sites like Cooking Light , Allrecipes.com and Epicurious.com. I came to the conclusion that all recipes for cooking a beef loin have at least two ingredients in common;
After you get past that epiphany, it's all downhill from there.
The only information I needed after my conversion on the road to Damascus was cooking times and temperatures. That was easy enough to find. All told I must have wasted two days fretting over "the recipe". They all had variations of the same ingredients. Some had butter, others had mustard, one had teriyaki. You get the picture. Pick your herbs and spices, load 'em on top and throw it in the fridge overnight. Iron Chef here I come! My choice of seasoning was a prepacked grilling/roasting "bouquet". It contained fresh sprigs of Thyme, Sage and Rosemary. Seemingly cliche, these herbs are truly a miraculous combination. Chop several cloves of garlic, which you can never have too much of, some salt and pepper and olive oil and you're off to the races.
Mrs. Farfromgruvin was intimidated with my choice of meat. Neither she nor I had ever attempted anything so brash, so outlandish a Christmas dinner. The usual ham or turkey was tossed out the window (figuratively of course). This pathway into the abyss was enough to have her hand the reigns of meat control over to me. She did not want to take the fall for a possible leathery, skunkweed smothered, disaster. Feeling rather emboldened I accepted the coronation, grabbed my sceptre and dove headlong into the task.
Our house was built in 1963. I believe only circus midgets and Amazonian pygmies dwelled in the United States at that time. The fabulous design and architecture of our kitchen allows nearly two people to be in the kitchen at the same time. Heaven knows there's only supposed to be one pregnant woman in there, in a pair of slippers if she's lucky. The close proximity of the confined quarters makes choreographing meal preparation a necessity. It goes something like this; I'll be doing task "A" on countertop "B" while Mrs. F uses countertop "D" to perform task "C". She will move stovetop item 1A to the sink for draining while I switch fresh chopped bowl of items 3D to pot on burner 4G. This frees up burner 5F for the incoming pan of sauteed items 6A and 7B. Once burners 4G and and 5F are vacant, tray 2C from the oven can occupy, temporarily of course, those burners during the turning and basting. Alerting one another to our next movements, we flawlessly (hmm) perform our ballet-like meal preparation throughout the day.
Christmas music played in the living room. The smooth and silky voices of Bing Crosby, Dean Martin, and other classic crooners hung in the air. The dog and cat lay patiently near the kitchen waiting for stray morsels to tumble onto the floor. The aroma from the stove and the oven infused the entire house. Fresh coffee, hot apple cider, herbs, scented candles. It was all so idyllic. We anticipated the arrival of family as we cooked. We talked, we laughed, we lived.
Dinner was grand. The meat turned out wonderful. The company was special.
Just as I anticipated
This year we spent the GNP of a small third world country on a succulent cut of beef loin (filet mignon). Five and one half succulent pounds. It was daunting to say the least. I would be responsible for creating a masterpiece of culinary delight. I have cooked many a tasty steak on the barbie. I've flipped a darn good burger over an open flame, but never have I baked a loin in the oven. Certainly not five and one half pounds of anything!
I sifted through a plethora of recipes in countless cookbooks and Food Network links. I followed links of links to sites like Cooking Light , Allrecipes.com and Epicurious.com. I came to the conclusion that all recipes for cooking a beef loin have at least two ingredients in common;
1. Olive Oil
2. Spices
After you get past that epiphany, it's all downhill from there.
The only information I needed after my conversion on the road to Damascus was cooking times and temperatures. That was easy enough to find. All told I must have wasted two days fretting over "the recipe". They all had variations of the same ingredients. Some had butter, others had mustard, one had teriyaki. You get the picture. Pick your herbs and spices, load 'em on top and throw it in the fridge overnight. Iron Chef here I come! My choice of seasoning was a prepacked grilling/roasting "bouquet". It contained fresh sprigs of Thyme, Sage and Rosemary. Seemingly cliche, these herbs are truly a miraculous combination. Chop several cloves of garlic, which you can never have too much of, some salt and pepper and olive oil and you're off to the races.
Mrs. Farfromgruvin was intimidated with my choice of meat. Neither she nor I had ever attempted anything so brash, so outlandish a Christmas dinner. The usual ham or turkey was tossed out the window (figuratively of course). This pathway into the abyss was enough to have her hand the reigns of meat control over to me. She did not want to take the fall for a possible leathery, skunkweed smothered, disaster. Feeling rather emboldened I accepted the coronation, grabbed my sceptre and dove headlong into the task.
Our house was built in 1963. I believe only circus midgets and Amazonian pygmies dwelled in the United States at that time. The fabulous design and architecture of our kitchen allows nearly two people to be in the kitchen at the same time. Heaven knows there's only supposed to be one pregnant woman in there, in a pair of slippers if she's lucky. The close proximity of the confined quarters makes choreographing meal preparation a necessity. It goes something like this; I'll be doing task "A" on countertop "B" while Mrs. F uses countertop "D" to perform task "C". She will move stovetop item 1A to the sink for draining while I switch fresh chopped bowl of items 3D to pot on burner 4G. This frees up burner 5F for the incoming pan of sauteed items 6A and 7B. Once burners 4G and and 5F are vacant, tray 2C from the oven can occupy, temporarily of course, those burners during the turning and basting. Alerting one another to our next movements, we flawlessly (hmm) perform our ballet-like meal preparation throughout the day.
Christmas music played in the living room. The smooth and silky voices of Bing Crosby, Dean Martin, and other classic crooners hung in the air. The dog and cat lay patiently near the kitchen waiting for stray morsels to tumble onto the floor. The aroma from the stove and the oven infused the entire house. Fresh coffee, hot apple cider, herbs, scented candles. It was all so idyllic. We anticipated the arrival of family as we cooked. We talked, we laughed, we lived.
Dinner was grand. The meat turned out wonderful. The company was special.
Just as I anticipated
December 22, 2008
Christmas In The Nest
The empty nest, that is.
While it is my favorite time of the year for friends and family, meals and drinks and gatherings, this year is very different than all the rest. This year I do not work Christmas morning. Only the fourth time in twenty one years that has happened.
This year I won't worry about rushing home from work as soon as I can after punching the clock. I will not quietly open the front door or step lightly down the hall avoiding the dog sleeping by the bedroom doors. This year there will be no delighted little ones scurrying to the fireplace to dive in to the goodies in their stockings. Actually those "little ones" haven't been around for years, but it's a pleasant thought anyway. This year I can sleep in if I want to, which I don't. This year it will be just me and Mrs. Farfromgruvin.
The morning will be quiet. We'll have the Christmas music on. The fresh, piping hot pot of coffee will be brewing in the kitchen spilling it's fragrant aroma throughout the house. Maybe there will be cinnamon rolls in the oven or eggs on the stove. Slices of cranberry orange bread on the table with a selection of jams and jellies. The tree with it's warm glow in the early daylight will complete the scene. Everything will be perfect. Perfect except for the absence of our kids.
Both son and daughter are out on their own now. Both starting new lives as independent adults. Doing the daily adult routines, working, paying bills, cooking meals (maybe not that one!). No matter the age they will always be "the kids".
It's been a sobering month. The realization that "the kids" will never again jump out of bed and scramble into the living room to see what Santa brought them has dampened spirits in the household. Not soaked, only dampened. There are still nice plans for Christmas dinner with my folks. My brother-in-law and his girls are coming as well. My son should be there for a short stay. He says he has plans with friends and can't stay too long. My daughter will be in Los Angeles with her fiance's family. In the end, it will still be a wonderful and memorable Christmas. They always are.
While it is my favorite time of the year for friends and family, meals and drinks and gatherings, this year is very different than all the rest. This year I do not work Christmas morning. Only the fourth time in twenty one years that has happened.
This year I won't worry about rushing home from work as soon as I can after punching the clock. I will not quietly open the front door or step lightly down the hall avoiding the dog sleeping by the bedroom doors. This year there will be no delighted little ones scurrying to the fireplace to dive in to the goodies in their stockings. Actually those "little ones" haven't been around for years, but it's a pleasant thought anyway. This year I can sleep in if I want to, which I don't. This year it will be just me and Mrs. Farfromgruvin.
The morning will be quiet. We'll have the Christmas music on. The fresh, piping hot pot of coffee will be brewing in the kitchen spilling it's fragrant aroma throughout the house. Maybe there will be cinnamon rolls in the oven or eggs on the stove. Slices of cranberry orange bread on the table with a selection of jams and jellies. The tree with it's warm glow in the early daylight will complete the scene. Everything will be perfect. Perfect except for the absence of our kids.
Both son and daughter are out on their own now. Both starting new lives as independent adults. Doing the daily adult routines, working, paying bills, cooking meals (maybe not that one!). No matter the age they will always be "the kids".
It's been a sobering month. The realization that "the kids" will never again jump out of bed and scramble into the living room to see what Santa brought them has dampened spirits in the household. Not soaked, only dampened. There are still nice plans for Christmas dinner with my folks. My brother-in-law and his girls are coming as well. My son should be there for a short stay. He says he has plans with friends and can't stay too long. My daughter will be in Los Angeles with her fiance's family. In the end, it will still be a wonderful and memorable Christmas. They always are.
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