Last night we had friends over for dinner for the first time in, well, months. It was a lovely sign that we're recovering some normal in this journey with Richard's brain cancer, or if not normal (whatever that means in these days of nuclear disaster in Japan and bloody revolution in Libya), at least the ordinary pleasures of cooking together.

The latter is no small thing. As I began prep cooking late in the afternoon while Richard napped, I tried to remember the last time Richard's brain was up for the task of collaborating on a meal. I couldn't. I'm guessing sometime before my mom's downhill slide around the holidays.

But last night, he was on task. He checked the barbecue and cleaned off the grill, made the guacamole , and grilled the lovely whole salmon filet I had scored on sale at the grocery store (wild Alaskan salmon, thank you very much, caught in FAO Area 67).

I made the quinoa salad, picked fresh greens from the garden for garnish, prepared and baked the apple-nectarine crisp, and plated the meals. (They were pretty, as in the photo below.)

Plate

Here's the menu, which uses as many local foods as possible:

Almost-Spring Dinner (in honor of John and SueEllen's visit)

Organic yellow corn tortilla chips with freshly-made guacamole (the chips are from Colorado, the rest, no)
Grilled salmon brushed with blood-orange-infused organic California olive oil (nothing local there, but quite yummy!)
Quinoa Loves Lemon salad with fresh spinach and chervil garnish (all local but the olives)
Whole wheat boule (fresh-baked at Salida Bread Company from local organic wheat)
Apple & Nectarine Crisp with vanilla and lemon ice cream (the crisp is all-local, the ice cream not at all)

Quinoaclose

Quinoa Loves Lemon Salad
1 clove garlic, minced
1 T olive oil
1 cup rinsed quinoa (I substituted a third-cup of bulgur for a third-cup of the quinoa just for variety)
juice of one small Meyer lemon (about 1.5 T), in this case from our own dwarf tree
2 cups water
pinch salt
1/2 cup chopped broccoli, steamed
1/2 cup Greek or Spanish mixed olives, pitted
1 T lemon-infused olive oil
greens to garnish (I picked spinach and chervil out of our winter greens bed–sweet and fresh!)

Mince garlic and sauté in olive oil until just beginning to brow. Stir in quinoa (and bulgur, if substituting) and saute for two to three minutes. Add lemon juice, salt and water and bring to a boil, then simmer for 15 minutes or until water is absorbed. While grain is still warm, stir in broccoli, olives, and olive oil. Mound atop fresh greens. Delicious warm or chilled. (Makes 4-6 servings.)

Fruitcrisp

Nectarine & Apple Crisp
1 quart frozen nectarine slices (I freeze them ripe with a dash of citric acid and sugar to preserve their color)
6 apples (I used last fall's local Sungolds–they're a mite withered, but they still have great flavor)
1 T apple brandy
3/4 cup whole wheat flour
2 T oat bran
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup roasted pecans
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 stick (8 T) unsalted butter (chilled or frozen)

Heat oven to 375 degrees. Core apples and chop into one-inch chunks. Spread evenly into a 6- by 10-inch glass or ceramic baking pan. Top with nectarine slices (I like to arrange them prettily as in the photo above, even though they disappear under the crisp topping), sprinkle with apple brandy and set aside. Put flour, oat bran, sugar, pecans and spices into food processor and whirl to combine. Cut butter into chunks, add to food processor and pulse until butter-flour mixture is the texture of coarse cornmeal. Pour mixture over fruit, level out, and tap pan a few times to settle. Put pan in oven and bake for 55 minutes or until crisp top is browned slightly. Cool before serving with ice cream. (Makes 6-8 servings.)

Crispwicecream

Delicious food, much of it local and organic, good friends, wonderful conversation–all in all, a great evening. Best of all though, was the sweet realization that Richard and I can collaborate in the kitchen again. An absolutely ordinary miracle!

Last night I went to sleep thinking of yesterday's tragedy in Tucson, and this morning woke with a haiku in my head. As some of you know, I have a daily haiku practice: I post a haiku and photo every morning on Facebook and just the haiku on Twitter (search: susanjtweit).

It's my way of fostering awareness and mindfulness about what's happening in life–in particular, the community of the land–in the virtual world of internet social networking. The brevity of classical haiku–a whole thought contained in 17 syllables–is perfect for Facebook, and for Twitter's 140-character limit. The discipline helps me shape my thoughts and choose my words, and say something I hope is useful in short form.

As I understand it, haiku was originally a sort of epigram introducing a longer poem; it's traditionally a 5/7/5 form, with five syllables in the first line, seven in the second and five in the third, although in English that particular rhythm is a strict rule. Haiku is usually focused on nature and landscape. There's traditionally a reference to the season or the time of year and a word that acts as a hinge between two thoughts, scenes or parts of the poem, and it often incorporates a surprise.

Here's what formed in my head as I thought of yesterday's shooting:

Haiku for Tucson–and the world:

To grow healing:
sprout. reach for the sun. drink rain. root.
grow community.

Cardon

My heart goes out to Representative Giffords and her family, along with the other shooting victims and their families, and the shooter and his family–to the whole community, really.

••••

Today's post was to be just a brief garden report in honor of the persistence of our kitchen garden in this extraordinarly dry and cold winter. We've received less than an inch of moisture here in the valley since last September; our snow shovels sit unused on the back porch. Without the blanket of moisture, nighttime temperatures have already dropped as low as minus twelve, and winter's a long way from being over.

Rowcovers

Yesterday, when I pulled back the row covers on the two beds in the kitchen garden that we keep under wraps over the winter, to check the soil moisture, I was delighted to find not just hardy spinach and winter herbs like parseley and chervil thriving; the baby lettuces were looking great as well. That is an auspicious sign for the occasional winter salad, as well as a impressively good jump-start on greens for spring.

(That's the row covers in the photo above, with a skiff of snow–all we've gotten this winter so far–giving them a bit of white frosting. Below is some of the lettuce. These particular plants are Monet's Garden Mix from Renee's Garden Seeds–aren't they pretty? They're small but thriving despite the sub-zero nights!)

Winterlettuce

••••

One final note: Tomorrow I have the honor of kicking off the blog book tour for a charming and insightful new children's book, Your Fantastic Elastic Brain, by JoAnn Deak, Ph.D. I thought I knew a lot about brains after the past 19 months with Richard's brain cancer and his two brain surgeries, but this book taught me some new aspects of our body's most amazing organ. So swing by tomorrow for a review of Your Fantastic Elastic Brain and a special offer from publisher Little Pickle Press. (Note to FTC: I don't receive any compensation for these reviews–I should be so lucky!)

YFEB_cover_small(2)