Freedom From Choice

I had a friend who always used to say that what Americans really want isn’t freedom OF choice but freedom FROM choice.

He wasn’t talking about abortion.

And I think he was right.  A trip down any major grocery store aisle confirms this.  Stendahl syndrome brought on by dishsoap.    Aside from the obvious point that their guacamole products are abundant and delectable, this is why Trader Joe’s is so successful; they carry one version – one excellent version – of each product.  No choice.  You want extra virgin olive oil, there’s one bottle of extra virgin olive oil.  There’s enough drama in our daily lives without introducing tension into the olive oil selection process.  On this I believe most of us can agree.

I push hard for maintaining traditions in our family, sometimes even when it seems silly or merely ritualistic.  We are not of the religious persuasion, but we are of the How It’s Always Been persuasion.  The 4th of July is a big holiday for us, and we are lucky in that the spouse and I grew up three blocks apart and spent the holiday in pretty much identical ways;  there is no dispute about what goes down on Independence Day, no debate about which side of the family we have to spend it with, no question about “who does it right.”  We are freed from the choice of how to spend the day and the ritual, the tradition, is a comfort, not to mention a delight.

There is something indescribable, and I can write that with some authority having just spent a good fifteen minutes sitting here trying to think of how the hell to describe it, about watching our children – one who looks like him and one who looks like me – riding in the bicycle races we once rode in on the same streets with the children of the people we rode with and watching the nieces and nephews and daughters and sons of our friends who were volunteer firefighters in high school, now themselves wearing the gear and lifting our kids on to the fire engines for the rides around town and handing out the free popsicles afterwards.  My heart was full to bursting last night at the barbecue we attended at the home of friends who also grew up here WITH more friends who also grew up here…you see how it is, we can’t seem to leave, or we just keep coming back.

I am lucky that the place I am from affords me the luxury of a broad sweep of opportunities and people with which and whom to engage myself with, I know this, and I yesterday I felt the greater luxury of having to not make any choice about that.

 

 

Water-colored Memories

I’m a little obsessive in my quest to create traditions for my family.  I can’t explain what motivates this behavior, but I’m happy to just let it be a part of me.   I couldn’t say when it was that my interest in creating my own memories shifted to an interest in helping my kids create memories.  Maybe sometime around the formation of their respective placentas, but that’s just a guesstimate. 

Diversionary tactic:  I really dislike the non-word “guesstimate.”

This weekend my kids had a sleepover with two friends and they camped out in the yard. 

We, as a family, went to three different parties.  Very different parties.  The only discernible common denominator is that I didn’t see the kids from the moment we arrived at each house until the moment it was time to leave.  They were filthy, full, and fatigued.  Success.

We bought a new car.  Mydaughter traced her initials encircled by heart shapes in the dust and pollen on the old car before we traded it in.  She swore she’d “never love” the new car as much as the old one.  Until she saw the way Bluetooth works in the new one.  Fickle, fickle child.

The pool opened this weekend.  Both kids were in the water more than out over the past three days. 

On Sunday night, the kids spent the night at their grandmother’s house, where they ate chocolate frogs to their hearts’ content and watched back to back (to back to back) Harry Potter movies.

What will they remember of all this?  What won’t they ever forget?  I can’t wait to find out.

On second thought, yes I can.  I can wait.

Crabby Party

 

You don’t need any recipes for the crab feast – just crabs, shrimp, coleslaw, corn, potato chips aplenty, deviled eggs, and a salad.  And beer.  Don’t forget the beer.

The cake wasn’t good enough for me to pass along the recipe, although the icing was great – straight up chocolate buttercream from the Barefoot Contessa.

The ice cream, though, you’re going to want to make.  I got all three recipes from Epicurious and have copied them below with my notes.  Keep in mind that ice cream takes about ten times longer thanyou think it will to freeze up.  I

sent out a desperate email begging for an already-frozen ice cream maker cannister at 1 in the morning and, because I have the most well-prepared friends on the planet, got a call by 8 the next morning and was cranking out the good stuff by noon on multiple machines.  To avoid making the same mistake I did, try not to decide, last minute, that you MUST make three different kinds of homemade ice cream within 24 hours of the time you’ll be serving it.  Lesson learned.  (probably not.)

 Vanilla Bean Ice Cream
2 vanilla beans – Vanilla beans cost a fortune.  I might quit my job and move to Madagascar and become a vanilla bean farmer.
3 cups heavy cream
1 cup whole milk
1 1/2 cups sugar
3 large eggs

With a knife halve vanilla beans lengthwise. Scrape seeds into a large heavy saucepan and stir in pods, cream, milk, and sugar. Bring mixture just to a boil, stirring occasionally, and remove pan from heat. 

In a large bowl lightly beat eggs. Add hot cream mixture to eggs in a slow stream, whisking, and pour into pan. Cook custard over moderately low heat, stirring constantly, until a thermometer registers 170�F. (Do not let boil.) Pour custard through a sieve into a clean bowl and cool. Chill custard, its surface covered with wax paper, at least 3 hours, or until cold, and up to 1 day.  This is less of a pain in the ass than it sounds.  Also, I used a meat thermometer.  No harm, no foul.

Last step:  churn it up in your ice cream maker according to your ice cream maker’s directions. 

Grapefruit Sorbet
5 medium-large pink grapefruit (about 4 pounds)
3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoons (or more) sugar  – OR less, I found this a little sweet, honestly.
2 tablespoons vodka

Using knife, cut peel and white pith from grapefruit. Working over bowl, cut between membranes to release segments. Squeeze any juice from membranes into bowl. Discard any seeds. Cut each segment into pieces; add to bowl. Transfer contents of bowl to 4-cup glass measuring cup.”  Those were the official instructions, mine are more along the line of: get the parts likely to taste bitter off the grapefruit then squish them into a bowl.  Ta-da.

Place 3 cups grapefruit and juice mixture in blender (reserve any remainder for another use). Add 3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar and vodka. Blend until almost smooth and sugar dissolves, about 2 minutes. 

Do the ice cream maker thing. Spoon sorbet into container. Cover and freeze until firm, at least 3 hours. (Sorbets can be made 1 day ahead.)

Salted Caramel Ice Cream
1 1/4 cups sugar, divided
2 1/4 cups heavy cream, divided
1/2 teaspoon flaky sea salt such as Maldon
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 cup whole milk
3 large eggs

Heat 1 cup sugar in a dry 10-inch heavy skillet over medium heat, stirring with a fork to heat sugar evenly, until it starts to melt, then stop stirring and cook, swirling skillet occasionally so sugar melts evenly, until it is dark amber. – this is sort of intimidating to read – but it’s not bad.  And totally worth it.  Really, really worth it.

Add 1 1/4 cups cream (mixture will spatter) and cook, stirring, until all of caramel has dissolved. Transfer to a bowl and stir in sea salt and vanilla. Cool to room temperature or thereabouts, unless you’re in a hurry and then just pretend you did this by sticking it in the refrigerator for a half hour.

Meanwhile, bring milk, remaining cup cream, and remaining 1/4 cup sugar just to a boil in a small heavy saucepan, stirring occasionally.

Lightly whisk eggs in a medium bowl, then add half of hot milk mixture in a slow stream, whisking constantly. Pour back into saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until custard coats back of spoon and registers 170�F on an instant-read thermometer (do not let boil). Pour custard through a fine-mesh sieve into a large bowl, then stir in cooled caramel.

Chill custard, stirring occasionally, until very cold, 3 to 6 hours.

Do the ice cream maker thing.  (it will still be quite soft), then transfer to an airtight container and put in freezer to firm up.  Use the BIG spoon.  Try to share.