Pasta with a side of sadness

Like everyone, I think, I associate certian foods with certian people (no? Is this just me? ...).  My sister with Chicken Picatta,  My grandmom with navy bean soup, My Auntie Ange with salmon spread (and Ange Dip), Julie with Velveeta dip, Lisa with Spedie Chicken Pizza... the list goes on.  Mostly because these are the signature things that these people make, and that for me, the very best version of them I've had is theirs.  It forms a taste memory for me, and when I try to make the dish that is "theirs"  I always seem to fall short.  It is tasty, but it's not quite the same as when they make it.  (this could possibly be because I am pretty incapable of making a dish, especially a savory one, without monkeying around with it a little).

There are dishes that remind me of people that I haven't been able to make, because it is too hard- the memory makes me too sad, and when I think about it, I get a lump in my throat, and have to think about something else.  Rye bread with butter and a cup of tea. Breaded chicken wings, apple pie. These are all things that remind me of my Nana so much that if I close my eyes, I can almost see her, walking into my parents' house, arms full of chicken wings, ready for the superbowl party.  Or sitting at her dining room table, with a steaming hot cup of tea, wating for it to cool so it doesn't scald my mouth, and eating a piece of rye bread that has an almost obscene amount of butter on it. Someday, maybe, I'll be able to make these things, but not any day soon.

I have been thinking about my Auntie Jack a lot lately. I can't believe so much time has passed since she's been gone. I miss so many things about her, her sense of humor, her kindness, and her strength.  She, like all of the women in my family, was a great cook. She made lots of great things, but most of what sticks in my head is her orzo salad, her caramel brownies, and her breaded tomato pasta.  Her tomato pasta may have in fact come from her Italian husband Ralph, but I always associate it with her. (Just like I associate donuts from a bakery in North Jersey with Ralph)

My friend Lesley came to visit from Frostburg last night, and when I was thinking about what to make, I surveyed my cabinets, and I had all the ingredients for the breaded tomato pasta.  I didn't have a recipe to go from, but I stumbled my way through it, breading the tomatoes with panko breadcrumbs, sauteeing them in the pan, and setting the angel hair pasta to boil.   I mixed the pasta in with the tomatoes, and served it with salad and bread.  It wasn't as good as hers (I didn't think it would be) but it reminded me of her, and it was pretty decent.

Someday I'll try to attempt her caramel brownies.

Auntie Jack's Breaded Tomato Pasta

4 tomatoes, (on the smaller side) Sliced
2 cloves of garlic
A cup and a half of italian style panko breadcrumbs
1/2 cup shredded parmesano reggiano
1 egg
1tbsp milk
salt
Pepper.
Olive oil for the pan
1/2 package angel hair pasta

Procedure: Put water for pasta on to boil.

Take sliced tomatoes, and lay out on paper towels to dry Pat dry.  mix egg and milk, put in a bowl.  mix cheese and breadcrumbs and salt and pepper, and put in seperate bowl. dip tomato slices in egg and breadcrumbs.  Dice garlic, heat up skillet with oil.  put garlic in pan, then  slices of tomato in (do not overcrowd pan, do in two batches if not enough room).   when tomatoes are done, set aside on plate.

Drain pasta, and toss with tomatoes and a little olive oil. I put a little extra grated cheese on here too.

Serve!

A Decade ago

When I was in fourth grade, We got these bright yellow folders, that had in large writing, CLASS OF 2000! Scrawled across the front.  all sorts of information was tucked into the folder, probably about our promising futures, and our lives that were to be full of success and joy and happiness, because we had the dubious distinction of being in the class of the new millennium.

Ten years ago today, I graduated from high school. Full of nervous anticipation, I boarded the school bus at my high school, (our graduation ceremonies were located at a local college) I was tapping my feet, and trying to concentrate on not falling on my face in front of a couple hundred people (mission: accomplished!)  but the whole time I was distracted.   I had gotten a phone call earlier in the day from the Director of Emergency Services for the American Red Cross Chapter that I volunteered for, asking me If i wanted to go to North Dakota for three weeks to help out with flood relief. And oh, by the way, the flight leaves tomorrow.  I said yes, and was mentally packing during most of the ceremony.  It all kind of passed in a blur, and then it was over, and I was on a plane.

When I graduated high school, I had a plan. I was going to volunteer with the Red Cross in the summer, I was going to work at Great Adventure, and in the fall, I was going to start my Americorps year with City Year in Rhode Island. I had direction, and purpose, and I was going to do good things.

I think a lot of people look on their past selves, and kind of smile, and shake their heads, and think about how confused they were. And in some respects, That girl who was 18 and about to grow up pretty fast didn't know what she was doing. But on the other hand, I think of what that 18 year old would think about where my life is now.  And I think it would make her sad.

In order to make my 18 year old self less sad at my life, I have realized I need A Plan.  A Plan to make things better, and to work on the things that make me unhappy. Part of my inertia, I think, is not really knowing what I want to do, and kind of letting the status quo stand, until i figure it out. Well, nothing is going to change If I don't make some choices, and take some chances. So that's what I'm going to work on this summer.

And like I told Potter, when he wanted to shave his head like a Cue-ball last night, you only live once.

*And Happy Birthday to Andrea, my friend and High School classmate, who had her birthday on our graduation day, which had to have sucked.  Joyeux anniversaire !  (I would link to her blog, but she doesn't have one. She should though!)

Things that make me sad

I love music.  I especially love the singer-songwriter, girl (or guy) with a guitar music. To the chagrin of my friends and family, I tend to become a little bit... myopic in my relentless love of a certian cd/artist, and listen to them nonstop until I move onto the next one.  I recently have been listening to some new stuff - Jonathan Coulton, specifically, and it makes me wish that I had some musical ability of my own. I always feel this way after house concerts too- a kind of restlessness that some part of me wants to be able to write songs that have meaning and are beautiful.

The part that makes me sad is that I have zero musical ability. I am practically tone deaf,  I can't keep a beat, and I've tried the guitar, and cannot make my hands work in the way that makes guitar playing possible. I can enjoy music, and I sing along off key, and I can dance allong off beat, but in terms of making my own music, I'm at a loss.

I recently was doing some writing and came up with what I thought would be good song lyrics.  I sat down and tried to figure out some sort of melody for them for like an hour, and at the end of the hour, I was just an hour older and more frustrated.  I guess it is just destined to become a poem, unless someone has some awesome musical skillz that likes to write music.

Anybody?