Love and Other Things Red and Pink

Roses are red

Violets turn black

Come armed with Tollhouse

And they'll welcome you back.

In case you missed it, last weekend was V-day. Since there is no significant "other" in my life at present, I did what all self-respecting single women do--I treated myself well in the absence of a doting sweetheart. And, I WAS good to myself. I went back to Wisconsin to sing with John Lombardo's combo. Actually, I could have had two gigs the night before V-day. All That Jazz was playing in Waunakee for the high school Valentine's Day benefit. But it was Diane Robinson's night to be in the spotlight-- I mean it is Robinson country. Her hubby and our alto man, Sam, directs the band there. It was great to see and play with John Lombardo, Dan Barker, Francis Deck, and Doug Terhune. I REALLY miss these guys and the small groups I work with. What a wonderful, musical night at Monona Terrace. But I've gotten ahead of the story again, and honestly, there are some good parts that deserve telling ....

True Love: Sign #1-Tales of Tollhouse

My V-day verse above is a reference to traveling last Friday. But the story starts in the Muchmore kitchen. As a mom, I occasionally get things right as I did V-day week. Now that I know which drawers I have the knives in, life is feeling less surreal. What I mean to say is, I'm getting more comfortable and familiar with the new digs. In the fall, I often felt like that little round thing in a pin ball machine — ping this way, ping that way. The fall was all about catching up to events rather than proactively anticipating them. So with this new sense of groove, I actually met Valentine's Day prepared instead of reacting to it.

I've always made valentines and had some little goodies for the boys on V-day. The weekend before last, I looked at my calendar and said to myself--if a package is going to get to Philip, you need to plan now. Thomas would be no problem. I'd get to see him. So, what do you get 20 and 23 year old boys that will warm their hearts and make them think dearly of home and their sweet old mom? Tollhouse cookies, of course. This is the one dessert (and the fresh berry birthday cake) that are destined to be the "I remember my Mom used to make.." Now, granted--I don't have a corner on the tollhouse market. But I have made modifications and they DO taste different. You may wonder how you could improve on tollhouse and, my changes may seem like small change--but they are what make our chocolate chip cookies--OUR chocolate chip cookies. Yes, it is little changes that make the difference. Case in point: Philip and my pot roast (aka Grandma Van Bogaert's pot roast).

I had a debate about pot roast with old friend, Mike Esch, last weekend. Any cooks reading this are doubtless rolling their eyes. Pot roast?! What could you possibly do that would fundamentally change a piece of meat, potatoes, carrots, and onions? I use garlic and that disgusted Esch. But I digress. At Christmas, I gave Philip a roast from the farm that my brother, Steve, sent home with me. Philip's been waiting to make it, salivating as he anticipated the tender, juicy beef and au jus soaked vegetables. It is his favorite home meal. I expected to hear how he faired after the fact. Instead, I got a call one night, "Mom, how do you make your roast?" This surpised me. Several Christmases ago, I continued a family tradition begun by my Mom--the family cookbook. Both boys got a binder of time honored and not so historic family table favorites.

True Love: Sign #2-Trips to Kitchens Past

When I was 18 my Mom made me a loose leaf cookbook of all our favorite family recipes along with other information that she thought I should have to live a fully successful cooking life. It was really a scrapbook of my 4-H experiences and a collage of photographs from women's magazines of the early 70's. Mom had cut out pictures from my Ag extension 4-H cooking pamphlets and mouthwatering photos of food from magazines. With her old Smith-Corona portable, she typed out all my favorite family recipes. As time went on, I added other things: friend's recipe cards, letters with favorite foods of old family friends written in their hand, pages from Mom's original personal recipe book, and pages from new favorites the boys and I found on the internet.

In the boy's editions of the "family food binder," I took a more family album approach. I tried to find pictures of family members in the kitchen. I asked Mom and Grandma Pierick to write out some of their popular recipes by hand. And, I included stories about how, why, and when these culinary habits began. I don't kid myself that these will be used daily or even routinely now, but as the boys get settled and married I expect that they will be looked through and referenced if only as a scrapbook. But back to Philip. After reviewing the recipe with him, I waited for word on how things went. When I talked to him the next night, the first thing he asked was, "Mom, did you tell me everything?" Turns out the roast was tasty but not like Mom's. We discussed how new, unseasoned pots and different sources of ingredients can make a difference. Though I wanted him to enjoy a piece of home, I was a little pleased that he couldn't completely duplicate my dish. Mom, Grandma, and I discussed this phenomenon when I was back. Grandma remembered a poppy seed cake her mother made and lamented over never getting the recipe. Like I told Philip, sometimes what makes something mysteriously good is that you didn't make it.

Back to the V-day tollhouse cookies. I got Philip's batch in the mail along with chocolate covered pretzels I forgot at Christmas (don't worry, they are store bought and good until 2015). The night before leaving for Wisconsin, I made another batch to bring to Thomas. I hadn't really thought much about travel arrangements, but once I nestled them in a gallon ziplock I realized these were a precious cargo that would not survive my suitcase or carry on. Despite the annoyance of another something to keep track of, I carried them separately.

True Love: Sign #3-Transporting Tidbits and Other Grand Gestures

I flew out early on February 12. 6am. Felt good. Packed light and preprinted my ticket and boarding pass. I had no time to spare at the airport and was a little flustered heading into security. As the guard handed back my driver's license, one of two women TSA guards to his left looked at me sternly and said, "Mam, we need to run a check on those cookies." My doe in the headlights look must have been good because they immediately started laughing, "Just kidding. Don't let go of those cookies or you'll never see them again."

As I went through gate ticket check and past the flight attendant, the celebrity treatment continued. I was thanked for my thoughtfulness and offered special services to watch the cookies. People smiled and sniffed. (You have no idea how fragrant fresh cookies in a bag can smell until you're sitting with them in a stale airplane.) At one point, I had the attendant and folks in the seats across the aisle actually looking for the cookies which had slipped under the seat as I was coordinating all my belongings. I've never had such an easy time making contact with people. Could not help but laugh to myself. Planning for this blog, I even had the college couple sitting across the aisle snap the shot below. The entire experience had all the charm and fun of my nephew's school project, "Flat Fred."

A few years ago, my California nephew, Charlie, had a school project in which he and his classmates took turns traveling with "Flat Fred." I don't think Fred was his actual name but it will suffice for this telling. Anyway, Fred was a cut-out character and each child had him for two weeks, I think. I think the idea was to be creative while learning geography. Charlie sent Fred to travel with Mom who took him with her on a trip to my house, I think. You were supposed to take pictures of Fred his adventures and tell the story of what he did, with whom, etc.--again, as I remember. Fred attracted lots of attention and made my mother quite popular. Anyway, I'm off track again...but that's what my travels with the cookies reminder me of... The lesson, of course, is travel with small children, animals, or fresh baked cookies IF you are feeling lonely or need attention.

Basking in a Bird's Eye World

There is no better time to fly than day break. Yes, sunsets can be spectacular, but there is something about coming upon a place as it is waking. You have a perspective on the world that you don't have at any other time and a sense that you are in charge of all you see. As my American Eagle approached Chicago at 6am CST on 2/12, I saw the city in luminous light. It was a view that took my breath away. The photo at the top of the blog was my first view. I've always thought the beautiful lighted grid of the city was magical but I'd never seen it that time of day and from that perspective. The dark foreground of Lake Michigan and the sculptural skyline of downtown was really something. A few minutes later, the sky was lightening and a stripe of pale pink lit the horizon. Beautiful!

The descent into Madison was much different — stark and tundra-esque. But sun came soon and before long the it shone so brightly it nearly blinded my light deprived eyes. (We'd had about a day of sun in the previous three weeks.)

Mike Esch picked me up at the airport. While heading out for breakfast, we came across Donna Drive in Middleton. Those Middletonians — smart people.

As it always is when I go back, the weekend was packed and went fast. Friday night Thomas and I ate Japanese. The Hispanic hibachi chef hurled grilled shrimp toward each of us. In an act of sheer humiliation I opened my mouth and ineptly rotated my head like a new born bird clumsily trying to snag the worm dangling from "Mom's" beak -- and missed both times. I hope Thomas enjoyed it. Later, I watched the bad opening ceremonies at Vancouver with Krusiecs and friend, Holly Hart. Saturday I sang with the boys and after took in a movie and late breakfast with good friend, Frank Huitt. On Valentine's Day, I ate comfort food with Mom and Grandma Pierick at the Cottage Cafe, took a country drive with Mom, and had dinner with Thomas before flying out.

True Love and Turns of Luck

A weekend of laughter, singing, and time to just be in the company of people I love was as good as I expected this Valentine's Day or any other in recent years. The face of my youngest was the last I saw as I left relaxed, satisfied, and excited that I still had the President's holiday to enjoy before going back to work. My late flight back meant getting home around 1am. As I turned up the drive, I'll admit to a momentary twinge wondering if my good luck would hold and I would NOT come back to a homeowner crisis. Instead of a bad surprise, I found an unexpected package on my doorstep. Do you ever get over the excitement of an unexpected package? Not me. It was a Valentine's goodie box from my dear, dear friend Bea. Inside were gentle reminders to visit Italy, the land of love, along with assorted fabulous creature comforts. All expressions of true love from someone who knows me well as were other unexpected red day wishes from others near and dear to my heart.

I know there is a lot of grousing about Valentine's Day and romance, but I like it. Love is inherently like creativity. It comes in amazingly diverse ways. My Dad had trouble saying the words but always asked me how my tires were. Mom looks out for and frequently shows up with small items that are my particular delight like terra cotta pots and tea towels with tatted edging. The boys have a history of bringing me black licorice and hazelnut candies on challenging as well as celebration days. This year's V-day remembrances from my good friends are reminders that I am surrounded by people who care no matter how far away I am. I "heart" you all and send wishes back that unexpected surprises of love float your way and much more...