Something new...

You know, I am a big believer that the Universe gives you wonderful possibilities to have grand adventures every day. You just have to be willing to see them. Case in point....pad thai.

I love pad thai. Have since I was first introduced to it a few years ago. We have several Thai restaurants here in Lexington, so I am very lucky that I can find a good plate of it whenever I want it. But, I have often wondered, just how is this stuff made? It obviously has noodles, and veggies and/or whatever proteins you want....but, how is that distinctive flavor created? It is a bit sour, and at the same time a bit hot, and it has a sweet undercurrent to it...it reminds me of something a friend of my son's said one evening when I made tiramisu for dessert...."I thought only God could make that!"

Finally, last week, I decided it was time to learn how to make it...and goodness, was it an adventure!

A few clicks of the keyboard and I had tons of recipes to choose from. All seemed pretty close to the same, so I made a list, and set out to find the ingredients on my lunch hour. Piece of cake to find the ingredients....except for a very elusive one, tamarind paste. I looked on every possible shelf at the grocery, and could not find it, and it is apparently a key ingredient. This meant I was going to have to find an Asian grocery. Upon getting back to work, a bit more research, and I found one was just a couple of streets away. Great for stopping by after work.

Now, I have been in the Asian section of the local grocery stores, but never in a REAL Asian market and, after having gone to one, I now have a much healthier respect for people of here countries who move here without a really, REALLY good grasp of our language. Very little in this market was written in English, why would it be, it is an Asian market. But here is something I didn't expect, few things had photos of what they were on the container. Thank goodness the proprietor was able to show me where the tamarind was. Once that was in hand, I wandered around the shelves. How strange and exotic it all seemed. There are two very long shelves filled with only noodles of every type, at least 20 different types of spring roll and egg roll wrappers. And, in the back of the store, on ice, there are very strange and bizarre display of what I think were various meats. I think they were meats anyway, they may well have been alien body parts. To say it was daunting is making light of it. But, it was fascinating too. I have no idea what half of the things in the store are, but I'll learn. I have a few thoughts about making some confections with red bean paste....but that's for another blog...back to the pad thai for the moment...

I gathered all of my ingredients (the wine isn't in the recipe, but it does make the cooking of it funnier)...it's really a very simple recipe, and there is an abundant number of them online. I used the one I found here, more or less. Since I hadn't found "tamarind paste", the first step was to figure out how to make the "wet tamarind" into a usable paste. I was looking at a block of dark brown stuff, "seedless" stuff, (considering all the parts of seeds I found in it, I wonder what the seeded type would be like), stuff that I had never seen in a kitchen in my entire life, thinking, "What in the world do I do with it?"

Again, the internet to the rescue. Turns out you have to put it in hot water and sort of "work it" with your fingers. After you add the hot water, you let it set for a while, to soften. Once softened, you mush it up, fingers work best (don't they always?) then you strain it very well through a fine sieve. Hmmm...interesting....icky, and strange to me, but interesting.


I made the sauce using the tamarind paste, some fish sauce (ewwwwwww, how can this be good?), Thai chili sauce and some sugar. The recipe doesn't call for it to be cooked before you use it, but several of the methods I read suggested it would be best to heat it at least until the sugar melted. Seems like a job for the microwave...so in it went. Gotta love what a microwave can do in 30 seconds.





From here, it was simple...add the rice noodles to the water to let them soften for a few minutes and drain. Toss some oil in the skillet, add a bit of garlic, a few of the bean sprouts (save some to toss in after it is cooked for a wonderful, crisp, crunch), and the drained noodles. Stir a bit....move them to the side of the skillet or wok. Beat the egg up a bit, and toss it in the area you just opened in the pan. It's just like doing a regular stir fry.

And, there you have it, pad thai. It looks like the pad thai I find in a restaurant....it smells like the pad thai I find in a restaurant....and, after tasting it, I can happily report that, it even tastes like the pad thai I find in a restaurant...Yeah me! A success! And, and adventure....
Now, IF I ever figure out the labels on the stuff in the Asian market....and can learn to tell which is the red bean paste, I'm going to give a go to the confections....for now, I'm going to enjoy my pad thai, and the peaches with basil I fixed for dessert....Until next time...

Life is like a roller coaster...

The last couple of weeks have definitely been a wild ride. Life gets really busy sometimes with all the responsibilities of family and work and living. Sometimes you just have to leave it all behind and go ride a roller coaster. Last week I took a day off and did just that. Took the little one (who, of course, is not so little these days), and her friend David, to King's Island for the day.

Kate, the "little one", has loved roller coasters for a very long time. She was five or six when she just barely cleared the height requirements for The Big Bad Wolf at Busch Gardens Williamsburg. It wasn't my idea that she ride it, it was hers, I was filled with trepidation at the thought, but she's always been a bit headstrong....cannot imagine where that came from...and she was determined to go. My fear was that it would put her off of roller coasters forever. When we got off, she looked white and a bit stunned, and seemed a bit wobbly in the knees. I asked her what she thought, and she looked up at me with those big brown eyes, surrounded by her little blond curls, and she breathlessly gushed, "Let's do it again Mommy!". So we did, and again after that just for good measure. I think her love affair with coasters was firmly rooted that day. I just read where they are retiring The Big Bad Wolf in September. A part of her history closed. I hope she will always remember it fondly.

This year Kings Island (just north of Cincinnati, Ohio) opened "Diamondback". This steel roller coaster is 5,282 feet long, has a 230 foot lift hill, and a 215 foot first drop. It features 10 drops, and speeds that hit 80 mph. It also features staggered seating, something that was new to me. What I found out is that the seats are arranged so that everyone on the ride has a pretty good view of the ground coming at you fast when going down one of the drops, if you are brave enough to keep your eyes open on the way down that is. You are held in your seat by nothing more than a lap harness which made me wonder if I were going to be able to stay in my seat as I was plunging down that 215 foot drop toward the hard ground below. How can you not love it....right?

As soon as we got into the park we got in line. The line moved quickly, and in no time at all we were seated and being pulled up that hill. Seeing nothing but the blue sky and white clouds ahead of me as I move toward the impending drop that my daughter has told me is about 19 degrees off vertical...I wonder..."What the heck am I doing here?????" This was kinda like when I was in the middle of giving birth to my first child, panting like I was taught in the Lamaze class, and thinking "when exactly did this having a kid thing seem like a good idea???"....

Before I knew it I was at the top, and could see the seats ahead of me going over the hump of the hill. There was no turning back, so I did what any sane person would do...I took in what I was sure was my last gulp of air and I screamed as I went over the top, plunging toward certain death, watching the ground rushing up at me faster than I believed possible. I felt myself come out of the seat and I briefly wondered if the lap contraption was going to hold. It did.

If you are not a coaster lover, it is impossible to explain the thrill of the ride. It is such a thrill when you make that first fall, to realize that you have survived it, and go charging up the next hill...and down again...and again. And in the end, after you have rounded all the hills and valleys, when that coaster car finally rolls into the station, with you in one piece...heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through your veins....you come off the ride feeling like you have conquered some mythical dragon, you think..."WOW, I want to do that again!"

I looked at Kate as she exited the coaster, she looked much like she had when she got off that first coaster so many years ago...a bit white, her mouth faintly twitching in the corners, and she looked a bit wobbly in the knees...and she had a grin that covered her whole face...I could tell by the look on her face she was ready to do it again...and again, and again, and again.

I realized one of the great and simple truths about life that day....life really is like a roller coaster. It's filled with the hills and the valleys, the rushing of time forward, and the excitement, and sometimes dread, of what lies ahead, unable to be experienced until you get there...I hope that, in the end, I am able to look back over mine and go..."Wow, what a rush, I would do it all again!."

A welcome break from reality...

After the adventure of last week, a couple of days down in the Smoky Mountains seemed just the ticket to relax and simply breathe deep...and sure enough, it was. We drove down on Monday, it's a very easy drive from here, and only takes about three and a half hours, left early and arrived there close to lunch time.

The mountains ridges sit on the border of Tennessee and North Carolina. They have been home to man since before recorded history. There is an abundance of wild life, plants and trees, and water, making it ideal for those early peoples. Cades Cove is an amazing valley nestled between some of those mountains that became a thriving community for those settlers. The first non-natives arrived between 1818 and 1821, and by 1900 there were 708 residents. You can still see several historic buildings and cabins on the 11 mile driving loop, many are accessible for viewing. The area is not without a dark history as well. Most of the native people, the Cherokee, were driven from this land between 1838 and 1839, forced to Oklahoma on "The Trail of Tears". After many years of hard work to get the area recognized as a National Park, The Great Smoky Mountains National Park was officially dedicated by Franklin D. Roosevelt on September 2, 1940. They are celebrating their 75th year through 2009.

We were simply there to relax and enjoy. Monday, we drove the Cades Cove loop. There were plenty of deer everywhere this year, not to mention tons of wild turkeys too. One of the outbuildings in the area has a warning sign in the door that it is a snake habitat....and sure 'nough.....there at the threshold...say it with me now..."EWWWWWWW". I am so NOT a fan of snakes...but I just could not be outdone by the 5 year old little girl who felt compelled to show me the photo she had taken of it...Kids, what'cha gonna do?

There was also a barn swallow making its nest in the building that had been a general store. She was there last year as well. (Let's hope she and the snake never meet.) There was a buck (male deer for those of you who don't know), I counted about 8 "points"....exactly that, points on his antlers that extended right out back in the blackberry brambles. Unfortunately, I didn't get a good photo of him, he was pretty much surrounded by people already. I am amazed every time I am there how the animals react to people....I always feel totally ignored.


My daughter on the other hand....she made a very interesting friend. At one point during the drive a black and orange butterfly flew into the window and made himself right at home on her fingers...and then her nose. He liked her so much that I had to make her put him back outside the car before we left the area. This wasn't her first encounter with butterflies. When she was very young we were on the farm at my mothers, and there were butterflies all over a lilac bush that was blooming. She went over to look at them and they settled all over her. She was a wash in huge blue and black and orange butterflies...they just covered her. It seemed like both she and the butterflies were giggling as she twirled round and round. The moment this one came into the car he was named (a very bad habit she has...once a creature is named, you cannot get rid of it, it is part of the family)...he was christened "Bartholomew". We miss Bartholomew...

Our second morning was spent hiking 1.3 miles up a mountain to see Laurel Falls. It's one of the most popular falls in the park, and always very difficult to find a spot to park in at the trail head. We decided to go early, and still had difficulty finding a spot. We were quite taken with how really friendly people were who were coming down the trail. EVERYONE was smiling, saying hi or good morning...a stark contrast to Kate who, about the half way mark going up was threatening to shove me over the edge. The park lists it as a "moderate" hike...I have to wonder who determined that. The expectations were high, I heard her muttering something further up the trail about if the falls weren't spectacular there was still a chance I might be going over. They must have been ok, I'm still here. We did discover why people are so friendly though...the walk down was great after that hike up...you can't help but be friendly and say hello to everyone. The 1.3 miles down the hill seemed so much shorter. My daughter made the comment that she would hike so much more often if the trails all were downhill. I think she may be onto something there, I'm just not sure how it could be arranged. The rest of the day was spent shopping and eating, then eating and shopping. Then a relaxing dip in the hot tub...and a well earned rest.

I woke very early this morning and sat out on the screened porch to watch the sun rise. Through the night several spiders had taken up residence between the porch posts and there were perfectly formed webs collecting drops of early morning dew. When the first rays of sun came between the trees, it looked as though some magic hand had hanged diamonds and they were sparkling there on the porch. It's always an interesting part of the morning when you are sitting quietly, listening to the night sounds of the tree frogs give way to the sounds of the birds waking. Gentle breeze blowing...a good cup of coffee in hand....the sun breaking its way through the darkness of the night... It reminds me yet again what a miracle this little spot in the universe is....and how blessed I am to be a tiny part of it.

Back to reality tomorrow...a bit more rested, a great deal more refreshed...a little more insightful...and hopefully, more thankful....maybe even a bit more creative...

Gone too soon...

I attended a funeral over the weekend. My ex lost his sister Tuesday night to a stroke. Funeral culture differs everywhere, and if you ever want to get a taste of the funeral culture I grew up with check out the movie Elizabethtown. I watch that movie and could tell you who each character in the movie would be if we were looking at my family. I actually heard the very same audible gasp that went around those present in the movie when the character Drew explained his father wanted to be cremated...when I made the comment to my ex's family that I wanted to be cremated...it's just something you don't do where I come from. What would they decorate come "Decorating Day" if there is no headstone for me?

My ex grew up with a very similar funeral culture, and he is the youngest in a very large family, so we'd been through this a couple of times. I felt pretty confident that I knew what to expect. I was wrong. There was the traditional greeting of those you only see during a funeral, the expected tears and kind words about his sister (who really was an absolutely lovely person), and more drama than the norm.

When you go into a funeral in the part of the country you are never totally sure if you are going to hear a eulogy or a preachin'....(which differs greatly from a sermon, mostly in the passion with which it is delivered). This turned out to be a "Come to Jesus" sermon quite close to a revival.

The outwardly quiet preacher began by reading the obituary. In his nervousness one of the relatives left behind was forgotten (a half sister that I have only met when attending funerals). Keep in mind...when I say large family, counting this half-sister we are talking about a dozen children...I'd probably make a mistake too. She promptly registered her disappointment in being left off the list by leaning over to "whisper" to someone about it. Loud enough that the entire gathering heard. Now, being who I am, I give her the benefit of the doubt that perhaps her hearing is going, and she spoke louder than she meant to because she didn't realize how loud it was.

The preacher called for the bowing of heads for a prayer. As it began, a first visit to the casket occurred. Where I grew up, the practice of an open casket is observed. This affords all sort of possibilities that I never want to think of...and, as luck would have it, this time, none of them came to fruition. The sister sat back down without much of an incident.

As the prayer finished, a gentleman stepped from those in attendance and announced that it had been requested he sing a song. Just in time for another of the sisters to have "a spell". (In all seriousness, I'd been concerned about her since we had met at the hospital on Tuesday, she exhibited signs of a stroke herself, and was adamant about NOT allowing any of the doctors to examine her.) She began to slide off of her pew as family members rushed to her side. She was carried out of the service, with a great deal of the family in tow as the gentleman finished his song. I'm still not certain if the look on his face was one of concern, or if he was just upset that the ruckus had taken the attention from his task at hand.

At this point, the preacher seemed to sense that "the spirit" had come to the gathering, and it overtook him. It began with a twitch of his head, and before I knew it, he was preaching with all the "a-hems" and gasps of breath that only a charismatic preacher can give. He had a message to deliver, and he was delivering it in all his glory. Complete with the "a-hems", "hallelujahs", and "amen brothers", in all the right places. Sadly, the message was more about "you best find Jesus, 'cause we are all gonna be dead", rather than one of condolence for the family. But he did deliver it in a manner he can be proud of. I'm not sure how many really paid attention to the message though, most were glued to what was happening outside with the sister and her spell. An ambulance had arrived to take her to the local emergency room.

All in all, for a funeral that disintegrated into chaos within the first 3 minutes, it was quite a show.

There were positive aspects in all of this. No one even really noticed the husband (that no one has really ever liked and everyone has always been a bit suspicious of anyway) and he made a pretty fast get away without any confrontations. Everyone was so concerned about the sister who had been taken to the hospital that it kept any other emotionally charged confrontations out of the day. (That sister is still in the hospital by the way, tests are continuing to be run, with nothing showing up yet.) And, it has given us all something to talk about at the ones to come in the future.

It has also given me pause to think...

I grew up in a very poor, rural, really under educated area of the country. People that I deal with are often very shocked to find that my roots are in an area that has the "hillbilly" stereotype. My roots don't run as deep as many and I actually moved to a larger city (not so far away, so those roots do still have a hold) while so many stay there all their days. I've always had a great appreciation for different people and cultures, while "my people" can be insular and protective of their culture. It isn't that they don't appreciate others, it's more that outsiders are untrusted, and a bit strange (not to mention how strange it can all look to outsiders I'm sure). We do things a bit different in the country....sort of like people do things a bit different wherever they are from.

Even the language is different in the foothills of Appalachia, I've read a couple of studies that suggest you are bi-lingual if you understand it. It isn't because of a lack of education, it is because the Appalachians became a true melding point of many cultures and their language was Incorporated into the region, as were their cultures. There are others though who make a living from that language. If you have never read any of the works of Silas House, I highly recommend them. He has an insight into the culture that is worth a look.

It had been some time since I had gone home, and some time since I had really given thought to my own culture. We are different, and somewhat backward about some things...but, it is a rich culture. One filled with the music of the mountains, a somewhat haunting music created by the instruments people could make (google "hammered dulcimer"). Household items created from the things at hand that not only produced beautiful items, but useful items that are works of art in themselves. And it is a culture filled with wonderful, heartfelt people who often have struggled with a difficult life, and who have become better people for that struggle. I realize the gift that my culture has given me, now that I am older and can see how much more rich my life is because of it.

I will miss my friend Viola, and I will cherish the memories I have of her and try to honor her in my own actions. And I will be forever grateful for the chance this has afforded me to think about my own culture, and once again realize how lucky I am to have been born into it.

The Fourth...

I'm belated, but Happy Birthday America! Lexington is the 67th largest town in America, a fact that surprises me really. When I moved here, what seems like a hundred years ago, we had a population of 35,000. Estimates now put us at about 250,000. And that doesn't count the students who attend the University of Kentucky and Transylvania, the two universities located here in town. We really are a small town at heart. And you just cannot find anything more fun than a small town parade, especially one that celebrates our country's birthday.

The weather here on the 4th was a tad cloudy and rainy, and very cool to be July. I don't think we even broke 80 degrees. The weather didn't dampen the spirits of everyone who wandered downtown to enjoy the festivities. Near mid-day my daughter and I made our way down for the parade, but later that night when it came time for the fireworks we chose to skip standing in the rain to watch them.
We took up our usual positions on the first floor of the parking garage generally reserved for those visiting the Urban
County Government. In years past it has allowed us to have great views from a shady location that often has a cool breeze blowing through it. This year the shade wasn't needed, but the location is still great...although, the street trees are starting to grow a bit tall, we may need to go to the second level next year for a view uninterrupted by those growing trees. Although, I will miss the view of the dangling feet from the floor above...

Lexington Police cleared the streets and the parade began right on time, the banner proclaiming Lexington's Fourth of July Parade was proudly carried by local Boys Scouts, and our Grand Marshall was a veteran from D-Day. We shared our pride in our city and our country with each other, as only a small town can. We showed off our Veterans, our police officers, and our superheros....

We celebrate what we have in common...

And the differences that make us unique...
We grieve for our fallen...
And we hope for our future...
And, most of all, we celebrate what it means to be a part of this great nation...
Happy Birthday America....may our light forever shine.

YUM....warm, soft, homemade pretzels...

What could be yummier? I'm lucky enough to have today off from work since the holiday falls on a Saturday, and the weather here is absolutely beautiful today. It's a bit after 5:00 pm as I begin to write this post, and it's a whopping 71 degrees and almost no humidity. Unheard of here this time of the year. My daughter and I decided today would be a wonderful day to try our hands at making soft pretzels (ANY excuse not to clean house, right?).

These were much easier than I expected, and have turned out to be quite the success, so I thought I'd share with everyone. The recipe is very simple...but makes a massive amount of dough. I cut the recipe in half and still came away with 6 very large pretzels, feel free to double it again if you need more.

3/4 cup very warm water
2 teaspoons dry yeast
2 cups of plain flour (I used bread flour)
1/3 cup of powdered sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vegetable oil (I used olive oil)
Kosher or pretzel salt, or cinnamon sugar to top with



This could not be more simple. Proof your yeast by adding 1 teaspoon of the powdered sugar and all of the yeast into a small bowl or cup and add 1/4 cup of the very warm water. Let it sit a few minutes until it gets "fuzzy". You can put the oil into this when you are ready to add the wet ingredients to the dry.



Sift the dry ingredients together into a bowl, and dump in the wet ingredients. At this point, if you are working with a mixer, use the bread hook, and incorporate the ingredients. Allow it to "knead" for about 5 minutes. If you are not using a mixer, blend the ingredients and knead on a lightly floured surface until the dough is smooth and elastic (about 10 minutes). Kate watched it very carefully to make sure it didn't try to leave the bowl while it was being kneaded.

The dough is finished when it looks like the one in the bowl at the top right of the pics above. Oil the dough a bit so it will not stick to the sides of the bowl while it rises. When my Italian grandmother made bread she always "blessed" it by poking a cross into it before she set it aside to rise. Her mother taught her to do that, and my daughter has watched me do it over the years, so I am pretty sure it will carry on. I love the traditions that are passed from generation to generation, it somehow keeps my grandmother close to me and allows me to share her with my daughter who never knew her. The photo in the lower right shows the dough set to the side to rise for 45 minutes.

Nearing the end of the 45 minutes you need to prepare a soda bath for the pretzels. Pour a few inches of water into a dutch oven and add 1/2 cup of baking soda to it. Bring it to a simmer. After the dough has risen 45 minutes, lightly punch it down and cut into 6 to 8 individual pieces (we went with 6 this time, I'd go with 8). Roll them into very skinny ropes and do the pretzel loop thing. (Kate does a great job with her first pretzel...a natural!) This is a good time to heat your oven to 425 degrees.
Dip them in the simmering soda bath and put them on a cookie sheet so you can bake them. If you are making salted pretzels while they are moist sprinkle them with the salt. Bake for about 4 minutes, then turn your pan around and bake another 4 to 5 minutes. These turn out the most beautiful golden color, and smell AMAZING while they are baking. Definitely worth a try....I don't think you can mess the recipe up. Until next time everyone....enjoy the simple things in life..like hot pretzels and time spent with your daughter....

One Lovely Blog Award...

Ok, the past couple of weeks have been amazingly busy and I haven't had the opportunity to pass along the blog award I received from TLC Inspirations and Inspirations by Stella. The ground rules are that, when you receive the award, you pass it on to 15 bloggers and list those blogs on your site. So....here goes....

I received the "One Lovely Blog" award from both InspirationsByStella AND TLC Inspirations, and I so appreciate their kindness!

Rules of Blog Award Acceptance:
1. Accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award, and his or her blog link.
2. Pass the award to 15 other fabulous blogs. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

Here are 15 of my current favorite blogs (in absolutely no particular order):
1. Got Ants In My Pants
2. Stockannette
3. God's Art Work
4. The Krazy Kraft Lady
5. Make Mine Primitive
6. Prim and Proper Folk
7. Sunrise Acre Farms
8. Life in the Craft Lane with Mandie
9. The Vintage Polka Dot
10. Art Unstructured
11. A Time 4 Art
12. Oh That's So Cute
13. Nichole's Homemade Treats
14. KC's Handpainted Boutique
15. Snugglebug Blessings

Check them all out!

Oh my gosh....

Oh my gosh, I just got the sweetest note from an Etsian, Stockannette, I was the 100th Heart she received for her Etsy shop, and she wanted to let me know she was going to feature me on her blog! How darned nice is that?


Seems only fair to share some of her stuff with you! (For a full view of her Etsy shop I've linked it to her name above)...go visit her, say hi....you never know where it can all lead!



Aren't these tags just too cute?












And, if you want to know what this is...
go check it out in her Etsy shop!

And, thanks again Stockannette!




News flash....after actually paying attention...I have to thank Michelle at DreamTimeHarvest over at Etsy it seems SHE was the one who featured me on a treasury there...Stockannette found one of my items in that treasury...she hearted me, I hearted her, next thing you know I am on her blog...and here we are...Whew! Check out Michelle's soaps, they are really, REALLY cool (not to mention gorgeous too, look at the really cool ones in the pic below!)