A Good Walk

The sun is out and seems to have rewound the calendar about a month.  I'm so grateful for this "indian autumn" (such a time must exist, right?) because I took fall for granted.  Now I get to go back and revel in warm sunshine, the smell of leaves on the ground and things like ferns and moss on logs.  Those things were hidden under snow only a week ago.  Lyle is gradually becoming a country dog as well, but I can tell it is hard for him to let go of his city ways.  He looks around, a little morose, likely feeling the absence of pigeons and careless little children with food.

A Daytrip and Feast

This weekend started with my first Saturday off-work since January and now that it's over Jack and I (and probably Lyle, in his mysterious, doggy way) agree that it was one our best weekends (excluding visitors).

We have a couple of friends, or maybe a 'friend couple'?  Regardless, they are a couple and they are our friends.  Our friends are generous.  They are also fun. Last, but not least, they have a car and a healthy spirit of adventure.  They were having a 'visitor weekend' and invited us along for a hike and some paella in the mountains near Valencia (close to Serra, I think?).

There is nothing like being in a car, climbing switchbacks into the mountains, inhaling Mediterranean-pine breezes and listening to Jamiroquai.  The destination was somewhere that we had never been before.  We scrambled our way up to a magnificent vista where you could see over Sagunt to the ocean.  While we both fear (a lot) for his safety, Lyle appears to be quite the little rock scrambler.  We held him up for an obligatory Lion King picture.  He was not anywhere near the precipice, but I'm not sure he's forgiven me.

It was a wonderful walk around, but our exercise to eating ratio was... let's just say, we ate a lot.  We had traditional, Valencian paella, but decided to opt out of the liver and snails.  So the breakdown was: chicken, rabbit, green beans, garrafo beans.  It was all cooked in a tomato/broth concoction with saffron.   It was easily the best paella we've had so far.   This time, I think I could really taste a spicy flavor that I thought was ginger, but after Amanda said rosemary, I had to smack my forehead a little.  Of course! I really like rosemary, despite the fact that I'm never tempted by the 'lucky' sprigs gypsies sell in the plaza on my way to work.  I cook with it sometimes, but it seems to dominate the flavor of everything it touches.  This was the first time I've had a 'rosemary' dish where the herb was relatively elusive, but it definitely added a little oomph to the paprika.  

Paella is a dangerous dish.  You eat a heaping portion and then, when you can take any more... it's socarrat time.  The best part of the paella (and not just in my opinion) is the tasty part that's left stuck to the bottom of the pan after, it's not exactly burnt... but a little crispier and smokier than the rest.  The traditional way to eat paella is to have the entire family eat from the dish, maybe serving to their plates, maybe not.  This gets intense at socarrat time.  Imagine an entire family of spoons digging at the bottom of the pan.  I apparently have no shame... I got more than my fair share.  

Of all the Valencian cultural traditions, I think the Sunday paella is my favorite.  As my students enthusiastically tell me, the whole family gathers in the garden to tend paella over an open wood flame and then eat it together.  It's about family togetherness.  It's also a little about calculated gluttony.  This combination appeals to me.  Hopefully, in the future, even if I'm far from Valencia, we will have Sunday paellas.  Not every Sunday, but often enough to keep alive this memory of overlooking the Mediterranean next to Jack and Lyle, without any agenda besides savoring the moment.

Re-create the Look: Extreme Edition

I'm not sure how I feel about winter --that is real, snowy, below-zero winter-- anymore.  Growing up it was the most magical New England season.  My best friend, sister and I were sledding- and snow-fort-building-enthusiasts, to say the least.  My mom used to have to drag us inside every couple hours to prevent frostbite.  As a young adult, I devoured books like Dogsong  by Gary Paulsen, which Google Books hilariously labels "Self Help" (perhaps, for twelve-year-old girls wanting to do the Iditarod). Now I wonder if I'll ever choose to live in a place with a real winter again.  I know my younger self would scoff at the no-fun kind of grown-up I've become, but I'm wary of the prospect of shoveling snow and waiting until April to see green.  Yet, there's a small part of my imagination that will always live in the snow.  Not in the real, cold snow, but more like the winter fantasy pictured above, where racing across snow and ice involves a puppy in a designer handbag and a camp as pictured for our destination. (See a slideshow of Eric Valli's campaign for Hermes here, you will not regret clicking, I promise).

Not that designer handbags are really my passion, per se, but puppies and forts are still at the top of my list.  The above via Helena Holmstedt .  Clearly the arctic dog sled is underutilized as a decor piece.  Here's what you need to live the fantasy on a backyard scale:

The classic, flexible flyer with red, powder-coated steel runners.  This is a dream sled of the variety that become family heirlooms and endure their time in the attic between generations with grace.  At 48", I have definitely outgrown this model.  I am not discouraged in the slightest.  Available here (currently out of stock) for around $80.00.

At right is a serious tent.  This is the SpikeII from Montana Canvas via.  Unlike the above, open air version, I'm sure you would stay toasty in there, especially with the addition of the stove.  You could actually camp in this, in the real winter.  It's priced accordingly (around $1000).  To re-create the former, only suitable for fantasy winter, or daytime lounging and cocoa consumption between sled runs, I think a tarp with grommets, some poles, twine and stakes, a princess in the pea mattress would work.

Here's the Coleman NORTHSTAR® INSTASTART™ PROPANE LANTERN.  the lantern resembles those hanging on the side of the tent and looks like it would adequately fulfill my needs for propane lanterns.  I love my little propane stove and the primal exhilaration that comes from cooking something incredibly simple over it.  It reminds me of the Bunsen-burner cooking in A Wrinkle in Time, continuing the YA fiction theme.  I can only imagine that this would do for lighting what that stove does for cooking i.e. make the magic.  For only about $50, I'm sold.  (We also have a few vintage kersosene lanterns around my Mom's house.  They don't burn clean, but when they're lit it's a really special occasion, and they make a great silver lining in any power outage).

 

I couldn't resist.  I don't know much about huskies, but I do know that they *are NOT for every home,* probably not for most dog-friendly homes, in fact.  The kind of dog that is comfortable pulling an arctic sled in a pack for hundreds of miles is a special, special breed.  They need a cooler climate, companionship, mental stimulation and a ton of exercise. That being said, here is a rescue organization for Siberian Huskies in Pennsylvania. (The pictures are from their site)