You Heard Me!

To all of the foolish hearts out there. " 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. " Alfred Lord Tennyson Few musicians are able to convey their depth of emotion as well as Bill Evans. Many years ago I had the priviledge of seeing Mr.Evans perform in a tiny, smoke-filled bar in San Francisco. His hands were plump from his apparent heroin addiction, however, that didn't inhibit his purity and artistry. Bill Evans August 16, 1929- September 15, 1980

                                                          Image from Dark Roasted Blend This new year finds me asking, "What you Gonna do?"   20/10 sounds like a oil additive for my car.  I'll have to check my dip-stick more often, I guess.  Each year I propose new goals and this year I've tried to simplify them to ensure a more reasonable chance of success.  Less is more; frown less, drink less, worry less, eat less and look up at the stars a bit more often.   The last year was oh-so sad for me.  My Aunt Mitzi died and then my mother passed away a month later.  Five months went by, when my younger sister suddenly died.   Thus, I'm looking over my shoulder a lot, hoping a wrecking ball doesn't accidentally snap my head off.   It seems that time is never distributed with any measurement of  equanimity , (Aristotle, wherefore art thou?) so, perhaps by making time a priority I will extract more juice from life. Procrastination is no longer an option. I see the wr...

New Year's Eve-1962-63 San Francisco   photos: Karin Kascher © 2009                             

First published: December 1995 Tiny Lights Publications paintings by Norman Rockwell photographs by Karin Kascher They’re back!  The holidays. One of Norman Rockwell’s merrily contented families enjoying a delectable feast pops into my mind when the approaching festivities are mentioned.  I can see someone’s Uncle Bob, sober as a judge, carving the succulent, evenly browned beast with white paper tassels atop the plump and juicy drumsticks. His calm and blissful expression is emulated by all the eager guests seated around the perfectly set table.  And who should appear through the swinging kitchen door but sweet Aunt Dorothy, white-haired and rosy-cheeked, wearing her simple, dark blue dress, dotted with tiny pink roses and a neatly starched apron.  She is proudly presenting her freshly baked pies to the sounds of oohs and ahhs, and respectful squeals of delight!   Come to think of it, when did dear Aunt Dorothy find the time to single-handedly ...

As cold temperatures beckon, the idle mind starts to wander- more than usual-  that is! The very thought of a simmering homemade soup and the smell of bread baking evoke a comfort that money can't buy!  Of course with the hefty rise in bread prices, making it yourself is an huge incentive. My mother and Aunt Rosi (Rosi Tante) both baked bread each Monday morning. My mother's bread was very, very substantial (think brick) and she never veered from her original recipe. My Rosi Tante had a much more nuanced depth in her bread making, and she tended to experiment with various types of flour and yeasts; resulting in a more tasty and palatable loaf.  I think there must've been a bread baking rivalry between them, but it didn't matter to me because, ultimately I was the one who had to take the sandwiches to school which my mother had baked.  And, ohhhhh!  Those were sandwiches!  Old ( Transylvanian ) school, that is.  Not everyone at Proctor Elementary School had 1-inch th...

About the only things moving today are my fingers. The days of cooking, shopping and preparing for the family feast have come to an abrupt and bloated end. They came, they ate and they helped to clean-up. It's amazing how much three college kids can consume! The truth be told, I have a difficult time sharing and delegating when it comes to my kitchen. I insist on doing it all-except for peeling the potatoes. My food prep-area is fondly called the Bermuda Triangle , meaning, STAY OUT! TO STUFF, OR NOT TO STUFF... This year, I turned my back on Martha Stewart 's tried-and-true recipe for Roasting the Perfect Thanksgiving Turkey. Frankly, ever since her unfortunate incarceration, it hasn't had the same caché . I've been using Martha's method for years, which involved reams of cheesecloth, immersed in m(p) ounds of butter and bottles of Chardonnay , culminating in a messy basting ritual every 30 minutes. So, after watching the Food Network 's knowledgeable c...