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Eating love and things that make me happy

One of the constants in my life is using the making of food to express emotion. The "tag team" bread
so often made in our home, started by one of us,
kneaded, by another, shaped by another

 and baked by a third person often functions as a wordless conversation between me and my boys.  When we sit down to eat the bread,we will often discuss the various attributes of the loaf and discuss what each of us added to the process.

Last Friday was our friend Mike's birthday. We wanted to be sure that he knew how fond we are of him. I made an ice cream cake  (pomegranate ginger ice cream studded with bits of candied orange) and decorated it.


Yes, he got the message.

While I often express my feelings in edible form as the people who sit at our table --I hope-- recognize it isn't often that I am on the receiving end of such messages.

This past Sunday we were invited to the home of dear friends. We used to spend lots of time together but life and work and lots of obligations means that we can't spend as much time together as we would like. Our friends invited lots of people that they love for Sunday's feast.

Our friend Ira served brisket that he had smoked. My older son asked for the recipe.


It's three pages of directions and takes two weeks. When I arrived to the party Ira was slicing up one of the briskets in the kitchen. After I gave Ira a hug he plopped a tiny bit of brisket into my mouth. It was condensed essence of meat. I slowly chewed that bit of meat and tasted all of the love and care that went into it.

When I read Ira's directions it made me realize how much he loved all of us to take so long and to take so much care to feed us.( of course this  includes all of the many, many dishes made by Patti)

We brought some meat home for our youngest who had to work. I watched him eat his smoked meat with a thoughtful intensity. He too was tasting all of that love.

I want to end this post with a few things that delight me.

Both my husband and I misread this Iowa licence plate  and thought it says "Froom", religious in Yiddish.




I love how the table runner my daughter bought in China for my parents looks so great with a table cloth I made a few years ago. It is somehow so Chinese to combine prints if the colors go together.

The other day the clouds looked like they came from the opening credits of The Simpsons.


I have a pretty low threshold for amusement. 


I finally remembered to take a photo of a slice of challah where each strand is rolled with spices.


Flowers peeking behind a wrought iron fence a couple of blocks from my house.


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