Moment of Wonder: Beach Art

Making Do

C and I decided it was time for the Lego table, which had made its way to our living room for the birthday party, to find a new home. It was getting a little ridiculous, taking up all the space that might otherwise be used for, er, living (of course the Lego's never stayed confined to the actual table), and it served a huge distraction, drawing the attention of any short person every time he passed by. It definitely had to go before school started.

The day of the hurricane seemed like a perfect time for a major rearrangement. The Lego's were slated for the basement, but first some cleaning was in order. C has moved a lot of junk valuable building materials and garden tools out to the barage, freeing up a lot of space.  First I swept and vacuumed 10 years of accumulated dust from under the stairs (I would regret this later that night when my bronchioles closed up), just to make the whole place a little more sanitary, then I worked on cleaning, dusting, vacuuming and de-spidering the intended play corner. As we worked, C and I got talking for our (long-term) plans for the space and, as all such conversations do, ended up with C getting grumpy and defensive because of course he's the one who would have to do all the drywalling, tiling, etc.

So, i decided to take matters into my own hands and brighten up this one gloomy color. I painted the concrete parts of the walls with the same pale yellow clay paint I had used in the pantry room. To hide the insulation-filled stud bays I had first thought of draping cloth, but then remembered all these Smoky Bear posters we had acquired during our Forest Service days. I had planned to use them down here if when we finish the room anyway. 

You can tell how spontaneous my redecorating was by the fact that I didn't even take "before" photos. Suffice it to say that pale yellow is much brighter and more cheerful than dull gray concrete.

We moved all the Lego's down (the drawer is too wide to go down the stairs full, so we transferred the Lego's to a grain bag, which they fill completely, not counting the already-built structures. And yet, these kids will fight over a single piece!!)

This is also where we hide the not earthy-mama-blogger-worthy toys, like remote control Hummers and boxes of random crap that we've scooped off the bedroom floor in frustration and sequestered in the basement.

There is still a ton of clutter down here that I need to deal with (you can see some of it on the right hand side of the photo), and of course that drywall, tile, ceiling, wiring, paint, etc. would be nice. But this little corner feels just right, for now.

Purple Pizza

We spent most of Hurricane Sunday indoors, cleaning, reading (I'm reading E and Z book 2 of Harry Potter, and they wanted to finish so we could watch the movie), watching movies (yes, Harry Potter #2, though we didn't finish the book first), with a few forays out into the wild, whipping wind in between downpours. We headed out into our neighbor's field as what we reverently referred to as "The Eye" passed over us and practiced launching hard green apples with the wind's help and ran up and down hills and set leaves flying. We were quite fortunate to be well away from the destructive arm of the storm, and didn't even need to fear losing power, with our solar energy stored cozily in batteries (though the next morning we learned that most around us--including our daycare--had lost theirs and still didn't have it back).

A day of such excitement requires some sort of celebratory meal...one that can be made from the dwindling stores of a refrigerator owned by those who spend the day before a storm at the beach, rather than in the grocery store stocking up on water, batteries and canned goods.

And so we have, Purple Pizza.

Sorry for the poor light, but there was a hurricane going on.

To make:

Combine: 

1 c warm water

1 t honey

1 T yeast

Let sit till foamy (about 5 min.), then add:

1/2 c oatmeal (ground to a meal in blender)

1/2 c whole wheat flour

1 t salt

1 T olive oil

1 1/2  to 2 c all purpose flour

Knead till smooth and elastic. Place in oiled bowl, cover and let rise until doubled (about 1 hour).

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Punch down dough, roll into a circle and place on pizza stone or pan (sprinkled liberally with cornmeal).

Prepare blueberry pesto:

Combine in blender or food processor:

2 c blueberries

1 c herbs (I used basil and parsley)

4 cloves garlic

1/2 c Pecorino Romano or Parmesan cheese

1/4 c olive oil

1 c toasted nuts or seeds (I used sunflower seeds)

Whir until if forms a thick paste.

Spread pesto evenly over crust.

Dollop with goat cheese.

Bake about 20 min or until cheese begins to turn golden.

Eat. 

Last Dash for the Beach

So, it turns out that ignoring all of the urgent back-to-school sale fliers does not prevent summer from coming to a close.

This summer seemed to go by especially fast. Perhaps it was because I spent the first half anticipating the trip that would occupy the second half, which never came.

In my usual end-of-summer dash to soak the last bit of summerness out of the season, I declared that we would go to the beach Saturday, come hell or high water, or, as it were, hurricane.

It turns out that the day before a hurricane is a great day to go to the beach, because everyone else is not there.

We had the sand to ourselves for the first half hour or so, then only a handful of families joined us.

And though it was foggy most of the day, it was warm. Turns out tropical storms bring tropical weather.

We chose to go to the small, more sheltered beach, in case Irene was pushing big swells ahead of her, so that an errant wave would not wash one of our children to Nova Scotia.

The surf was mild, but filled with all manner of interesting flotsam, including several clumps of a weird, spongy seaweed that I believe is green fleece (aka dead man's fingers). Unfortunately, I didn't take any pictures of it.

We did all the requisite beach activities: sand digging (E made sand nests in hopes of attracting his seagull friends, Seagey, Pecky, Laughy and Colorey).

Synchronized reading.

Swimming, tidepooling, drawing, collecting, eating cheese and crackers seasoned with sand. It's the kind of day you wish could last forever.

After it all, though, I headed to Portland to meet my dear friend and her nice new (to me) boyfriend for dinner at my favorite restaurant, and, after sending them off into the hurricane (they had to get back to Connecticut), I happened to be driving through Freeport just in time to catch the last showing of The Passion of the Hausfrau, which I hadn't been able to get to this time around.

No Added Pectin Jam

Wouldn't you know it? Immediately after I did all that whining about no good peaches in Maine the other day, I got an email from my local farm store saying they had--guess what?--peaches! (Dare I complain about lack of apricots in hopes that a rare batch of same will appear from nowhere??) I ran right over and bought a big bag full and stayed up late making jam.

See how gorgeous it is?



I've been experimenting with no-added-pectin jam since last summer--actually, experimenting is the wrong word, since that implies study design, a hypothesis, a control batch and record-keeping, so let's say instead that I've been playing around with no-added-pectin jam and my conclusion, thus far is: (added) pectin, who needs it? My cynical mind assumes it's an industrial by-product of some kind and would otherwise be costly to dispose of, so instead it's packaged and sold as essential.

My general rule of thumb when making no-added-pectin jams is: 4 cups crushed fruit to 4 cups sugar (I use organic sugar, which works fine, despite not being white-white. I would advise against using turbinado, which renders the jam ugly brown and, apparently, the molasses has an effect on the jelling). For non-sour fruits I add also 1/4 cup lemon juice.

Sometimes I mix it all together and let it macerate for an hour or so before boiling. Sometimes I bring just the crushed fruit to a boil, then add the (pre-warmed in a pan in a low oven) sugar.

Some fruit only takes 5-10 minutes of boiling (raspberries, blackberries), some takes longer. I try to avoid the 30 to 40-minute boils recommended for other fruits, because that just seems cooked to death (also, I prefer a softer, less jelly-like, jam). The peach called for 40 minutes of boil, but between 15 and 20 it went from a beautiful golden color to the dark orange you see here (I kept the skins on, which added to the darker color as well, I believe) and started to burn to the pan. My preferred test-for-doneness method is to place a couple of saucers in the freezer, dollop a spoonful of jam onto one of them as it seems to be getting close to done, place it back in the freezer for a minute or two, then push my finger across the surface. If it wrinkles, it's done. If not, boil a few more minutes and repeat.

Some variations on the theme:

With strawberry this year, I had intended to make three batches, but discovered after I had crushed  4 cups of fruit in each of three pans, that I was short by about two cups of sugar. Instead I divided the third batch and between the first two. The down side was that every time it came to a rolling boil, it would overflow, so it never really got to temperature. I also tried straining out the fruit and just boiling the juice/sugar mixture for 20 or 25 minutes, then adding the fruit for another five or ten, to keep a fresher flavor. Still I never got up to full boil long, and ended up with a saucier jam (which I am totally fine with, but it may not be gift-worthy).

With blueberry, I used 6 cups whole berries to 3 1/2 cups sugar. The boiling time was probably about 15 or 20 minutes (woefully I don't take notes!) rather than the recommended 30. Last year my blueberry (using the 4:4 ratio) was way too stiff; this year's I think came out better.

My best and favorite jam is 4 Berry: one cup each raspberries, blackberries, blueberries and strawberries. We're having an off blackberry year (they're an every-other-year crop), so I'm not sure if I'll be able to come up with enough of them for a batch this year, but if I do, it will probably be my last batch of jam, and then I hope we'll have enough to see us through to next summer.


For years I tried to make low-sugar jams with special low-sugar pectin, but was never pleased with the results--bland flavor, mushy texture, dull color, short shelf life once opened. I was afraid I would poison my family with it. I think the 4:4 fruit:sugar ratio is slightly less sugar than some jam with added pectin recipes, but it is sugary, if that bothers you. Then again, it's only meant to be eaten in small quantities.


What are your jam secrets?

Peachy Keen

Peaches aren't grown commercially in Maine, and the ones from the store are, quite frankly, just gross. (Yes, I am a peach snob, and will not eat a fruit with the texture of a styrofoam ball or the flavor of, well, a hard, unripened, not very good peach). So they are a rare fruit indeed. And to receive a real, ripe one is a gift.

I received such a gift Monday: six perfect peaches from a friend whose mother has two heavily-laden peach trees.


They were so beautiful, that we used them as a centerpiece (before they became dessert) for our dinner of summer succotash and gorgonzola cheese (for me) or local sweet Italian sausage (for everyone else). Except for the cheese, and a little bit of olive oil, it was a completely local meal (all from farmer's markets or a local farm store).

This is the first summer in years that I didn't institute the "Maine-only" food regime, mainly because I had planned (hoped) to spend most of the summer not in Maine. But, we've gotten so into the habit of buying from local farms and farmer's markets, that we have an almost all-Maine diet by default (I will admit to buying a lot more cherries, grapes, ice cream and packaged snacks this summer, though).


Food just tastes better when it comes from down the road (or your own backyard). Especially peaches.

For my birthday, Saturday, we traded our kids for these:


Two kayaks and the open ocean.

This little rock became our home for the night.

It was not glamping, by any stretch of the imagination (I even forgot my camping bunting). We ate cup-o-soup

and oatmeal

and scrunched into our old two-man tent (and good thing, too, as the one flat spot of sand was just barely big enough for our footprint).

It was a short enough paddle, so we had the whole afternoon to just relax and explore. Do you know how rare it is to have hours and hours with nothing to do? I bet you do. We visited the neighboring island, circumambulated our own, swam, napped. I drew and wrote in my nature journal, and, because I adore Melissa's little nature-inspired embroideries over at Tiny Happy, I free-handed a little picture of our island:

And now I'll be sure to take embroidery supplies every time I go camping. And I won't forgo certain natural colors (I'd only taken blues, grays, greens and browns, due to my preconceived vision of what I would see).

On Sunday, we took our own sweet time packing up, then paddled out to visit some other islands before letting the wind and the waves drift us back toward home.