Sean of the South

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(photo courtesy of Jackie Thompson Reagan)

AKA Sean Dietrich.  One of my heroes.  I feel as if we are long lost cousins or I am his long lost aunt.  I consider him and his wife, Jamie, my dear friends although I have never met them.  We send messages.  I’ve begged Jamie for recipes and she has grudgingly given me a couple.  I’ve written about him before.  And here. I kind of accidentally stumbled across his writing a couple of years ago and I used him (with his permission) as a guest blogger. Sean gets to the heart of people. He champions the underdog. The people who aren’t glamorous, who live in trailers, who work two or three jobs just to provide (barely) a living for their kids. My people. Someone recently was ugly to him in the comment section after one of his Facebook posts. Seems the fellow did not believe what Sean had written. Sean’s rebuttal was priceless.  As were the faithful followers who called the jerk out. Me included. Sean is a writer (although he was told by a teacher once that he his writing would never amount to much- I am paraphrasing here), a musician, a dog-lover, a real human being. This article in an Alabama newspaper gave me more of an insight into his life. He routinely gives his books away for free on Amazon. I have been known to fuss at him for this. (And I have downloaded them… and bought a couple as well.)  He overtips waitresses. He admits to having a soft spot for them and if you read about his mom you will understand.  I fell for him when I read a column he wrote about women.  He did it again today, so I am sharing it. We are all beautiful in our own way. As a middle school teacher, I worry about girls and the pressure they are under to be perfect physically. There is no perfect. We all come in different shapes, sizes, and hair colors. How boring life would be if we all looked the same.  Thank you, Sean, for reminding me. Even at my age, I need it most days.

If you don’t fall in love with him, well, I am not sure you would like me much either.

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I’m sorry. That’s what I want to say to any woman reading this. I’m just flat-out sorry.

The world is trying to squash you like an albino cockroach, and you deserve an apology.

Today’s modern female is expected to be a walking-talking industrialized domestic machine.

If she’s not busy bathing toddlers, dropping kids at soccer, or changing her own transmission fluid, she’s supposed to be planning a three-course supper, scrubbing dirty underwear, learning a foreign language, or making her living room fit for HGTV.

She must be a certain size, weight, width, she must have a gym membership, a midsection stronger than most outboard motors, tight underarms, young-looking hands, perfect teeth, slender necks, soft-spoken voices, no gray hairs, no eye wrinkles, and the amiable disposition of Princess Grace of Monaco.

I’m even sorrier for young girls.

Not that it matters what I think, but I believe television and magazines are trying to ruin females.

Take a gander at the magazine racks in the Piggly Wiggly. Half-naked bodies on magazine covers. Pop-stars dressed like senators from Planet Krypton. Reality television hosts with plastic hindparts.

Anyway, the reason I am writing this is because of my friend’s daughter. Her name is not important. But let’s call her, Little Miss Alabama.

She is in seventh grade, top of her class. An athlete, a social butterfly, a horseback rider, fluent in Spanish, math wiz, funny, kindhearted, and well-loved.

Miss Alabama has dreams of attending Auburn University, she wants to study zoology, she is pretty, has brown hair, blue eyes, flawless health.

She has aided in the birth of exactly three colts. She can spit farther than any boy, and cook just as well as granny alive. I know this; I have eaten her biscuits.

And she hates herself.

Well, not her SELF, exactly. But she hates her body. She thinks she’s too fat, and she’s disgusted with her own reflection.

Well son of a biscuit.

Who told females they had to be USDA-approved and ninety-eight percent lean? Who in the H-E-Double-Cuss said beauty had anything to do with dress sizes?

Look, I have no right to talk about things I don’t understand. I’m not a woman—you might’ve noticed. But do I cry at “Steel Magnolias” so hard I have to pause it after Shelby’s funeral. And that counts for something.

And, I am a person, by God. I don’t like what people are doing to other people.

I don’t like underwear commercials. I don’t care for celebrities that People Magazine says I should care about.

And when I hear about my friend’s thirteen-year-old girl who believes herself to be—in her own words—“ugly, and fat,” it is an affront to my human-hood.

The voices on TV are too loud. They tell girls who they should be, what they should do, how they should think, what their den should look like, how their waistline should appear, what they should eat, and what they should feel.

There are too many voices talking to our women.

So here’s one more:

This world owes you an apology.

Jamie’s Pound Cake
makes 2 loaves or one bundt cake, but Jamie recommends the loaves
I have blogged about this cake before and made it a couple of times, playing around with the flavors each time. In the South, we sure do love our pound cake.
For the cake:
3 c. sugar (this time, I used 2 cups granulated white sugar and 1 cup Turbinado cane sugar)
8 oz. cream cheese, room temperature
3 sticks + 2 T. butter, room temperature (2 T. are for buttering the pans)
3 c. all purpose flour
3 large eggs, slightly beaten
1 t. each: vanilla extract (this go around, I used 1 tsp. vanilla extract, 1 tsp. coconut extract, 3 tsp. Praline Pecan Liqueur -sent to me by Ms. Tammy in Arizona who spoils me)
coconut extract
almond extract
brandy
sherry
For the glaze:
1 cup sugar
1/2 T. each: vanilla extract
coconut extract
1 t. each: brandy
sherry
Prepare 2 loaf pans by generously coating them with soft butter and then coating them with sugar.
In a large mixing bowl, cream together the sugar, butter and cream cheese.
Gradually alternate adding the flour and eggs, stopping to scrap down the bowl as needed. Mix just until blended.
Add the extracts and the wines until blended.
Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pans.
Place the pans in a cold oven and then set the oven to 300 degrees.  (I think my oven is a bit off so I set it to 325˚F for the first 40 minutes and then turned it down to 315˚F)
Bake for 1 hour and 10 minutes. (Sometimes mine need a little longer. However, you want this cake super moist–like a butter cake.)
Once you remove the cakes from the oven, let them cool in the pan on a wire rack.
In the meantime, melt one cup of sugar in half a cup of water in a pot on the stove. Once the sugar is melted, remove the pot from the heat and add the extracts and wines.
Spoon the glaze over the top of each cake–do not remove the cakes from their pans. Continue to let the cakes cool and absorb the glaze for a couple of hours before serving. ***This can be made in a bundt pan. However, you will need to invert the cake before adding the glaze. I feel that you do not get as much glaze absorption on a bundt cake as a loaf cake.

 

Bon appétit, y’all! Make a pound cake and take it to a friend.  Or make it and invite a friend over. Pound cake is a gift no matter what.  It has healed many a broken heart. Calories? Yes. Sugar? Yes. Moderation, people. A little pound cake once in a while never killed anyone. Thank you, Sean and Jamie!

Paris has to wait (for me)

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Finally.  The movie made it to Durham.  Arles Lucy and I went to see it a couple of nights ago. It was the second time for her. She was very tightlipped and gave me no hints about what was in store.  Impressive, AL!  And merci.  So, I will not go into the details.  But let’s just say that the story hit home.  No, I am not as drop-dead gorgeous as Diane Lane. My grandmother was not a Pentecostal preacher, although she was religious enough to have been one. My mom did not run off to Mexico to divorce my dad, even though she did threaten to join the Foreign Legion if her four brats did not stop arguing and fighting and start behaving. My dad was not a drama coach and taxi driver… he was a plumber and drove a truck.  I did ride around in that with him from time to time. When he was actually holding down a job. I did not declare my independence from my family at age 15 and run off to California. I did escape my hometown at the age of 18 and ran off to France at age 20. I didn’t stay gone long enough. Hindsight. Ms. Lane did come to North Carolina to film Nights in Rodanthe. She has kissed Richard Gere. Sadly, I have not. However, friends, I am saying right here and now and putting it in writing, that if a movie is ever made of my life, I want Diane to play me. Period. I’ve said that before and I still mean it. Should that not happen and should I be dead and gone, returning to another life, I will haunt you.  And I will haunt you in interesting ways.  Let’s leave it at that, shall we?

I loved every second of the film.  Arles Lucy has vowed to buy it as soon as it comes out. (You can pre-order it at Apple.) She will host a viewing party at her house so that she can stop it and I can translate the French tidbits.  I caught some of them the other night and translated a bit, but I, too, want to hear everything.  And see the Pont du Gard, picnic along the Rhône, drool over chocolate desserts, ride in a car through a lavender field. You get the idea. Oh, and don’t forget hang out with a handsome Frenchman who, it must be said, has un accent charmant when he speaks English. And, Arles Lucy, this thought just popped into my head… he calls her Brûlée, as in crème brûlée, as in burnt. You were once nicknamed The Woman on Fire by a Frenchman, if memory serves me properly. Just saying. I will leave it at that.

Here’s the trailer. Fall in love. Indulge in a little fantasy. It’s okay.  They do eventually make it to Paris, at night, when the Arc de Triomphe is all lit up and Mme Eiffel is sparkling.  Big sigh. Paris must wait for me.  My summer trip didn’t work out. She will still be there, waiting for me, when I do get there again.  Hopefully, in January, definitely in March.

Now I think I will go google Arnaud Viard.  Au revoir.

How about some chocolate tarts? I made these several times while living in Arles and working with Chef Érick.  The ganache recipe has come in handy many times over.

Hazelnut Sablée Crust and Chocolate Ganache Tarts

recipe from Érick Vedel and Madeleine Vedel

For the crust (makes enough for a dozen little tarts or a large single tart):

2 cups flour
1 cup toasted and ground nuts (hazelnuts, walnuts or pecans)
¼ lb plus 3 tablespoons sweet butter
1/3 cup sugar
pinch of salt
1 egg
1 tablespoon water (if necessary)

In a large mixing bowl, put in the flour and toasted, ground nuts, the sugar, the salt and the butter, cut in small pieces. Push up your sleeves, wash your hands, take off your rings, and with your fingers work the butter into the dry ingredients until you get a sandy texture that, if you squeeze a handful will hold together. Into this mixture, break your whole egg and work in the egg with your hands lightly, then, as needed, add a tablespoon of water, work the dough quickly together and pat it into a ball. Wrap it in plastic wrap and put it into the refrigerator to chill.
At a minimum 2 hours later, remove the dough from the fridge and put it onto a work surface. At this point, preheat your oven to 350F/160C. Sprinkle some flour on the work surface and start to knead your dough. Press it down and fold it over, press it and fold it, for about 2-5 minutes. You want it to start to hold together and no longer crumble apart too easily. When making tartlets, take a small amount of dough, roll it out and place it in the greased tart pan and press into the pan. Do not make the dough too thick. It works better for small ones, rather than one large one, as it is not easy to cut once cooled after cooking.
To preheat the crust, poke the crust with a fork multiple times, place into your preheated oven and bake just until it begins to brown, about 5-10 minutes. Cool before filling.

For the chocolate ganache:

300 grams (12 oz) superior quality dark chocolate
225 grams (9 oz) heavy cream
90 grams (4 oz) butter, cut in small pieces

Chop the chocolate into very small pieces. Put into bowl. In a saucepan, heat the cream to boiling point. Remove from heat and pour slowly over the chocolate. Stir gently until the chocolate melts, then add the bits of butter, one at a time, stirring gently and continually until the chocolate starts to thicken. Pour into the shells. Let cool before eating.

I love you, Arles Lucy!  Thank you for being my friend and indulging me in my love of all things French.  Let’s hit the road in a little décapotable and see France the right way!

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my lavendar

Bon appétit!  Fantasies are fun and good for the soul.  So are movies, music and chocolate. And amazing friends.  Indulge.

Summer Vacation Day 1: A porch with a view

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Well, Summer Vacation, the 2017 Edition, is officially underway. There is the minor detail of about 20 student comments that still have to be written, but I have until Monday at 5:00 pm. Hours and hours. At the last minute, I decided to book myself into a writer’s retreat. Remember, in the last post I said I have a new writing project. I also just needed to get away for a few days all by myself. I spend my days during the school year doing for others from 7:30 am until 5:15 pm Monday through Friday. And I am pretty worn out right now. I need some peace and quiet. And I have found it. Just a short distance off the Blue Ridge Parkway. Where I hear birds calling, hummingbird wings beating, and an occasional fish splashing around in the small pond just beyond the porch where I am rocking. The sun is starting to set. The clouds are taking on a pink hue.

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I imagine I will see a few lightening bugs soon. I will remember chasing after them as a little girl and trapping them in a mason jar with holes poked in the lid so that they could get some air. I am back in my hills.

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This is where I spent the first 22 years of my life, with the exception of a few months spent in France between my sophomore and junior years of college.

Friends/colleagues I’ve taught with here in Durham for many years are beginning to retire. Every year now someone significant will leave.  It began a couple of years ago. It won’t be easy for me. C’est la vie, n’est-ce pas?  JC this year. She will still coach and I will see her as often (or maybe more often) than I do now, but somehow the thought of opening meetings next fall without her make me sad.  Not for her, needless to say. She will find plenty to occupy her free time– sewing, exercising and traveling have been mentioned. All fine ideas. She and hubby are headed to France for two weeks in July. Bravo! They will have a blast. I am so proud and happy for them. Enough of that or I will make myself cry.

I roamed around for a short while this afternoon admiring the flowers in the small town I am near.

I found a little girl to sit next to.  I didn’t strike up a conversation because she was totally engrossed in her book. I thought of this same scene happening in a few years but with Miss K by my side. Joy. I hope she will love to read as much as her Gramma does.

reading

reading girl

Night has fallen.  It’s getting chilly.  The birds are now silent.  And I am getting sleepy. Day 1 has been a good one.  Tomorrow the writing begins in earnest.  Wish me sweet dreams and luck.

I am thinking of cherry scones.  It’s about time to find ripe juicy cherries in the local grocery stores.  I’ve missed them since last summer! I will go back to a past post for my favorite recipe to share. I recently found another recipe I want to try.  Crumpets. Reminded me of scones. But I digress…

From July 13 2011:

My new friend Teresa Lust (she isn’t in on the friendship yet) devoted a chapter of her book Pass The Polenta to the currant scones that a very good friend makes.  She can’t divulge the real recipe, only her approximation of it.  And, according to Teresa’s research, the scone is a Scottish invention.  Maybe that’s why I love them so much.  As good a reason as any, n’est-ce pas?  But it is difficult to go wrong with butter and cream.  And red juicy cherries.  I’ll try currants another day.

Currant Scones
(from Pass The Polenta and other writings from the kitchen by Teresa Lust, Random House, 1998)
makes 8 scones

2 c. all-purpose flour
3 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
3 Tbsp. sugar
6 Tbsp. butter, chilled, cut in pieces
1 c. heavy cream, chilled
1 c. currants (I used fresh cherries, pitted and chopped in quarters)
1 egg, lightly beaten

Preheat oven to 400˚F.  Combine flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt in a large bowl.  Add butter, then toss with your fingers to coat each piece with flour.  Work the mixture with your fingertips or a pastry cutter until it resembles coarse meal, with a few pea-sized lumps of butter still remaining.  Drizzle in the cream, stirring the mixture with a fork, until it just comes together.  Alternatively, combine the dry ingredients in the work bowl of a food processor, add the butter, and process with quick pulses until it is just incorporated.  Add the cream in a thin stream, and pulse only until the mixture starts coming together.  Do not over-process.  Turn dough out onto a cutting board, sprinkle in the currants, and knead lightly half a dozen times or so, until the dough forms a ball.  (I had to add about 1/4 c. more flour because the dough was very sticky.  Sprinkle the cutting board with flour, as well as your hands, before diving into the dough.)  Pat the dough into a circle 3/4-inch high.  Dip a pastry brush into the lightly beaten egg and baste the dough-circle.  Cut into 8 wedges.  Transfer to a baking sheet and bake 12-15 minutes, or until golden brown.

Bon appétit and happy summer vacation to all!  Bonnes vacances!  May you find a quiet spot to rest and regroup.

 

The end is in sight

macaron and tex

It is the eve of my exam.  Wonder how much the kiddos have studied?  Foreign language exams are last this year… the only thing standing between my students and 10 weeks of freedom is me.  And pages of verbs, adjectives, object pronouns, etc.  You get the picture. Hope you aren’t having flashbacks.  We still have practice for the closing ceremony for the 8th graders followed by lunch tomorrow.  The ceremony is on Thursday. A couple of days of meetings for the weary teachers.  Exams to grade.  Grades to enter into Veracross.  Progress reports to write.  Then freedom for me.

Today I received the beautiful plate of homemade pink macarons from my room parent. One of the 8th grade girlies gave me the armadillo.  I use a website, Tex’s French Grammar, put together by the University of Texas-Austin. The main character is Tex, an existentialist poet who just happens to be an armadillo.

char_tex

Yes, he smokes.  No, I do not approve.  Yes, he indulges in a glass of red wine from time to time.  The kiddos know that they cannot do this legally until they are 21. The grammar explanations are great.  The kiddos love to listen to the voices, especially Joe-Bob, the squirrel from College Station.

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I am partial to Paw-Paw, Tex’s Cajun granddad.

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I really want to go to Austin and meet the geniuses who created this website.  And now I have a little stuffed Tex to keep me company in my classroom.  Merci, EM!

I will make a trip up to the mountains to visit the relatives and hopefully see a few friends from the Class of ’76.

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Last year, before our reunion, some of us got together at Spoon, a great little place on Upper Street.  It’s the craft cocktail slingin’ counterpart to knife & fork restaurant, to quote the website.  Knife & Fork is on Lower Street, by the way.

beach

We will have our annual family week at Sunset Beach.  We all really look forward to a week when the most important decision we make is who will go back to the house to refill the cooler and make sandwiches for lunch.  Guess it was my turn that day since my chair is empty?

I have a few projects to accomplish around the house.  Organizing the notecards that I have made from my photos, go through bookcases to see if there are some books I can give away, clean out my closet.  You get the idea.  I also plan to write.  I have a new idea.  I’ve taken some notes and have the beginning of an outline.  That’s all I have to say at the moment.

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The BFF and I have pledged to get up early and walk before she has to go to work and before it is too damn hot and humid to do much besides sweat.  I am thinking 6 am, but I am an early riser.  We’ll see what the BFF thinks.

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I plan to hear some music.  There are several spots around town where the concerts are free.  We went out to Southpoint Mall last weekend to hear Big Time.  Mr. BFF is in the band.  A talented fellow.  I can’t help myself when he is singing Love Shack or Give It to Me Baby.  Just got to dance.  And attempt to embarrass him.  Not possible, but I won’t give up!  Mr. BFF, Tracy King aka Sweet T, was a member of The Castaways back in the day.  I can’t help but post this photo… (top row right)

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Last, but by no means least, I will play Gramma and spend more time with the Most Amazing Girl.  She is already 3-1/2 months old.  I cannot wait. Bonding time. Oui, elle est belle!

kennedyJune

Today’s recipe, just in time for summer so that you don’t heat up the house by using the oven.

chicken salad

Chicken Salad

adapted from Inside Brucrew Life

Shredded chicken from 1 rotisserie chicken

1-1/2 c. finely chopped pecans or almond slivers (I toast them to bring out the flavor)

3 stalks celery, chopped

4 c. halved red seedless grapes

Salt and pepper, to taste, if desired

1 c. sour cream

1 c. mayonnaise (today I used a mixture of Duke’s mayo and Just Mayo Chipotle flavor)

I c. finely chopped fresh dill, if desired (I left this out)

In a large bowl, toss together the chicken, nuts, celery, and grapes.  Sprinkle with salt and pepper, if desired.

Whisk together the sour cream and mayonnaise.  Add the dressing to the chicken mixture and gently toss to coat.

Cover and refrigerate.  It’s best if allowed to chill for 2 hours so that the flavors can meld.

Bon appétit and happy summer to all.  Bonnes vacances!  Be sure to slow down a bit, if possible, and smell the flowers.  Gardenias are presently blooming in my corner of the world.  Heavenly.

gardenia

 

 

Reflections

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It is almost time to say Au revoir to 2016.  And Bonjour to 2017.  2016 had some tough days.  In life, though, that’s pretty much par for the course, n’est-ce pas?  That’s when we learn valuable lessons.  It’s when we learn to appreciate the whos and whats in our lives.  If we are smart.  And then we move on.  The sun comes up the next morning.  Sometimes it is difficult, if not downright nearly impossible, to let go of hurt feelings, guilt, anger, disappointment, fear– all of those emotions that can bring on a middle-of-the-night panic attack if we aren’t careful.  I know.  I’ve been there done that.  Learning to take deep breaths, forgiving myself as well as those I love, and remembering what is truly important takes practice.

Why is that those who know their days on earth are numbered teach us the best lessons? I hate to break it to you, but all of our days are numbered.  Somehow, though, those who live with it daily are the wisest. Chris Rosati.  The lessons I have learned from him.  Chris has ALS.  Lou Gehrig’s disease.  Tuesdays with Morrie. Since his diagnosis six years ago, he has taught so many of us how to be kinder human beings.  I saw Chris last night at The BIGG Holiday Mashup in downtown Durham.

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He was able to put in an appearance at the end of the show.  Dressed as Santa, in his wheelchair, speaking through a computer that is somehow miraculously connected to his eyes and types out his messages.  Many of his high school friends and classmates were in attendance so it ended up being a big wonderful funny class reunion-type event for me.  I taught so many of these “kids.” See, Chris, see what you are doing?  Bringing all of us together for the Big Idea for the Greater Good.  A lesson I promise to put into practice in 2017.

So, instead of reflecting backwards, I will reflect forwards.  Think of the all the potential that awaits us in 2017.  The BFF doesn’t like odd-numbered years, but I have assured her that the coming one will be filled with Goodness.  Kindness.  Pure joy.  Hmmm…. How do I know this?  Because I am in charge of how good, kind and joyous I will be.  And so are you. There are indeed many, many things that we cannot in any way, shape or form control.  Why focus on those?  Instead, let’s focus on what we can control.  Our own attitudes.  Our own behavior.  Terrorists will not keep me from traveling to my beloved France.  The political leadership in my own beloved state and country will not keep me from hoping that good will come from this somehow.  Because we can band together and “kill them with kindness” as Mama Mildred has been known to say.

My 2017 will include the following:

  • Kennedy’s birth.  My first grandbaby.  I already get teary-eyed just thinking about her.
  • Finding new ways to show kindness and helping others do the same.
  • Spending more time with my family, be they in Charlotte, Spruce Pine, Washington, Brevard, High Point or here in Durham.  I am incredibly lucky. My sons, a soon-to-be daughter-in-law, mama, sisters, in-laws, cousins all close by.
  • At least two trips to France.  January (20 days) and March (76 days).  Ah oui, I do indeed count it down.  Every time I board the plane it feels like the first time.
  • Showing my friends how much I love them.  I am lucky in this respect, too.  I have some amazing friends who love me no matter what.
  • Joie de vivre.  I am very fond of this French phrase.  Love of life.  Joy in living.  Ed the Head, used it in 2013 to describe me when he presented me with the Hershey Award. I laughed with him afterwards as I complimented his French pronunciation.  I vow here and now to show this joie much more often.
  • Self-improvement.  At home.  In the classroom with the kiddos and my colleagues. With me.  More walks, more quiet time, good books, good music, good food, more writing.

A good place to start.  And I think I will get a week’s head start on some of those.  Pourquoi pas?

I will leave you with a recipe to make immediately (or as soon as you can assemble the ingredients) and share as gifts and/or make for the family and friends who will come a-calling.  A big bowl of deliciousness.  I fell in love with them the first time I tasted them at a foreign language meeting.  Our Latin teacher is quite a cooker.  She shared the recipe.  Merci beaucoup, JL.

rosemary-pecans

Rosemary Pecans

1 pound unsalted pecans

2 Tbsp. coarsely chopped fresh rosemary or 1 tsp. dried

2 Tbsp. melted butter

2 tsp. brown sugar

1 tsp. kosher salt

1/2 tsp. cayenne or black pepper

Preheat oven to 350˚F.

Spread nuts on baking sheet (I line mine with parchment paper.)  Bake 10-15 minutes- 15 minutes for crunchier nuts.

While the pecans are baking, combine all the other ingredients in a large bowl and mix together.  Add pecans while still hot and toss to coat.

Serve warm or cold.  Store in tightly closed container.

Bon appétit to all and to all a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.  Here’s to 2017!

97 and 41

A post from the past entitled 94 and 47 popped up on my Facebook page yesterday.  It was from 2013.  At first, I couldn’t figure out what the title meant.

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Then, looking at the smiling faces of La Blonde et La Brune, it dawned on me.  The countdown until my 2014 trips to France!  I posted the countdown until my 2017 trips on my classroom whiteboard at about 10:00 yesterday morning.  Coincidence?  Non!  I don’t believe in them.  It’s just where my mind goes at this time of year.

In French 8, we are studying food vocabulary.  A couple of days ago, I posted the following activity for the kiddos in the class Evernote notebook:

C’est jeudi 1er décembre. Tu es maintenant à Paris. Tu as vraiment faim et il est midi et demi.  Regarde ce plan de Paris et dis-moi où tu es.  Tu es tout(e) seul(e) ou tu es avec un(e) ami(e)?
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Qu’est-ce que tu viens de faire?  Visiter le Louvre?  Faire du shopping?  Visiter le Panthéon?  La Tour Eiffel?  Trouve un café ou un restaurant près de cet endroit sur le site TripAdvisor. (Refine your search by scrolling down and choosing a neighborhood near where you are.)
 
Tu veux dépenser 35 euros ou moins pour un repas français traditionnel. 
Réponds aux questions suivantes. 
  • Comment s’appelle le restaurant?
  • Où est-ce? La rive droite ou la rive gauche?  L’arrondissement? L’adresse? 
  • Il y a un site internet?
  • Il y a un menu du jour?
  • Choisis une entrée:
  • Choisis un plat:
  • Choisis un dessert:
  • Et comme boisson?
  • Quand tu as fini, tu as aimé le repas?  Pourquoi ou pourquoi pas?
  • C’est combien l’addition?
  • Le service est compris?
  • Write a short review for TripAdvisor (Look at their form, but do not write it on the site- write it below-  en anglais:

I told them that they are helping me plan my January trip to Paris.  I am always looking for new cafés and restaurants.  It’s a short trip, only 6 days– oui, that’s a short trip in my book.  But, hey, I will go for only a weekend if someone offers me the opportunity. Passport always ready, bags packed. Especially now that Delta has a direct flight from Raleigh-Durham to Paris-Charles de Gaulle.

I have already made plans for one night while I am there.  I have signed up for a food tour of the Marais with La Cuisine Paris.  From their website:

Join us on a Marais Soirée as we immerse ourselves in a typically French experience: l’apéro! Take a sip and a bite of French culture as we enjoy the sociable pre-dinner hours that are such an important part of Paris life. With a glass in your hand and a tempting array of all things delicious, you’ll soon see why the term apéro is a fitting one: derived from the Latin word aperire “to open,” we’ll be doing just that – opening up our appetites and starting an evening in Paris – santé!

Right up my alley, n’est-ce pas?

The January trip is mostly paid for by ACIS, the student travel company I use. They invite teachers who have tours booked with them to spend a long weekend in one of several spots.  I always choose Paris during the MLK, Jr. weekend.  I asked my middle school director for a couple of extra days.  I plan activities for the March student trip.  Really.  I do.  This, mes amis, is professional development for me.  And therapy as well.  I’ve booked a little hotel in the Quartier latin for two nights, near the RER-métro station that will take me directly back to the airport the morning I depart.  The ACIS hotel will be out of my budget range, I fear, so I will move after three nights.  I got the idea for this neighborhood from a friend who is going over for Christmas with her daughters. It will be their first Christmas without dad/husband who passed away this summer.  She found an AirBnB apartment in a great neighborhood and then we discovered it is near an RER B-métro stop so they can easily take the train into the city from the airport.  I sent them my Paris cheat sheet, as I like to call it.  I’ve been compiling a list of my favorites.  If you are planning a trip and are interested, just let me know and I will post it or email it directly to you.

So, for the next 42 days I will daydream and plan a few things that I want to do/see.  ACIS will have activities planned for us.  For the recap last year’s trip, read  ACIS and Paris 2016- Exceptional.  J’ai vraiment de la chance.  

Mon amie Mme M sent me a link to this video yesterday.  She knows that I am on a Spread the Kindness kick.  I showed it to my classes.  It is from francetvzoom.  I can only get it to play in U.S. on Facebook…

https://www.facebook.com/plugins/video.php?href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Ffrancetvzoom%2Fvideos%2F698407930317996%2F&show_text=0&width=560

As we prepare for the March trip, I always read David Sedaris’ story about the métro to my 8th graders in an attempt to make them realize that we need to learn to be less loud while roaming around France.  And to make them laugh, of course. It’s from his book Me Talk Pretty One Day.  I love that man.  Listen to David tell it–

From my classroom, thanks to the grand-mère of one of last year’s students–

paris-painting

Bon appétit!  Here’s to Paris daydreaming and planning trips!  That’s what keeps me going some days!  Happy Friday and Bonjour, Décembre!

“News is bad for you”

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photo credit:  Amanda Whitlock

“And giving up reading it will make you happier.”  The Guardian

I admit to being semi-addicted to Facebook.  I get up every morning, make my hot lemon tea water, start the coffee brewing, and open up the computer.  My day just doesn’t seem to start off right without reading Sean Dietrich‘s daily post.  I get up an hour earlier than I really need to so that I can have that cup of hot water, check emails and get all the morning news I need via emails from friends and Sean.  With a healthy dose of food porn, cute photos like the one above of Steve, a New Zealand cat, and his herd of lambs. Or this one of Major, the Durham bull, dressed as the Durham Academy Cavalier.

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photo credit:  Melody Butts, with help from Tim McKenna and Leslie King

But this past Monday night, thanks to Son #1 and the thought that I should be a better informed Américaine, I watched the first presidential debate.  Huge, major, God-awful mistake on my part.  I even sat with my trusty laptop on my lap following fact-checkers. Instead of looking at cat photos. Before the debate, Son #1 hooked up the Apple TV and brought up HBO’s Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, a show he is addicted to and has been nagging me to watch for a couple of months.  (This, my friends, is a great way to get the top news stories of the week and laugh at the same time.  Don’t watch it, though, if you object to cursing.  It is HBO after all and they say whatever they want to for those willing to pay less than Time Warner charges for cable and the ridiculous stuff on nightly primetime TV.)  Anyway, I should NEVER have watched that debate.  I should have respected my usual early bedtime (which allows me that extra hour to goof off in the morning) and called it a night.  Let’s just say that because I decided to stay up until 10:45 pm and be “better informed” my week did not start well.  Tuesday morning found me uncharacteristically grouchy.  A 9 on a scale of 0-10.  I am sure that my colleagues at the 7:25 am team meeting noticed.  I know that my advisees did because I walked away from our morning circle time.  They couldn’t come up with answers to whatever my question-of-the-day was and I didn’t feel up to cajoling them.  So I walked away without a word.  Took attendance instead.  All day long I just could not shake the “Our country is going to hell in a hand basket” feeling that had settled over me.  I posted on my FB page:

Trying to find calm this morning. I cannot control or fix the things I am most concerned about. I will not watch any more political debates or ads on TV. I do not want to discuss it either. Deep breaths.

Bless all of my friends who then commenced to worrying about me.  Iron Woman, my dear friend who loves France almost as much as I do and may have been Jeanne d’Arc in another life, brought me a Chai latte.  (She knows my weaknesses.)  We went to dinner on Tuesday and I was beginning to feel a bit better about the world after a dish of house made pasta at The Boot and a glass of Pinot Grigio.  Mostly it was the conversation and the chance to laugh with this dear girl.  We both desperately want to have our DNA tested and find out if we are any percentage French.

mont-saint-michel

Mont Saint Michel 2012

Another friend brought me an apple fritter– a sinfully delicious pastry with cinnamon and apples.  I didn’t even take a photo of it.  But I did manage to make it last for three days and I savored every crumb.

One other friend sent a private message to ask me if I am okay.  I answered back that I am, but that I have sworn off politics and debates.  I will vote.  I will volunteer to get folks here in Durham registered to vote, but other than that, I am done.  What will happen will happen, n’est-ce pas?  It is what it is.  C’est comme ça.

By Wednesday, I was less grouchy, maybe a 6 on the grouchy scale.  I had plans to go to a wine dinner at Pompieri Pizza with Arles Lucy.  We love the special dinners at PP and Bull City Burger and Brewery.

st-emilion

St. Emilion 2008

I have to admit, however, that I didn’t really feel up to it.  I thought about texting Arles Lucy (on the left above) and asking her to find a replacement to go with her.  I am so incredibly glad I didn’t.  You know how sometimes you don’t think that you are going to have fun at a party or whatever and you have an amazing time.  The San Marzano Wine Dinner was exactly what I needed.  Great food, great wine, even greater company.  Before I begin with the feast, I have to say that I know that I am a very lucky eater.  I am constantly amazed by how lucky I am.  And very grateful.

menu

To quote directly from the menu:

POMPIERI PIZZA welcomes Cantine San Marzano and special guest Salvatore Ricciardi, vineyard owner and sales and marketing manager for San Marzano winery. In 1962, nineteen vine growers from San Marzano, whose families had farmed the land for generations, combined their efforts to establish “Cantine San Marzano.” The winery is located in Apulia, in the heart of the acclaimed d.o.p. “Primitivo di Manduira” area.  This strip of land between two seas, the Ionian and the Adriatic, in the province of Taranto and Brindisi,  is where vines and olive trees flourish side by side on the red soil surface, much like North Carolina’s red clay.

sal-and-seth2

  1. Amuse-bouche

beet

Beet Cube with Jalapeño, House Made Honey Mascarpone and Monte Iblei Olive Oil  Frizzante Lambrusco

A certain someone sitting directly across from me was heard to say that she could easily eat seven of these.

And Seth, owner and punster, said “You can’t beat that first course.” hahaha

2. Anti Pasta

kale

Persimmons and Apples with Aged Cheese, Kale Salad  2014 San Marzano Savignon-Malvasia “Il Pumo” Salento IGP

3. Pasta

ravioli

Fall Butternut Squash Ravioli Pillow with Lemon Ash, Tiny Farm Arugula, and Salted Pecans in a Butternut Broth  2014 San Marzano Negroamaro “Il Pumo” Salento IGP

(Negroamaro means black and black- in Latin and Greek  Merci, Salvatore!)

I did not lick the bowl clean, but I thought about it…

soup-gone

4. Fish

tuna

tomato

NC Coastline Caught Yellow Fin Tuna with a Fennel Crust, Smoked Pedach Jam, Roasted Tomato and Charred Carrot Ragú  2013 San Marzano Primitivo “Il Pumo” Salento IGP

5. Meat

lamb

Local Leg of Lamb with a Rich Red BBQ Sauce, Roasted Garlic and Rosemary Potatoes, and Mustard Greens   2013 San Marzano Primitivo di Manduria “Talò” DOP

There was another wine sampled served after this one.  A special anniversary wine?  A different vintage?  The details totally escape me at the moment.  It was an extra treat.  Grazie, Seth and Salvatore!

6. Dessert

dessert

Zeppole (fried dough) with Goat Cheese Granita  Americano Cocktail

As I was served my dessert, I was told that I got the one with the most chocolate.  I am special that way.

sal-me-jinn

I had fun sitting next to Salvatore.  Quite the charming, handsome Italian.  He told his daughter that Seth had closed the restaurant early because a celebrity was coming.  She texted back calling him the Italian Justin Bieber.  (We had to explain who that is.)  Jin served the wine impeccably.

Salvatore made the rounds and addressed the group, explaining his wines and the growing region.

sal-and-jill

“Easy to drink.  Respect the characteristic of the grape.”

When we started trying to figure out which wine we liked the best and why (Do I really have to choose??), Salvatore said “When you can’t describe it, it’s love.”

I loved every bite and sip.  I also loved meeting Heather and Jill from Habitat for Humanity, who sat across from Arles Lucy and me.

heather-and-jill

I love my BFF for being herself as well as a great server.  Doesn’t she look beautiful in her Villeneuve-lez-Avignon market ruffles?  I love Arles Lucy for always making me laugh and for always being up for an adventure.  We’ve had some great ones.

yo-and-mpk

What a delicious night.  Thank you, Seth and Chef Jeff (sadly no photo of him- we haven’t even been properly introduced yet.)

I solemnly swear to stay away from the news and to stick to uplifting activities involving my friends and family.  And good food, bien sûr.

flowers

Bon appétit to all cookers, eaters, and wine makers!  

 

The BFF Hometown Tour

 

with Helen

I would love to say that I will make  Hometown Tour a regular feature of The Sabbatical Chef, but, well, I think that it would go the way of most of my best of intentions.  As Mama Mildred has said to me more than once “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.” Is that a Bible verse?  Who knows?  (Mama Mildred probably does but since she is at Sunday School right this minute I can’t ask her.)

Back to my story.  We are often asked if we are sisters.  Did we always look alike?  I don’t think so.  But as they say about old married couples and people and their dogs, we have spent so much time together that it has happened over the years.

I met my BFF almost exactly 25 years ago.  OMG.  It’s our Silver Anniversary.  I just realized that.  Our oldest sons found each other on the first day of preschool.  Then she had another and then we both had one more who are the same age.  Here’s the gang in 2009.

goofy boys

Our own basketball team.  They have all graduated from college now.  Praise the Lord.

Here’s some scientific research about friends.

friends have genetic sim

“Our” psychic told us that we were siblings in another life.  We like that idea so much that we believe it. Wholeheartedly.

We have had some adventures and plenty of fun.  France, Italy, Sunset Beach, all around Durham, and Lexington, NC, her hometown.  I’ve been several times.  I even took Sister Moo there a couple of summers ago to spend a week at High Rock Lake.  The BFF introduced to me to both Lexington and The Lake.  She was born and grew up in Lexington and her family had a house at High Rock.  I never had the chance to meet her dad.  He died when she was pregnant with her first son.  I did get to know her mom.  She is pictured between the two of us above during a Second Wedding Dinner at Sunset Beach in 2009 when the Ex-Ex and I renewed our vows.  Helen and I hit it off immediately the first time we met.  I loved her.  (Don’t mean to make you cry, BFF.  Sorry.)  Her brother was quite a character as well.  Same party.  He was the master of Frogmore Stew. (Head over to the old blog for the recipe and a couple of stories.)

with Ben

Mom and Bro are up in heaven smiling down on the BFF right this very minute.

Just a couple of weeks ago, the BFF had to go to Lexington for a meeting so she invited me to go along.  Just for a day and night.

overnight bag

Lexington is in the piedmont section of North Carolina, a short detour off I-40/I-85, near Greensboro and High Point.

lexington map

http://www.city-data.com

It is famous for honest-to-God REAL barbecue and Richard Childress, of NASCAR fame.  It used to be known around the world for its furniture businesses.  Unfortunately, most of them went the way of most of our businesses in North Carolina– somewhere else. Downtown Lexington is the way downtowns used to be and I wish they still were.  Malls took care of that, though.

The BFF and I got to town early so we went driving around and that’s when I got the idea for this post.  We cruised past her childhood home.

MPK house

The football stadium where she went to high school (she still cannot tell me why if their mascot is a yellow jacket their school colors are purple and orange… have you ever seen a purple YELLOW jacket?)  She was a champion tennis player, BTW.

stadium

We saw where her family’s business used to be and some of the old factories.  The train ran right behind the factories, of course.

She told me how much she loved this little spot.  Who wouldn’t growing up in a small town? I bet she asked her daddy to drive through this and honk the horn more than once.

bridge

Mo, the BFF’s hometown BFF, took me on a walking tour in town while the meeting took place.

paris

Oops.  She’s not in this picture taken in Paris in 2012.  She was taking the picture.  **Editorial note from the BFF:  Mo did not take the picture.  She had to miss the trip because her daddy was sick.  That was wishful thinking on my part.  Summer of 2017??

The BFF and I make cute bookends, n’est-ce pas?

Here is a photo of Mo recently taken at her son’s wedding.  (lifted from her FB page- thanks to whoever took it!)

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Mo knows everyone in town.  She is a physical therapist with magic hands. Or at least so I have heard from people in North Carolina and the South of France…

In Lexington, they love their pigs.  This is the kingdom of pork barbecue, people. Pig sculptures are everywhere.

back to school pig

Conrad and Hinkle is an old-fashioned grocery store– real butchers even.  They sell local produce and products, the best of which, in my humble opinion (and Sister Moo’s) is their pimiento cheese.  It was featured on NPR in 2007 and they (gasp) gave out the recipe.

conrad hinkle

I got a sample.  (And a container to bring home.)

PC sample

Bull City Ciderworks has moved its operation from Durham to Lexington.  They have opened up a great little spot on Main Street as well.

bullcity cider

The Candy Factory is probably the best known spot, though.  It was recently featured (again) in Our State magazine.

our state

You name it, they have it.  I bet there has been more than one temper tantrum thrown in this shop.  One of the BFF’s cousins works here.  She wasn’t around during our visit unfortunately.

For some reason I can’t fathom, I didn’t take a picture of the old Courthouse.  It is a beautiful building.  The sign will have to do this time.

courthouse sign

After the meeting was over, our first order of business was lunch.  At Lexington Barbecue. Or The Monk, as the folks there know it.  Another mystery that was explained but really didn’t make much sense to me.  What do I know?  I am a mountain girl.  (**Ok– the website says it was built by Wayne Monk.)  Got it.  They even still have curb service. Another thing of the past. The precursor to the drive-up window. I was a touch offended when the BFF started to explain what curb service is.  (She didn’t know Don’s Drive-In in Spruce Pine back in the day so I forgave her.)

Hushpuppies and a messy BBQ sandwich with slaw.  Slap your mama good, as the BFF has been known to say.

After lunch, we headed to The Lake.  Mo and her husband have a house there.  I could sit on the deck for hours.

Mo's deck

We were joined by T and K and sat in The Island, sharing a red Solo cup of wine.

Côtes de Gascogne brings back lovely memories.  I introduced the BFF to it when she and Mo came to visit me in Arles, France during the summer of 2007.

This one was taken the morning they discovered viennoiseries, little French breakfast pastries.

pastries

Mo and her hubby also have a boat.

mo's boat

My toes were happy as we zipped around The Lake.

happy toes

So were the pups we took with us! Lola looks sad, but trust me, she was not.

We spent a lovely day and evening.  Thank you for having us, Mo.

Thank you, BFF, for so many, many things.  For being your best self and always being just a text or phone call away.  For being my soul sister, the Thelma to my Louise.  For all of your love, support and miles of walking therapy through this 25-year journey.  For having the chutzpah to reinvent yourself at an age when many are thinking of retiring. For loving white t-shirts and black pants almost as much as I do. For always looking for the silver lining and inspiring me to do the same.  For making me laugh. I love you.

A few years ago, the BFF gave me this recipe which she makes every Thanksgiving/Christmas.  It was passed down from her mother.

Helen’s Cranberry-Apple Casserole

3 cups tart, peeled apples, diced (Granny Smith)

2 cups fresh whole cranberries

1 cup granulated sugar

Mix above ingredients and put in 10 x 13 pan.

Top with:

1 cup chopped pecans

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/3 cup flour

1-1/2 cups rolled oats

1/2 cup melted butter

Mix topping together.  Sprinkle over fruit.  Bake 1 hour at 325˚F.

Bon appétit to all BFFs.  Here’s to adventures.  May we have many, many more and be those little old ladies who go kicking and screaming and laughing wearing pink scarves and just the right shade of pink lipstick.  Keep that twinkle.

 

Gratitude Project

This is an earlier post that I am moving over from my original blog.  It is one of my most meaningful experiences and I like to look back on it often.  It keeps me grateful and less likely to get wrapped up dramas or concerns that I cannot control.

Can you teach someone else to be grateful?  Do you just live it by example?  Why is it so difficult to just accept what we have and live each day with a grateful heart and mind?  Is it true that if you practice gratefulness daily that it will become a habit?  Research has shown that it takes 21 days to form a habit.  That is just three short weeks.  504 hours, part of which is spent sleeping.  30,240 seconds.  1 Mississippi 2 Mississippi 3 Mississippi.  While googling the topic, I found an interesting article on Psychology Today about happiness.  10 Ways to Make Yourself Happier in 30 Seconds or Less.  It’s worth a read.  Gratitude is in there.

Tracy Wilson, a woman I know here in Durham has also started a daily gratitude journal.  I have subscribed to her updates and enjoy reading them now each morning, along with Sean Dietrich‘s Facebook posts. (If you are not a FB user, I’ve linked his website.)  It is how I choose to begin my day.

Now, back to my original Gratitude Project post.

Abby is a very wise young lady.  I continue to be amazed by her.  And I am so grateful that we bonded last school year.

Friday, April 29, 2016

Mrs E:

What happens when a student and a teacher make a lasting impact on each other?  I realize that I have only known Abby for two years, but somehow it seems much longer.  There are a lot of things I could say about Abby, but this video will tell you part of our story.  See for yourself what an amazing young woman she is.
Many thanks to SoulPancake and their video on The Science of Happiness.  We used a short excerpt from the video.  If you wish to watch it in its entirety and find out more about their project, click on the link.
Many thanks also to the amazing Mr. Fitz who shared the video with us and inspired us to do our presentation in front of the whole middle school!
And finally, I would like to thank the incredible Abby who makes me want to be a better teacher and person every single day.  I refuse to think about next school year without you and your classmates.
We’ll always have Paris, Abby… and the Plaza Athénée and Dr. Lantieri –what great adventures! I hope that we will have many more!

Abby:

If you watched the video, I hope you understand the reason why showing appreciation is so important. You never know how far a simple thank you, phone call, email, or just a smile could go. And you don’t have an infinite amount of time with the people you love either. For me, showing my gratitude, as simply as sending a letter, led me to having one of the best relationships of my life. I’ve realized that life is short, and there is so little time to stay the things you mean to the people you love, so say them while you can.


Abby’s Queso Dip

1 lb or 16 oz of Velveeta, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
1/2 lb ground sausage
1 can of Rotel Diced Tomatoes and Green Chilies, undrained

1. Cook the ground sausage in a saucepan until browned, strain all the grease out and put the sausage back into the saucepan.
2. Add the Rotel and Velveeta, cook over medium heat for 5 minutes, or until the Velveeta is completely melted, stirring frequently.
3. Serve warm with tortilla chips, I recommend Tostitos Scoops because you can scoop up a ton of queso with those things, they’re also good for making these really good mini nachos by the way.

Bon appétit, y’all.  I hope that you have someone in your life to be grateful for each and every day. Tell them.  Start your own Gratitude Project.  You will be amazed at the results.

A Life Well-Lived

dave g

Saying good-bye in any language has always been very difficult for me.  Au revoir, ciao, adieu, arrivederci, salut, see you later, see you soon.  They all mean the same thing.  I hope that I will see you again.  Sometimes yes, sometimes no.  Yesterday, we said good-bye to Dave Gould in a packed school auditorium.  A room packed with childhood friends, college chums, mates, colleagues, former students, and family members.  I volunteered to organize this celebration of his life because his wife asked me to and because that is my best way of dealing with grief.  Get busy and put off thinking about the hole that will be left behind when I no longer see this person again or get random emails from him.  At least not until I reach the other side.  Dave will be in my heaven.  It wouldn’t be complete without him.  If I didn’t invite him in, he would crash the party anyway!  Using a press pass.  Or sweet-talking his way in.

I put together a slideshow using photos supplied by his wife and daughters, friends, our communications staff at school and various photos I have sitting in the cloud known as Google Photo and Photo Library.  The one above is my favorite, I think.  This is how I will choose to remember my friend of 35 years.  The ultimate prankster, a man who made you think (or THIMK, according to his students), and who loved life and gave it his all.  Perfect? Lord, no.  No more than any of us are.  I heard his wife say more than once “Damn it, David.”  At one point, she was so fed up with him for not eating that I came over to give him cooking lessons.  I think that it was a ruse on his part just to get me over and to be able to tease me, but making macaroni and cheese with him and chasing her out of the kitchen with a book and glass of wine in hand may have saved her sanity just a bit.  I hope so.

I got to say good-bye to him 10 days before he died.  I didn’t know it was our final good-bye.  Rarely do you know it at the time.  But I am so grateful that I had that chance.  I had the chance to hug him, kiss him, and say “Gould, I love you, but you are still full of shit.” That always made him laugh.  It was high praise.  And the truth.

Our final email exchange went like this:

6/24 12:16 pm

ok, ms. e, I’ll treat you to a free lunch if you can tell me who mark sackling was – a hint:  obviously he has to do with DA and you would have known him.

dg
6/24 1:00 pm
Okay, sweetie, that name is ringing not a single bell. But give me a couple of hours(days? Months? Years?) to think! Can we have lunch anyway?? Please?
Teresa
6/25 1:16 pm
oh we can certainly have lunch, but it’s always more fun if you have to work for it!  You probably are a lot closer to this boy/guy/man than you think you are. Keep thinking!  Tweak that memory of yours!
6/25 8:12 am
Mark Sackling?? I will continue to rack my brain…
6/25 8:28 am
ok, ok, first hint.  he was not a student of yours but he was at DA
Break in emailing– I ran into DG and his wife in downtown Durham at an outdoor concert at American Tobacco.  Balsam Range, my favorite bluegrass band, was playing.  This is where the aforementioned hugs and kisses took place.
7/1 1:01 pm

good seeing you last nite at ATP – can see why you love the Balsam group so much .. . great music.

But back to your search for Mark Sackling:
next clue:  Mark was a colleague of yours for a while tho you saw him more on the Upper School Campus than the Middle School campus.  I know you know him b/c there were several occasions in front of the Fine Arts bldg when  I happened to bump into you guys having a conversation there.  Seemed like a quite likable man; reminded me of a chip off the old block of guys like Timmy and Dick F.
Still having fun??!
7/2 7:28 pm
Ok, M. Gould, I am assuming that you played the part of Mark Sackling. I do not even remember the name of my character. Sing played Quartermaine. That’s the best I can come up with.   Did I earn my lunch??
A confession (to you, I did not get a chance to confess to DG)–  Since I figured I had no chance in hell of figuring out his riddle, I cheated and consulted the all-knowing Google. All I had to do was look at the first hit and it came to me.
7/2 8:18 pm

Not bad, not bad, and in fact pretty impressive, but not quite there yet.  Shouldn’t have given you all those clues in last email – age has made you wiser and savvier!  You are right – I was Mark Sackling, Sing was Quartermaine, and you were _ _ _ _ _   _ _ _ _ _ _ _

And you don’t need any more clues about your character’s name b/c they, too, were in the last email . . .
(and damn, I should’ve made the last clue I sent a bit more obtuse so you’d really have to search a bit harder.)
(and if I can remember all this in my march towards forgetfulness, with all the years I’m giving you, you should have no problems . . .)
That is when I should have confessed.  Wiser and savvier!  Ha!  Not a chance.  That was our last email exchange.  I didn’t respond.  I left for Sunset Beach for a week and never answered.  We returned from the beach July 9 and on July 10 I got a call from Dave’s wife that he had passed away in his sleep that morning.
And just to prove that he could get the last word in, a couple of days later, I was looking for something in my nightstand and what should I find underneath a book, but very near the top–
quatermaine
I hadn’t thought about the play in years until Mark Sackling popped up.  We put this on at school in the 80’s.  And I didn’t think that I still had the playbook.  Coincidence?  Hmmm… not so sure.
the crew
france12 best
We had some fun over the past 35 years.  Dinners, parties, hiding beer cans, playing games, sand tennis, Sunset Beach, The Fruit Olympics, France, listening to your awful French.
You had a crush on Princess Diana?  How could I not have known that Gould fact??  I really would have teased you about that.  Or maybe not.  Somehow that just makes you more adorable in my eyes.
princessdi
Thank you for being my friend, Dave Gould.  I love you!
One more thing before you go back to whatever mischief you are up to in your heaven.
Anita Manchip.  I played Anita.  I look forward to collecting on that free lunch one of these days!
Dave’s favorite movie was Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.  His daughters chose to show a clip of it at the celebration.
His favorite poem was The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert Service.  I found this version, read by Johnny Cash.
obit
Dave’s Mac and Cheese

I am renaming my favorite recipe in honor of my friend.  If you are looking for low-calorie, forget it.  But if you are looking for comfort, get out the pot and pan.

3 Tbsp butter
3 Tbsp all-purpose flour
3 cups milk
3 cups shredded cheese (cheddar or a mixture of cheddar and Monterey Jack)
16-oz. macaroni
Salt, pepper (black or white), ground mustard or Texas Pete sauce can be added.  Or a combination of all.  Today, I decided to add bacon that had been cooked to crispy and then drained on paper towels.

Cook macaroni in salted, boiling water until it is al dente (for small elbows, about 9 minutes).
Drain, rinse, and set aside.
Melt butter in large pan over medium heat.  Whisk in the flour and combine well.  Cook for about a minute to remove the flour taste.  Gradually add milk and continue to whisk.  Cook until the mixture thickens into a creamy roux.  Add seasonings and whisk well.  Remove from heat.
Add 2-1/2 cups of the cheese and stir until melted and combined.
Put macaroni into a buttered baking pan.  (I cooked the bacon in the cast iron pan and left some of the drippings in for flavor, so I didn’t need to butter the pan.)  Pour cheese sauce over the macaroni and stir well.  (I added the crumbled bacon at this point, reserving some for the top.)
Top with remaining 1/2 cup of cheese. (My grandmother always topped hers with bread crumbs or crushed crackers.)
Bake in pre-heated 350˚F oven for 20-25 minutes, until cheese is bubbling.

Bon appétit to all my friends.  I love each and every one of you.  At the end, may we all be able to say that we led a life well-lived.  You may be gone from us physically, Dave Gould, but you will never be forgotten.
DG beach