Well, hello August.

I can’t say I’m thrilled to see August because it’s sort of reminding me of all the summer that’s now past and how little I’ve been able to enjoy  a most fleeting time. I can count on one hand the number of farmers market trips I’ve made. Just yesterday I shook out my swimsuit from the drawer where it’s been buried and ignored. The sun goes down quicker, and with a more resigned feeling than just a few weeks ago. People are talking about returning to school. Somehow, August just feels different; it feels like a slow, warm denouement, like the last dance of a spirited, eloquent party full of flushed faces and sighs of ‘The next one will be just as much fun.’

But at the same time, August is abundance. Corn is everywhere. And the heat of July is making my tomato plants nearly burst with crimson globes of homegrown tomato glory. Like this…. in one day.

Yes, that’s one day of harvest. But those tomatoes need barely a thing on them save a dash of good sea salt and a few grinds of pepper to make their way eagerly to my mouth. My Rutgers and Bonny’s Guy plants are nearly 5 feet tall, and still loaded with potential. There are peppers galore hanging from the seven pepper plants and I am eagerly awaiting the ripening of the mysterious Italian Heirloom peppers of which I discovered late in the Spring. Four plants, fully adorned with long and cylindrical deep green peppers hold a bounty and so much more. I eye them, thinking of stuffing, or sauteing or simply slicing on a salad. I love the anticipation held within the tiny patch out my window.

The rain has been copious in Minnesota, and the resulting humidity oppressive, but what the rain has done is unavoidable. My tiny Japanese lilac bushes, which faded so fast after an untimely Mother’s Day frost, sprung back into a lush fragrant bloom in mid-July, bringing a welcome surprise amidst the waves of high summer heat. The Delphinium is on a second bloom too, and the yard has stayed a rich verdant green. I even find humor in the huge weed that’s formed in our neglected fire pit, it’s long stems sneaking up and over the walls, potentially snagging unsuspecting varmints. The toad population in my garden is copious. Mike even found a small frog clinging to our sunroom window one evening. Just about the same time, we discovered a tiny amphibian clinging to a baking pan in the midst of the kitchen at work. It was a moment of surprise, and likely shock for the poor little green creature, which I quickly captured and took outside to release in the grass. His legs were too miniscule anyway, as luck would have it.

This past week has been very simple around the house. The Teen is off an the adventure of his young lifetime, away in the mountains of West Virginia spreading his faith and employing his helping hands. He returns to our fold this weekend, and I’ve missed his smile. Mike and I have enjoyed some much-needed quiet time, and a reprieve from chauffeur duties. My schedule, and the last of the July heat has kept the cooking to a minimum. Good bread, some cheese and those wonderful tomatoes have really been all I crave anyway.

I did turn on the oven for one short burst of creativity when I came across this Chipotle Lime Roasted Peanut recipe on Susan’s site. I’ve been indulging in this delicious smoothie , utilizing the frozen blueberries from my yearly berry picking adventure, and upon seeing her quick and simple method for this spicy snack, I jumped into action. One food item that we always keep on hand for snacking is nuts. Our favorite is almonds, with pistachios and peanuts coming in close behind. I took Susan’s recipe one step further, using all three nuts when I made my version.

With the first nibble, I was hooked. The nuts aren’t spicy right away, but a bit of heat builds up in the back of your mouth as you crunch away, and a slight salty tang of  lime tangoes a little over your tongue. They’re utterly addictive. It’s a good thing I needed to run out to work soon after fixing up a batch of them, or I might have poured myself a cold drink, taken a book out to the patio along with a bowl of these nuts and settled in to satisfied munching. It would be nice of me to save some for Mike, don’t you think?

As I write this, my boy is somewhere on the road between our home and the Southeastern USA, traveling across four states with his student leadership group from our church for a week-long missions trip to an impoverished area in the southern part of West Virginia. The road trip will take two days before they arrive at their destination.

My boy has been away before, so this is nothing new, this being gone for a week at a time. He’s been spending part of the past 8 summers away, and he always enjoys it. He has to; he was never given the luxury of having a choice in the matter. Being an only child, he was pushed away from my side by necessity. I couldn’t hover, I couldn’t at all. He had to learn to play by himself, read by himself, entertain himself and sleep by himself. And he didn’t have the advantage of siblings to soften any landing that occurred in his life. He was the baby bird on the limb, Mama coaxing him out of the nest at a tender young age and for the most part, he’s done well with those landings. He’s comfortable being away from me, and this is a good thing. Because I know that when he’s ready to fly and really spreads his wings, that he will soar mightily. And I am thrilled and excited to see where this missions trip will take him, in his walk with his Faith, and in his life. He’s had it good, this boy of mine. A dose of reality that life isn’t always kind, that homes aren’t always luxurious and comfortable and that a meager way of life happens to even the kindest people. We all need that perspective shift sometimes to keep us grounded and real.

When I dropped him off with his group and drove off, I expected some jubilation. I expected a slight sigh of relief for a quiet house and no chauffeur duties in the week ahead, meals planned for Mike and I and no one texting me to bring home ice cream as I am getting off work. What I got was something completely unexpected. I was wracked with worry. Because for now, until the team lands at their final destination, I have no clue what’s happening and I have to put an enormous amount of faith in the process. He is in good hands, the team leaders are amazing adults, with soft hearts and strong spirits. He will be safe with them. But there is a long, long and open road that they are on, one that isn’t always so friendly. Or protective. Two vans, one large trailer, and a laughing, wonderful group of incredible young men and women all in high spirits for the adventure that awaits. The thought of anything disastrous happening to them haunts me. And surprises me too. I didn’t expect this feeling, but I don’t doubt it’s validity. That’s my boy. It’s a piece of my heart on that road between here and the South. If I wasn’t worried just a little, that in itself would be worrisome. So I trust, and I remember to breathe. And to pray for them all. Especially those behind the wheel.

And so the expected excitement of sending him off and a week with my spouse has been replaced with this Mama’s heart, and a need to comfort myself. With an abundance of fresh blueberries on hand, a warm muffin seemed perfect. But like this unexpected shift in my day, my favorite recipe was lacking in one very important ingredient and for a moment I actually felt like I had no energy to punt and see what happened. Most of my recipes are sort of like Hail Mary passes, or the punt that will win the game. I close my eyes, do what needs to get done and hope for the best. It’s like craving lemonade when faced with oranges, or planning the trip of a lifetime only to get diverted to a different destination.

Or like this particular morning, wanting bran muffins with fresh blueberries, and ending up with something more like oatmeal. It’s reaching for dried cherries to add some flavor, and dumping what was left of some crushed almonds into the batter to use them up. It meant adding some yogurt to regular milk to create a buttermilk-like tang. More importantly, it meant drowning out the recurring voice in my head that left me lost and empty. The task of making a simple muffin, with necessary improvising, took away the worry. And the result was both peace of mind, with a side of oh-so-very-delicious.

Kate’s Blueberry Bran Muffins

Heat oven to 425°. Prepare muffins tins with cooking spray, or liners.

Mix together in a large bowl:

1-1/2 c. All Bran Cereal
1/2 c. whole rolled oats
1-1/2 c. buttermilk
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 c. melted butter
1/4 c. olive oil
1/4 c. maple syrup

Allow mixture to sit for 10-15 minutes, until softened.

In a separate bowl, whisk together:

3/4 c. unbleached AP flour
3/4 c. whole wheat flour
2 T. ground flaxseed
1/4 c. brown sugar
1 t. baking soda
1 t. baking powder
1/2 t. sea salt

When bran mixture is soft, gently stir in the flour mixture only until just incorporated. At this point, add a cup of frozen blueberries and gently fold them in. Scoop into prepared muffin pans and bake for 20-25 minutes, or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pan for 10 minutes, then remove to wire cooling rack.

KATE’S NOTES: If you don’t have All Bran cereal on hand, you can use all oatmeal in the first step. Another option to use would be a commercial multi-grain hot cereal mix like Bobs Red Mill 7-Grain or 10-Grain for the All-Bran. I’ve done this both ways and the results are always delicious. The ground flaxseed is my addition. Leave it out if you don’t have it on hand. And you can use all white flour, or all wheat flour for these if you wish.

To sub for buttermilk, you can use the lemon juice/vinegar option (1 t. either juice or vinegar per 1 c. liquid, stir together then allow to sit for 10 minutes to curdle) or you can mix about 1/3 c. of plain or vanilla yogurt into 1-1/2 c. of plain milk, or even soy milk. I use soy milk, and love how the added yogurt gives it some extra moisture.

Some dried fruit is a nice addition to these; you can use apricots, cherries, figs, dates or prunes. Mince about a 1/2 c. of your preferred fruit and add it to the cereal mixture in the first step. The soaking in buttermilk softens it greatly, and it almost melts in the oven leaving tiny, tangy sweet pockets in your muffins. And adding in 1/3 to 1/2 c. of your choice of chopped nuts also makes for a fine addition.

I’ve been picking blueberries at John and Terry Cuddy’s Rush River Produce in Maiden Rock, WI for about 5 years now. And in doing so have encountered all sorts of weather on the chosen days that I make the long and gorgeous drive to their beautiful farm. Most days I am lucky to enjoy ample sunshine that dazzles through the trees along Wisconsin’s Interstate 35, a picturesque road that winds, dips and turns along the mighty Mississsippi River, before dumping itself into stunning Lake Pepin. The scenery along the way is one of the reasons I don’t mind the 75-minute trip, each way. I can’t imagine a more beautiful route to take in order to pick the Cuddy’s delicious and gorgeous berries.

But this year was the first year that I picked my standard two boxes full of fruit in the rain.

I really didn’t have much choice. It was either take the chance and go, or possibly miss out. I took a day off work, a Thursday, which is the first of the four-day weekend when the farm is open for picking. It’s also the best day to go since the bushes are usually bursting with fruit, all begging to be picked. But gray cloud cover greeted me when I woke up, and I thought my plans were dashed. But I looked over the radar, and spoke to John, who assured me that if I did indeed come to pick I would be amply rewarded with a bountiful harvest. Finally I decided ‘What the hell….’. I changed into some grubby clothes and hit the road.

The rain was so heavy around the Cottage Grove area, and further South that I really began to wonder just how crazy I was. But as if by magic, when I drove over the old steel lift bridge across the Mississippi into Prescott, WI, the rain just stopped. Just like that. The sky seemed to brighten just a little and my hopes lifted. I soldiered on.

Rain creates it’s own beauty that summons a unique kind of appreciation. Most people find rainy days to inspire little else but languid activity and relaxation. But driving through the cliffs around that area of Wisconsin, seeing the huge plumes of mist high above me that formed from the rain and the low clouds that scuttled across the sky, almost it seemed, right at the top of the towering hills, it gave me a sense of awe at how lovely the world can be even when it’s soaking wet. And in the midst of a lush July with plenty of rainfall, the area was so richly green that it felt like I’d been dropped in the middle of a rainforest. The Cuddy’s farm, with it’s extensive gardens and 9 acres of blueberry bushes atop a high cliff above Lake Pepin was stunning in it’s own right. Low clouds obscured some of the hills and the foliage was laden with water. It wasn’t long after I started picking that I too was soaked to the skin. Although it wasn’t really raining, a fine and constant mist filled the air. Bent low over the bushes, and only intent on filling my baskets with the bounty in front of me, I really paid no attention to how wet I was getting.

After several hours that seemed to pass very quickly, I had what I wanted.

The views at the mouth of Lake Pepin weren’t as stunning as I’d seen on previous trips, but it’s beauty can’t be denied even when clouded over and heavily misting.

The tiny towns along WI I-35 range from the unincorporated Diamond Bluff, to the 97 folks in Stockholm (with the most amazing kitchen supply store, The Palate, that I’ve seen in ages)  and, further down the road, the town of Pepin, coming in with a whopping 937 population, and home to the most famous Harbor View Cafe. Although I did not venture into Harbor View once in Pepin, I did manage to find a great sandwich and cup of coffee at Great River Cafe and Coffee Roasters. It satiated my hunger enough to get me back on the road, heading home with the sweet smell of blueberries filling my every pore.

The only downfall to picking the berries wet is that they’ll begin to break down much quicker, so utilizing my bounty was the first order of business. For the most part, I freeze the berries in baggies, mostly in 2-cup increments. This makes them perfect for any manner of muffin, pancake, smoothie, buckle or tart that I can dream up to create. And I make syrup too, because there’s just nothing better than a spoonful of fresh blueberry syrup. So now my freezer is full and the winter will be that much sweeter with the bounty available.

Rush River Produce- If you go, they are open for picking Thurs-Sun. 8AM-2PM but always call first to check on availability! Sometimes the crowds pick them out before the weekend is over. The Cuddy’s are superbly friendly and it’s a great adventure for kids and grown-ups alike. One of the best parts of my day in the rain was hearing the delightful shrieks of the kids around me as they hunted for their treasures.

And how about some great syrup to have for your pancakes, french toast and waffles?

Kate’s Fresh Blueberry Syrup

4 c. fresh blueberries, unwashed
1/2 c. water
2 T. cornstarch
1/4 c. honey

Stir all ingredients together in a heavy saucepan and bring to a boil, stirring occasionally. Reduce heat to a simmer and allow to thicken slightly, about 20-30 minutes. Allow to cool and store in the refrigerator.

No, that isn’t a misprint. I made guacamole on the grill.

See?

The idea came from The Minimalist’s 101 Grilling ideas column in the New York Times Dining section, and since we’re huge fans of Guacamole in this house, it wasn’t long before the desire to create it, and the assembled ingredients were ready for my initial attempt.

I’m no stranger to grilling onions or tomatoes. In previous summers, I’ve made a topping for bruschetta with grilled tomato and sweet onions that I’ve devoured shamelessly, and this summer for some reason, the desire for grilled onions on any number of dishes has been almost an obsession. I’m finding more and more to like about onions, whether they’re roasted, caramelized in a pan or like this, charred and slightly smoky from the grill.

There’s no technique to making this Guacamole at all. The key is mostly in preparing the items for the grill. Tomato and avocado should be ripe, but not too ripe due to the fact that they soften intensely on the grill. My avocados were more firm than I would have chosen for a standard preparation, but they worked beautifully in the intense heat of the grill. Carve them in half and remove the pit, then brush a little oil over them. Halve your tomatoes, and slice the onions into thick rounds so they are easy to handle. Give those a smear of oil too.  And be sure not to forget the limes! They become a sweeter version of their usual tart self from the heat of the flames.

Place all the items face down on the grill. And here’s where your personal preference will come in. Do you like a lightly toasted taste? Or do you prefer a nice grill-marked char? Do be careful about the tomato; if you overdo it, it will collapse into the fire. I prefer to put the tomato on the hottest part of the grill and watch it carefully until I notice the edges beginning to soften just a little, becoming dark where it touches the grill. I flip it over and let it cook for a few more minutes, then remove it to a pan to rest. The skin usually comes off.

For the rest of the items, leave them in place until they are nicely marked and beginning to soften. Turn the avocado over so the peel side is down on the grate and cook them until they become soft and compliant. Flip over the lime halves too so the rind is down, and watch for the pulp to almost collapse. At this point, you’re not going to get juice from the limes, but you will get a deliciously smoky lime pulp for your Guacamole that gives it that familiar and tangy ‘Zing!’ that only a good lime can offer. And those onions can be cooked to any degree you wish.

Once you’ve got all the grilling done, allow everything to cool off. Chop the tomato and onion, scoop out the avocado and squeeze the limes into a bowl. Do be cautious of the amount of lime you put in; remember that the pulp will become more intense from being heated, and you may not need as much as you think. Add in whatever seasonings you prefer.

There was no photo of the finished version of this Guacamole because, well…. Guacamole all mixed up isn’t exactly photogenic. It didn’t look any different than what you would make normally, but the flavor was stunning. Smoky and rich, it had depth that I wouldn’t have imagined Guacamole could have. Everything became sweeter, and deeply flavorful from the heat and flames of the grill. Our love for Guacamole was definitely enhanced by this version. It didn’t last long at all and I can’t wait to make it again.

I’m just going to come right out and share this with you…..

There’s no need to carefully weave description into this burger, no build up necessary. This was perfect in so many ways and really, I think you ought to give it a try. Especially if you have kids. Or if you like pizza. Definitely if you have both.

Piles of fresh summery herbs are what make this burger really speak to your tastebuds. Herbs are one of the easiest culinary options to grow, needing little more than a sunny window to place a nice pot in, filled with fragrant greenery. A snip here and there and your food soars to new heights. I’m a bit over the moon for thyme, have been for years. At the end of last summer I dug up my enormous thyme plant and brought it inside to enjoy throughout the winter. And lemon thyme is incredible for it’s fresh and lively scent, not to mention the kind of magic it can give to your everyday vegetable fare.

I have mentioned my busy work schedule this summer, and how it kind of chops into leisure time, especially when it comes to dinner. There are days that I am off work, however, where the very idea of cooking something makes me ill; it happens when you are constantly around food as I remember it well from when I was in culinary school, but there are also days where the very thought of making something for my guys is about the only thing I want to do. They’ve been awesome this summer in taking care of themselves at meal time, and the food that The Teen has put together on occasion have brought a proud twinge to this Mama’s heart. For me though, any chance to stand by the grill is enough to get my creative juices flowing.

This particular burger started out as a simple mix of ground turkey and sweet italian sausage. There was a little parsley in the fridge, thyme and oregano in the garden and basil in abundance. A bit of work with a sharp knife made for a delightful aromatic mess.

Of course, for a good pizza you need some sauce. I went with a jarred marinara for flavor,  versus using an actual pizza sauce. Both would work though. Grate some mozzarella into the mix, season with salt and pepper and make sure to use some good bread crumbs to help hold it all together. That sauce will make for a pretty loose mix. Gently blend it all with your hands, then shape them into patties and chill for at least a half hour before grilling. This helps to firm up the meat and make them less prone to shrinkage.

As I’ve said, anything to get me to the grill in the summertime. Those onions are a favorite grilled item. I buy Vidalias, or any sweet onion in season, cut them into thick slices and brush them with a little oil. Some time on the grill renders them tender and delicious. I also grilled off a red pepper for this burger too.

One thing about cooking this particular burger concoction; the sauce in the meat will burn if it gets too hot. It’s tough to find any kind of commercial marinara sauce that does not have sugar in it. It’s necessary in tomato products to cut the acidity, but it makes for flare-ups when matched with fire. Just keep your eye on the burgers as they cook and you should be fine.

We really loved the flavor in these patties. It was pizza, it was burger, it was summertime and sunshine and breezes through the windows, definitely worth it when a smile crept across my husband’s face and The Teen devoured his burger in record time. “I guess I was hungry.” in TeenSpeak often can be interpreted as “WHOA. That was REALLY good.”

Pizza Burgers
by Kate

Most ingredients are approximate. I rarely measure anything. For best results, start with less than you may think as you can always add more to make it the proper texture.

1 20-oz package ground turkey
1 24-oz package ground sweet italian sausage (You can use hot too, if you wish for more bite)
1 c. fresh chopped herbs of choice (I used thyme, parsley, oregano and basil in more or less equal quantities)
1 c. jarred marinara or pizza sauce
1 c. bread crumbs (I used Panko, but standard bread crumbs probably would have worked better)
1 c. shredded mozzarella cheese (for burgers I always use a low-moisture mozz… don’t use fresh. It won’t work)

Salt and pepper to taste.

Place ground turkey and sausage in a large bowl and using your hands, gently combine them. Add remaining ingredients and gently mix them into the meat. Adjust with more sauce if too dry, more bread crumbs if too loose. Add lots of cheese if it’s your thing too. Shape the mixture into patties and place on cooking sheet. Chill for at least a half hour if you can.

Grill or cook on the stovetop until properly done. Remaining burgers can be frozen, wrapped tightly in plastic for up to a month.

NOTE: If grilling your burgers, you can avoid having to use a separate tray or plate for carrying the finished burgers back into the house by lining your cooking sheet with tin foil. Place the raw burgers on the foil covered sheet and you can just strip the foil off when the burgers are moved to the grill, leaving a clean cooking sheet and no chance of contamination from the raw meat.

This summer is no usual summer for me. At least not like the past five or so years when the span between May and September often found me barefoot, my head in the breezes and most likely staring down a day with little to no agenda. No, my friends, this summer is much different. There won’t be any tan lines, probably no exhilarating rides around the lake atop a kneeboard and it’s quite possible that my swimsuit will stay tucked away in the drawer. Which is kind of sad- I really like that suit.

I’m working a lot- as expected, and surprisingly, when I’m deep in my work, and not partaking in the forays into summertime that are going on around me, I don’t find myself wistfully gazing off into space, my knife in hand, fighting off an emotional tugging at my heart over what I’m missing. The moment that white coat goes on and I pick up my knife case, heading up to the kitchen with an armload of towels, my hair twisted at the nape of my neck, the rest of the world falls away and my passion takes over. I don’t miss out on anything because I am right where I want to be. Often I catch a glance out the back door of the kitchen, when someone opens it to toss out the cardboard boxes, and I see the blue sky above the tree line, sometimes peppered with fleecy cloud, but there isn’t an urge to drop what I’m doing and step out into the warmth. In fact, when I do go outside at meal time and gaze off over the lake, I have a moment of appreciation for the glorious summer weather, but I shrug it off and head back inside to do what needs to get done.

And no one is more surprised by this than I am. I’ve discovered a great deal about myself in the past two months at this job. Where I used to think that I could never spend another summer indoors, chained to a time clock, slogging through task after task, what I never realized before is that when you’re deep in a profession that you feel you were created to do, the hours slip away and the rest of the world ceases to matter until the day is done. If I struggled before to get through my work day, it’s because I hated what I was doing. There was no passion involved in the work. I may have been skilled, capable and good at what I was doing for 8 hours a day, but my heart didn’t swell with anticipation each time I stepped up to the plate. I cared enough to do what needed to get done, but it never stirred me. Now I’m being stirred each day, loving what I do and eager to go above and beyond to get done what needs to get done. I’ve discovered what it means to truly, truly love your job. And I’m so grateful for that.

And summertime, the sweetest months in Minnesota, are moving past me at the usual rapid rate and really, I’m fine with it. Still, the time that I do have to enjoy the sunshine has been more sweet and appreciated, simply because I know that it’s limited and I need to get out there, even if it means just taking a walk through my garden. In there, the summer is in full swing, strong and vocal and clamoring to be heard. With being so busy, I find myself living much more in the moment than I have in a very long time. For there’s no fretting about the future these days, there’s no financial stress or concern about wearing ourselves out tugging so hard at life to make it’s ends meet. And while I do know that this will come to an end, I can’t think about that. There’s still so much ahead, so much to learn, to do and to experience and many, many more days of work before it’s time to stop, to rest and to re-focus. For now, it’s nice to just ‘be’

My favorite time in the garden has arrived- it’s Hollyhock time!!

Every year I allow the Hollyhocks to take free range over wherever they decide to grow and am always amply rewarded with towering stalks and gigantic buttons of eye-popping color. These deep red ones on the left are a standard, jutting out against the pale backdrop of the house, offering a rich haven for lazy droning Bumblebees. The lovely pale yellow also come up each year.

This year’s surprise color is this gorgeous pink.

Almost every season brings a new color, one that’s morphed from a previous plant. This pink is so stunning, light and delicate around the edges with deep magenta accents in the center and along a few petals. The first bloom of this took my breath away.

Another surprise color this year is this lovely salmon.

I’ve gotten full on pink flowers in previous years, but this one shows more orange, giving it a nicer and richer color than just plain pink. The stalk of these bloomed so profusely that it fell over after a few days, so thick with blossoms. That’s the one drawback of the Hollyhock. It collapses under the weight of it’s own beauty.

This super delicate pink comes up every year. The center is a lovely rose color.

Here’s another return visitor each summer. The golden petals are set off by a deeper pink center that almost looks orange.

A brighter yellow made an appearance this year too.

And on top of it being prime Hollyhock time, the Echinacea are in bloom

One variety of DayLily managed to bloom this year. The others set their buds, which then dried up. Mysterious, huh? This one of my favorite though. It’s so exotic and beautiful.

The very delicate and lacey Scabiosa have also started blooming.

These lovely flowers, waving from atop a thin but sturdy stem are wholly dependent on sunshine to unravel their frilly petals one at a time. One day I will look and see a few swollen buds, then over a few sunny days, the tiny petals unfurl like tentative sails until they are all gloriously open and blowing in the breeze. I have three Scabiosa plants that should have a variety of colors. So far, all that’s opened has been white, but the others are now blooming and I’m hoping to be pleasantly surprised soon.

The Bee Balm has opened it’s thin petals, much to the delight of the roaming Bumblebees.

The Phlox stands tall and proud with deep pink fists of color.

And rounding out the current events in the garden is the ever cheerful and sunny Coreopsis.

The funnest part about the Coreopsis is that the petals sort of resemble duck feet.

Summer is also speaking warmly from the vegetable patch, with tiny tomatoes and peppers, abundant Thyme and Oregano. The wily resident rabbit has been fenced out of foraging on my vegetable plants, and I still see him, gazing wistfully through the barrier at the bounty he can no longer destroy. I don’t mind if he wants to gobble up all the sunflower sprouts, but he won’t be making a salad bar out of my food, thank you.

And another loud exclamation of summer? A sunny morning, complete with fresh cherries in a homemade bowl on faded redwood steps.

I hope your summer is happily bending your ear with it’s tales of sunshine and play, that there’s glorious fruits and vegetables filling your lives and tummies. Any surprises at your end? Please share them so we can all find the joy in this exquisite and fleeting time.

It seems like this past year has put me in contact with a large number of very passionate people; people who love what they do whether it’s their chosen vocation, their family or a particular cause. Being around them is almost addictive. There’s a glow, a determination and a sense of joy in them when they discuss what they love, what drives them and makes them soar. I love seeing it, being around it and sharing in it as well. There’s plenty in my life that I feel strongly about, aspects of it that bring a deep sense of peace to me, that fill me with happiness. I bet you think I’m talking about food, don’t you? Well sort of, but it’s only one area of my life that I’m passionate about. My friend Missy, who writes the blog The Marketing Mama, is sharing her passion and asked for others to chime in and play along. I can’t imagine a better person to share a passionate and engaging conversation with; Missy is one of the amazing women I’ve been blessed to meet and connect with this past year through our blog networking group. She’s got a strong finger on the pulse of life around her, a smile to light up any room and a wicked sense of humor.

So, to join in on her expressions of all things we love and hold dear to us, allow me to share these simple aspects of my life that bring me an immense amount of joy and make my heart swell with gladness. I’m not one to climb to the rooftops to shout out what stirs my heart, and I’m not one to push a cause or a lifestyle or anything so subjective. For me, it’s the little things that make my life perfect.

Like Delphiniums.

This year, whether due to the copious rain that has drenched our area or just the maturity of the plants, these Delphinium that are growing in one of my garden beds have simply exploded with blooms. Deep blue and so beautifully shaped, the flowers are stunning and I just can’t get enough of their beauty. I love my flower gardens, and the way that Nature just works itself out in multitudes of color, shape, texture and time. There are days that I walk through my yard and am stunned by what’s going on, not to mention humbled that my hands did this kind of work. It isn’t much, but it’s mine. And it’s one way I can share a god-given gift with others.

Then there’s these guys.

Someday is entirely possible that I will qualify as a crazy cat lady. I am crazy about cats, and these two in particular. Eli, on the left, has been a godsend into our lives. Losing Harmon was the hardest time I’ve gone through in recent memory, and Eli came along just at the right moment, full of love to give and hungry to be loved back. Bustopher is happier with a friend, and our hearts are healing from our loss.

There’s Loveless too.

It’s a perfect sanctuary from the hectic pace of life and I do miss it with all the work I’ve been doing this summer, but recently I spent a blissful nothing type of day there, sitting on the screen porch watching the rain fall on the lake all day long. That may not sound like fun to most, but it was a much needed day off from work, and from life and I needed it like pure oxygen. It’s a place that lives in my very core, that I love beyond description and wish I could bring every single one of you there for a day just to see it and enjoy it.

I’m passionate about my family too, as any Mother would be. Watching my young man grow, mature, change and embrace the life he’s leading is a beautiful thing to see. He has some amazing roads ahead of him to explore and I can’t wait to see where his life’s journey takes him. He’s polite, kind, warm-hearted and generous. He’s funny, corny, silly and smart as a whip. And the boy LOVES his food.

Which brings me, rightly, to what I am most passionate about each waking day of my life. You knew we’d get there, didn’t you? It’s not hard to be passionate about food these days, with the Farmers Markets bursting full of the fresh bounty from the Earth. How can you NOT get excited about fresh strawberries?

Or a delightful poached egg over fresh baby zucchini sauteed with garlic scapes?

But it really goes beyond just the freshness and far beyond what time of year it is, as it’s much more about how your body feels when it’s nurtured with good food. There’s nothing more to it than that. What goes into our bodies has a huge effect on our well-being, our ability to learn at school or to do our jobs properly, to keep us sharp and focused so we can concentrate, to help our immune system be as strong as possible so we can stay healthy to enjoy our lives. I’ve seen enormous change in my own life from the foods that I eat, and notice immediately when I’ve been slipping away from the right path and eating too much junk. If there’s one area of my life that I could talk about all day long, it’s definitely food, diet, cooking and consumption. It’s my blood, my life and what God gave me to give to others.

So what are YOU passionate about?

Missy got a good response to her call about passion. See what my friends say about their own passions!

Missy

Kate-Madonna

Suzi

Cindy

Monika

Jenny

The culinary business is exacting, often meticulous and full of thinly veiled moments where too much time, heat, salt or seasoning could be the difference between a food that’s delightful, edible and sublime and one that is virtually unpalatable.

So there’s no reasonable way to say this…. my career path is full of perfectionists, raging perfectionists that take what they do very seriously and can swing from incredible highs to immense lows over the fate of any one dish they are preparing. We all grit our teeth at the tiniest of faults that means we’ve moved from making amazing food to something that’s just OK. Or worse, so ungodly bad that we need to start over. And I don’t necessarily look to the professional side of this coin when I say this either; read any of the food blogs out there, or the staggering amount of food memoir written and published each year and you begin to see, underneath the manic urge for a perfect chocolate chip cookie, the tearful disclaimers of one’s kitchen faults and foibles and the angst hidden among a food writers description of a much anticipated dish that went horribly wrong, and you see this trait unfold among even the most novice of home cooks. For some reason, we pick up a pan, scan a recipe and assemble our ingredients, and somewhere along the way we lose our ability to accept anything less than 100%. But this is a science, this cooking that we do, and it’s imperfect at best, and thoroughly fault-ridden, even at it’s finest. Nowhere will you find any activity that has the potential for so many things to go wrong.

And I know this personally. No more have I felt this sense of anxiety over what I do than in the past months at my job. I love what I do; I’m thrilled to be there in that kitchen, with the ingredients available to me and working with the talent that is there, but I’ve been puzzled and often driven to fits over the fact that I am filled with butterflies every single day when I drive into the parking lot. It seems to my exacting mind that I am but one slip away from being shown the door, from coming in one day and finding my locker cleaned out, my belongings in a box by the employee entrance, the chef silently shaking his head at me when I come to him, questions written all over my face. I hate that this has become a part of my day, especially when I feel so strongly that most of what I’ve done in the past four years has led me directly to this place.

And what it is, well that’s quite simple; I value where I am- this job, this place, with everything that I’ve got and I want to be good at what I do. This is a pretty fundamental human condition, and for me, it shares the double whammy with that exacting culinary standard. But it’s something else too; it’s the boost to my esteem that I needed on a much deeper level than I ever cared to admit. Something happens to us, to the very heart of who we are when the near relentless pursuit of employment leads nowhere but dead ends. When you’re told over and over “I’m sorry, but you’re not considered a candidate for this job.” It wears at you and erodes your will and drive. And as I discovered, it makes you feel like you’re losing your mind. Then one email changes all that and you land feet first and running hard into a job that feels more perfect than you could have hoped. It’s not just about a paycheck, and I don’t want to minimize how nice that feels, but I’ve discovered in the past few weeks that this job is more necessary to me than just the two pieces of paper it generates each month. At my very core, I needed this job to feel like I was still alive, still able to thrive, to do what I was created to do. I needed this job for me. For my soul.

Add on top of that a keen sense of perfectionism, and you’ve got a recipe -ha! puns!- for sky-high anxiety. Strangely enough, it was slightly more than four years ago, when I was in culinary school and working through a practice for our student competition, that the same chef who happens to be my boss right now told me in no uncertain terms that I was a perfectionist. He was right in front of me, I think even with a finger pointed directly at me as he said it too.  I got slightly bent out of shape at his remark, and he countered with asking me “Why would it make you angry if it was true?”

Problem was, I didn’t know it was true. His remark, a casual observation from an outsider, hit home and opened my eyes to something I desperately needed to see. It was the reason I pushed myself to do everything well, the impetus behind my almost obsessive attention to detail and the reason that I was so hard on myself when it wasn’t my absolute best. It was there, in that flourescent-lit kitchen that I first understood why my heart was driving me in this direction and that I had, in some small aspect anyway, a sense of what it took to be good in the culinary field. You’re not going to succeed without that drive, that desire to make everything the best that it can be. If you give a half-ass performance, you’ll get mediocre food. Period. And we all know that nobody cares about mediocre food. It was a barren, ’standing alone on a mountaintop’ moment at a time of my life when I was releasing from within me the very thing that I feel I was born to do, and I have never forgotten it. Had I never gone to work for this chef, or ever had another interaction with him, I would have gone to my grave thanking him for that, as odd as it may seem. Because once I did acknowledge that truth, it set me free. I stopped struggling and beating myself up when I made errors, and instead tried to let those mistakes guide me to become better, more focused and less critical. And to let go. I can’t be perfect all the time, and I shouldn’t expect that I can. Nor should anyone else. But in this business, with the work I am doing and the level of dining I help to prepare every day, I can allow for a bit of that perfectionism, and hope that my heart settles down from thinking that one mistake means the end of it all. It’s been hard though, to silence that insistent and percussive echo within the walls of my own mind. Nowhere am I in more trouble than lost in that dread of self-doubt, even if it’s only something that I myself manage to conjure up.

Just recently at work while I was meticulously picking apart Belgian Endive for garnishes, the grill cook wandered over, sighing heavily. I asked him if he was all right and he said something about messing up what he’d been working on. He told me what he had done and really, it was nowhere near as bad as he thought. I had to smile, and told him “That’s the perfectionist in you. We all have it, and it sucks sometimes.” He smiled, nodding, like the light went on in his head for the very first time. Then I saw his shoulders relax slightly, and he sighed heavily again. “Yeah, it does suck sometimes.”

Every day, I know it and feel it, and acknowledging that truth has helped me not only to be better at what I do, but to be kinder to myself on an off day. I know that the work I do each day is highly valued and appreciated, and I need to stop that voice in my head that keeps trying to convince me that I’m not good enough. No one is putting it there but me. And I realize that my anxiety isn’t so much stemming from being incapable of doing my work, but from stepping back into that dead zone of fear that comes from striving so hard for something that never seems to come. Four years ago I graduated from culinary school with a head full of dreams and an intense desire to do well in a profession I never expected to join. And I have days when I look around me, bewildered that I am even there. Am I in a dream?  The work we do each day is hard, physically hard and taxing on the body. I’ve never been so exhausted, yet so exhilarated at the same time. I ache in ways I never imagined, but at the same time, I have little memory of a time recent that I’ve felt so alive and vital. I love where I am, in life and profession. Something of this importance can justify a little anxiety, can’t it?

I often wonder whose idea it was to make Fish Tacos.

Fish. In a taco. That overloaded, cheese filled Tex-Mex staple. dripping with seasoned meat and shredded iceberg. At one point, someone thought to push a few pieces of fried and lightly seasoned mild fish into a flour tortilla and call it a meal. Now it’s everywhere and people just love them.

Problem is, they ARE everywhere, and often not done all that well. The fish is almost always fried, which yes, makes it crunchy and appealing and all, but certainly not very healthy. This is fish. It’s good for the body when done right. I’ve tried numerous offerings of fish tacos, eagerly anticipating the. one. that makes it all worthwhile. The epicenter of fish taco-ness that will make me swoon, and want to run home to my own kitchen to replicate.

Friends, it’s never happened. So I took matters into my own hands, in my own kitchen, and made them the way I wish they would always be made.

There’s just nothing to this meal. You need some perfectly ripe avocado, a plump tomato, some form of crunchy vegetable item such as gently seasoned cabbage to offset the tender fish and a simple can of black beans. Oh yes, and fish. I used tilapia but you could also use halibut or cod depending on availability.

And this is fish, which we all know from experience is on the Love-Hate scale in my house. Mike loves it, and Griffin hates it. Or at least he seems to think he hates it. Because this is new to him, in the past few years, this despising fish deal. When he was quite the young boy, in his adorable, always helpful/cheerful/talkative Can I hold your hand, Mom? stage, my boy simply LOVED fish. He denies it now, for certain, but it’s true. I would make fish for dinner and he would light up in the way only small adorable boys can and exclaim “Fish! Yum!” when he pulled out his chair to eat. It was always seared in a pan, never fried, and yes I did give him a blop of tartar sauce to push his fish through, but he would eat it all without one little complaint. How I long for those days.

He’s OK with it now; he’s stopped with the mega-fits when he knows it’s on the dinner menu, but will never ask for it like he does his beloved steak, and I do still keep tartar sauce on hand and allow for him to smear it on his fish as thick as he wishes. He will take the smallest piece possible to get by and eat it, almost holding his breath, only because it’s how we roll at dinnertime here. You eat what’s served or make your own.

Mild, flavorful and fresh beyond belief, these tacos were such a perfect summer meal. Simple too, which these days with my schedule and valued days off, I don’t want to be chained to any time consuming menus, making the few dinners I can put together at home. The weather was gorgeous, and after Mike and I trimmed some over-zealous bushes in our yard and then impulsively chopped a few large tree branches off, dinner was still on the table about a half an hour after we came inside. These fish tacos, with all the ease and flavor, were what I feel a good, healthy fish taco should be.

Fish Tacos
by Kate

1# tilapia filets
1/2 c. flour
1 T. each ground cumin, dry oregano and chili powder (for more convenience, use 3 T. prepared taco seasoning)

For serving: flour tortillas, diced avocado, diced tomato, shredded cabbage or romaine lettuce, drained and rinsed black beans, sour cream and salsa.

Heat a heavy skillet over medium high. Mix the flour and seasonings together. Adjust with salt and pepper if desired and dredge fish in mixture. When skillet is very hot, add a small amount of oil and quickly swirl to coat. Carefully place fish in pan and cook without moving for about 5 minutes. Turn over and cook other side until fish is done and flakes easily, about 5 minutes more. Cooking time is dependent on thickness of filets and will vary.

Top tortillas with hot fish and toppings as desired.

There’s nothing new about fresh strawberries and good shortcake. It’s a requisite of late Spring, when the red plump berries hit their stride and beckon from tables at the market, or on the grocer’s shelves. I can’t think of anything more perfect than a ripe strawberry.

Wait. Scratch that. I can think of something better. This shortcake, spread with honey-sweetened mascarpone cheese and topped with balsamic laced berries that hint slightly of brown sugar. I’m really somewhat of a purist at heart; I like simple preparations and fully believe that the food itself should shine from your dishes. That being said, even the simple and stupendous strawberry can be made so much more amazing if given a short amount of time in brown sugar and balsamic vinegar.

Just a splash of the vinegar is all you need. And really, only a small amount of sugar is necessary too. I like to let the berries tell me when enough is enough. Prepare them by removing the core, then place them in a bowl and sprinkle in about 2-3 tablespoons of brown sugar per pint of fruit. Add 1-2 teaspoons of good balsamic vinegar to the bowl. Stir to combine and allow it to sit at room temperature for an hour or so, stirring occasionally. See how much juice begins to form. If you like them a bit juicier, add a little more sugar. What you want as an end result is a berry that hints of both sweet and tart but doesn’t overpower your tastebuds with either. Make it slightly more interesting by adding just a touch of good sea salt. It’ll be a riot of flavor and turn your simple shortcake into a real treat.

Simple is good. Different is good. Try a batch for yourself and see what you think.