Archive for June, 2010

The Treasures of Brussels

Wednesday, June 30th, 2010

If you’re in Paris for the first time, or even the second or third, you probably won’t want to go anywhere else.  But after that, you start to get adventurous, especially if you grew up admiring Hercule Poirot. And then you realize that Brussels is only a 90-minute train ride away.  And that Brussels looks like this:

And to sustain you through the miles of walking between Italianate Flemish, Brabant Gothic and the rest, just think of all the things to eat for which Belgium is famous.  We came up with ten:

1. Beer. It does SO qualify as a food if you were raised in my family.  Our bishop recently confirmed that fact.  (I’m not joking.  Would I joke about beer?)

2. Endives. Best enjoyed wrapped in ham and under a blanket of au gratin goodness, comme ca:

3. Stoemp, a mashed-potato dish with flecks of root vegetables, herbs and / or bacon.  The above was a very simple version.

4. Chocolate. It was on every corner, made into every shape and color and size.  Its fame is well-deserved.

5. Butter biscuits. Dandoy is the most famous of the biscuiteries, and we went a little crazy in there, buying varieties flavored with ginger, spices, orange zest, almonds and even Earl Grey tea.

6. Mussels. I actually had better mussels in Paris, but these were still quite good, especially the broth flavored with herbs and wine:

7. Frites. These are not just French fries; they are hand-cut, double-fried, crunchy-delicious works of art.  Local custom dictates dipping them in mayonnaise (shudder) but I think just a sprinkle of salt is best.

8. Beer. (We like beer.)  Did I mention that every variety has a special type of glass?  Well, it does.

9. Waffles. Although Rob pointed out that he’s never had a bad Belgian waffle, this was the best I’d ever had by far.  It was made from wheat flour, cooked until delightfully crispy on the outside, and topped with creme chantilly and kriek, a smoky-sweet sour cherry confit.

10. Petits Choux, the sprouts for which the city is famous.  Unfortunately, we didn’t see many places that featured them, so we left Brussels without having eaten Brussels spouts.  Quel dommage! I suppose we’ll just have to go back someday.

A Deep Breath

Monday, June 28th, 2010

Paris was, well, Paris.  Lovely, dreamy, even when it was cold and gray and en greve.

Now we’re back for a couple of days before our next trip.  Today I caught up on e-mail (which I hate) and did laundry (which I love.)  The cat is glued to my side.  Rain is falling, at long last, on my parched patch of earth.

After two weeks of rich French food, it was a pure pleasure to have swiss chard for lunch, with just a drizzle of olive oil and peppery tarragon vinegar for flavor.

Today feels like a huge, deep breath of home.

Missing the Boat

Friday, June 25th, 2010

The problem with being a teacher and a gardener is that summer is your only opportunity to take vacations.  Thus, Rob and I tend to have summers where we’re away more than home; we cram in the fun stuff for three frantic months.  Long weekends at his parents’ beach house, trips to see family and friends, and of course travel study programs, a.k.a. A Sneaky Way to Get Paid for Traveling.

One of the tenants at my friend Julie’s community garden recently poked fun at people like me:

They come out here in April, and they work so hard getting everything in the ground, and then come July, they go to Cape May for a couple of weeks. They come back and are like, ‘Oh NO, where did all these weeds come from?!’

As I was reading that, I was thinking, yep, that’s me.  We missed the radishes because of final exams and graduations — just forgot they were there, growing tougher and more fibrous with every day.  As we left for Florida I thought, “I wonder if I should pick the peas before we go?  Naaaah.”  When we got back I discovered they were good for nothing but next year’s seed.  And so on. This is to say nothing of the weeds that accumulate in our absence; I often resent our neighbors and housesitter because they get to enjoy the fruits of our labor, in the form of nice, neat beds.  By the time we get back, they’re weedy and overgrown again.

Most heartbreaking to me, however, is our hydrangea bush.  We bought it four years ago, just after it had bloomed; I fell in love with the blue lacecap flowers and variegated leaves.    Every spring, we’d get excited as the buds swelled on the dead-looking branches, but then we’d get a late freeze and no blooms, though the bush continued to grow.

We were beginning to give up hope, but that huge snowstorm seems to have called everything into action.  This year, it’s huge and laden with blooms.  They were just starting to bloom when we left:

Today, I’m willing to bet they’re gorgeous.  I’m also willing to bet they’ll be well past their peak by the time we return in a few days.  Sigh.  I hope the people walking their dogs by our driveway right now will stop to admire them.

Every Day I Read the Book

Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010

Not every day, but just about — and I start to feel antsy if I don’t.  Here are some recent decents:

  • The Crossing by Cormac McCarthy.  After I blasted The Road, my friend Matt convinced me to give this one a try.  I have to say that although it starts slowly, his style is very compelling and can explode into high-mindedness even in the midst of the most ordinary and banal life experiences.  Almost finished.
  • The Awakening by Kate Chopin.  I just finished this one, after one of my students wrote a term paper about it and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.  After several pretty interesting character studies, I was massively disappointed in the ending, which I had been led to believe was amazing and beautiful.  It wasn’t.  Plus, although she may have been the first to write the Bored Housewife Finds Love Elsewhere narrative, I’d already heard it enough before.
  • Farm City by Novella Carpenter.  Heartwarming and inspiring narrative about a writer named Novella (I couldn’t make that up) who raises bees, chickens and even pigs in urban Oakland.  And of course she has a huge garden, too.  Her personality irked me after awhile (a little too Julie and not enough Julia) but it was a pretty amazing story.
  • Food Rules by Michael Pollan.  As someone with absolutely no food rules (I don’t even fast very well) I figured I could use some discipline.  There are some great ones in there (don’t fill your stomach where you fill your gas tank), although following all 64 would probably make you crazy.  What about one per week?  Sounds like an interesting project.
  • A Separate Peace by John Knowles.  Also a student project that interested me enough to read on my own.  Barely started, but it seems a little slow.

Via The Week, I read on LiveScience last week that the more books a child has in his house growing up, the longer he will stay in school.  This assumes, of course, that the books are read and used, but I think one generally follows the other.

For instance, a child born into a family that had only 1 book but was otherwise average in parents’ education, father’s occupation, GDP, and similar variables, would expect to get 9.4 years of education themselves. Another person from an otherwise identical family with 500 books would expect to get 12.6 years of education (a senior in high school has 12 years of education), the results showed.

For years, educators have thought the strongest predictor of attaining high levels of education was having parents who were highly educated. But according to the findings, a good-sized book library is just as good as university-educated parents in terms of increasing education level.

And of course, if they’re organized like mine, they can be part of your decor, too.

Avoiding the Challenges

Monday, June 21st, 2010

The Week is such a great magazine that I even enjoy reading the obituaries.  In fact, many times I am saddened to realize I never knew of or appreciated the scientists, artists and politicians memorialized there before having read their obituaries.

One such example was last week’s issue, which spoke about Art Linkletter.  Apparently, I unknowingly stole borrowed the title of his book to use for one of my most popular tags, The Darndest Things (Three recent examples.)  Linkletter had a television show in which he interviewed children so that others could be amused by their hilarity and unconscious wisdom.

Here’s what I found interesting: how do you think Linkletter found kids that would consistently say interesting and funny things?  Easy.  He wrote to teachers and said, “Give me a few hours with the child you would most like to have out of your classroom.”

This is at once funny and sobering.  Oh, I hate thinking that I might be the teacher who doesn’t appreciate creativity unless it falls within prescribed parameters.  But I’m sure I would have willingly booted out some future TV stars if given the chance.