Happy Birthday to My Favorite Friend

My father would have turned 84 today.

As those of you who visit here regularly know, he is often the inspiration behind my kitchen experiments and my posts.

Perhaps more importantly, he gave me many of his traits, including a voracious appetite for the written word, as well as a hearty appetite for food, which is why my hips are bigger than I want them to be. He loved history, especially American history, and I majored in that subject at college. A letter my father wrote to his Aunt Laura Penn at the end of World War II indicates he considered becoming a journalist. I did become one, for several years in radio and a decade in newspapers.

I inherited his sense of humor and the inherent shyness that humor masked.

When I was a child, I called him by his given name. Calling him Daddy came much later. I called him my "Favorite Friend."

I am what I am because of both of my parents. But I suspect I am more like my father than I am like my mother.

No parents are perfect. They give us their gifts and some are perhaps faulty. But you know it doesn't really matter, if we are fortunate enough to grow to like ourselves as we are. And I have. Lucky me.

I keep a small copper vase on my desk in my new office. It is filled with paper clips. I cannot recall what my father used it for, but I use it to remind me of him and the simple lessons he taught me.

"If you can't say anything good about someone, don't say anything at all."

and

"You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar."

He practiced those lessons, especially the first one.

Thanks, Dad. Happy birthday.

Note: The photo is Boulevard l'Hopital in Paris. Thanks to the men of the 4th Infantry Division - and the book, "Is Paris Burning?" - I was able to determine the route of the first American troops to enter Paris in 1944. My father was part of a combat engineer unit that was part of this, the famed "Ivy Division." I believe this boulevard, which my husband and I know well, was part of the route through the 13th arrondissement.

A Sparkling Bay, a Ferry Ride and Green Tea Ice Cream

Saturday we rose early and had breakfast at a sunny cafe near the harbor. My husband ordered French toast while I enjoyed a farmer's omelet. The harbor was a busy place, filled with sailboats and fishing vessels, and we watched them as we ate. Soon, we would board a ferry for Door County.

Door County, some of you may know, is considered the "Cape Cod of the Midwest." I didn't give it that name, nor would I. Door County is just Door County: A rocky, woody peninsula where the air smells like woodsmoke all year long. There are resorts and motels and miniature golf courses along with charming shops, antiques and plenty of art studios. And there are lovely restaurants.

We usually drive there and stay at a resort perched on a cliff. We sample wine, enjoy long leisurely meals and soak in the whirlpool. I shop for folk art and contemporary art jewelry and my husband indulges me (my kind of getaway).

But today we were car-less, and had to make our way around Sturgeon Bay on foot. This is a small city of shipyards and art museums, of Queen Anne homes on tree-lined streets and posh resorts and old brick buildings from two centuries ago.

We enjoyed ourselves, of course, eating chicken sandwiches with lime and cilantro and buying fudge for my husband. My own big discovery was green tea ice cream, which is incredibly refreshing but apparently not very popular here.

"People are afraid to try it," the nice young man behind the counter told me.

Even better than the food was the ferry ride. In the morning, it was cool and we stayed inside, but on the return trip in the late afternoon, we found seats on the stern deck and relished the breeze and sunshine. We passed the green Door County headlands and the limestone clifts and lighthouses and island and dozens of other craft.

It was nearly 7 p.m. when we returned home, but we had ribs, fresh corn and a simple cucumber salad along with a modest wine that tasted of orchard fruits.

I just wanted to share this day with you. It was near-perfect.

My Guilty Pleasure: French Convenience Food

I'm not cooking much these days and I don't like it.

I'm just too darned busy!

I am not starving: One of the perks of my job is free lunch on meeting days, and we have a lot of those. It's fast-ish food, of course, and I must put an end to it by spending some quality time in the kitchen this weekend, chopping vegetables and preparing dishes that will last into the week.

I seldom buy convenience foods at the supermarket. I am not a rigid purist, but high blood pressure runs in my family and I like to avoid sodium. I'll admit to buying Triscuits and - I've admitted this already - ready-made pizza or pie crust. Is that my father rolling over is his grave? Sorry, mon pere.

I love French convenience food. The notion that you can buy frozen Croque Monsieur intrigues me. I have never tried it, but one of these trips, I will.

On our last visit, my husband bought a ready-made hotdog from the lower level of a Fran Prix on Avenue de la Bourdonnais, about five blocks east of the Eiffel Tower. It was near the end of our trip, and he was craving American food.

"Not bad," he said, after zapping it for a bit in the microwave.

I prefer convenience appetizers, like the cunning little cheese bites above. They were topped with pimiento, chives and herbes de Provence. We both enjoyed them.

I was attracted by their cuteness. Yes, I was. Fortunately, they offered real flavor, too. I have found that convenience food is not necessarily tasteless in France.

By the same token, "cute" food does not always equal good food. I've been seduced by shape or size or packaging many times. We all have.

Have you ever been taken in by a cute food? If so, what was it? What did it taste like?

Vive La France! Happy Bastille Day

Arriving at Charles de Gaulle Airport feels like arriving anywhere else. You know you are in France, but your taxi is long (personally, I think planes land in Normandy and taxi to Rouissy) and the terrain is boring. I mean, it's a runway. How fascinating can it be?

As the shuttle van heads for Paris, the landscape remains bland. The suburban sprawl you see outside the taxi window could be anywhere. The gleaming white towers of Sacre Coeur are your first indication, that, yes, this is Paris.

So it was on my first entrance to Paris.

My second indication was the Place de La Bastille. The Colonne de Juillet was the second landmark I recognized on the initial visit to Paris. Then, I knew that we were finally in Paris.

This landmark commemorates the French Revolution of July 1830. But because it is placed near the location of the Bastille, which was stormed on July 14, 1789, we often connect it with that earlier revolution.

Doesn't matter to me. July is my birthday month, and you might say it is France's birthday, too. So I feel a special connection with this monument.

I'm celebrating Bastille Day by spending time in my kitchen, something I've not had much time for lately.

Vive la France!

To Market, To Market: The Best Part of Summer

Our humble five- or six-stall farm market is still a big draw for me, even after experiencing the charm and vitality of Rue Cler.

I know that the market will grow with the crops, and by the end of August, it will be filled with tomatoes and peppers and squash and beans and oh, everything that is good for you!

I was pleased to find the Vangs with their usual table full of clean and nicely displayed produce. I bought carrots, cabbage, radishes, two kinds of onions, green beans and beets. My something extra - the freebie they always give me - was a bag of red and green leaf lettuce.

Have you shopped at your local market lately? What did you come home with?

Tomatoes Stuffed with Italian Sausage

Ah Paris! Already more than a month in the past, it now seems like a dream.

On our last day, we noticed sausage-stuffed tomatoes at the Mediterranean deli across the street. We had plenty of food left, and although they looked delicious, my frugality once again maintained the upper hand.

I passed, thinking I could make them back in Wisconsin.

Tonight, the end of a sunny and breezy high summer day, I did just that. The result was July’s equivalent of a September favorite, stuffed green peppers.

Simple Sausage Stuffed Tomatoes

5-6 large tomatoes
½ pound spicy Italian sausage
1 tablespoon olive oil
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
1 small onion, chopped
3 tablespoons green pepper, chopped
½ teaspoon dried thyme leaves
dash herbes de Provence
Pinch fleur de sel
Dash pepper

Preheat oven to 350. Slice off the tops of the tomatoes. Gently remove the pulp, juice and seeds.

Brown sausage in olive oil, breaking into small pieces with wooden spatula. When sausage is brown, remove it and set aside. Add garlic, onion and pepper and cook until tender. Add sausage, thyme and herbs and cook over low heat for about 10 minutes. You may want to add a bit of tomato sauce or leftover spaghetti sauce for color.

Place tomatoes in lightly greased backing dish. Fill with sausage mixture. If there is some left over, place this in the dish, too.

Bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes. After about 15 minutes, sprinkle with Parmesan cheese.

I served this with French bread and an off-brand white shiraz that was peppery and berrylike on the tongue and oakey at the finish.

Let's Play Tag: Independence Day

Julie from Noshtalgia tagged me today, asking me to post eight random facts about myself.

I am grateful for this, because it gives me the change to explain why I have been missing in action these last few months. My facts are not all that random, but I will present them in a random way. Sort of.

(1) I started experiencing workplace burnout two or three years ago. I’ve worked at the same place for 10 years, and for seven of those years, I have juggled two jobs.

(2) I started looking for a new job in late March. I prepared a new resume, bought some interview clothing, lined up some references, and put out some feelers. Two job searches re-opened and three friends sent me tips of job openings at their companies.

(3) I started interviewing in April.

(4) I knew that I wanted to run a nonprofit organization. I enjoy public speaking, meeting new people, solving problems, raising money and building consensus. I like to be pro-active.

(5) When we got back from France, I had some interviews with a high-profile organization.

(6) A few weeks ago, I got a job offer. Then I got another one. I accepted the second one. I start July 9.

(7) I am excited. I am nervous. I am revved.

(8) I spent today cleaning out my desk. I had mixed feelings. I liked many of my coworkers. Most of them, in fact. I did not always agree with how the company did things. But I enjoyed the workplace, and I felt a little sad at leaving it behind, even though I can visit at any time.

My new job will give me more free time in the evenings. Not to mention more responsibility and everything that comes with it.

Thanks to Julie, I was offered a graceful way of sharing this new development in my life. I started several posts, but I felt a bit funny about it. I dunno, like I was talking about myself too much.

If you have something to share, this is a good way to do it! I won’t tag anyone. I’ll just encourage you all to participate.

The photo, of course, has nothing to do with these recent career developments. But the organization I will work for, like me, has its roots in France.