What do you mean, what is this?? It's ice kreme!
"It looks like something the dogs ate -- and gave back."
Real funny! You mean like a technicolor lunch??
Technicolor lunch. That's Aussie for lunch 'the second time around'...
"Wow, this is delicious. What's in it??"
"So that's Aussie for..."
Nothing. It's French for blueberries :)
And it is absolutely delicious. J says it's now his favorite (till the next flavor). And much more colorful than the photo shows...and just a tad bluer than your teeth, gums, and lips will look after a bowlful :)
I remember years ago reading an account by Martha Stewart about how she'd served one of the European queens (Beatrix, maybe??) visiting the US a lovely pie made with some Concord grapes. She was proud to be able to showcase the fragrant purple globes in a typical American dessert: Flaky pastry, oozing a brilliant filling, topped with some whipped cream. Can't you just imagine the perfect plate and pie fork that Martha would have chosen for serving the pie? Yumm, who wouldn't want a slice?!
And then, to her horror, she realized why one does not serve blue desserts to royalty or any other important dignitary -- as people smiled at eachother they displayed lips and teeth stained, albeit temporarily, a dingy, washed-out shade of indigo.
Well, I'm here to tell you that eating this blueberry ice kreme will produce similar results. But if everybody eats some, it'll be like when everybody eats raw onions: nobody will really care. Except that everybody will want more of this kreme. Which is what J is counting on...
"I think we should sell this stuff. Really!"
We could call it Technicolor Lunch flavor.
"I'm serious, Banana. Get a booth at the farmers market in Bueny. Make this out of organic bluebs. Give people a taste of this in these, you know, little sample cup things, and then have some ready and some churning. And we could make plum jam. How much do you think we should charge?" he continues as I'm scraping the rest of the ice kreme out of the freezer bowl.
I'm wondering how we're going to squeeze our farmers market ice kreme business in with raising and spinning alpaca wool, running a B&B, climbing 14ers, building greenhouses for our year-round organic garden, holding knitting retreats, breathing, and teaching our old dogs new tricks.
I think I know how Rohrschach felt when he created his inkblots. They throw people off momentarily. They're derailing. Hand them an inkblot, they stop on a dime and give you that blind-sided "what's this?" look. His point exactly.
I hand J his second bowl of ice kreme and ask him what it looks like.
Well, here's how I made Rohrschach's Technicolor Lunch Kreme last night :)
In the blender, whiz about 1 cup of blueberries, a spritz of lemon juice, some sweetener (sugar, honey, maple syrup, stevia -- I used 2 packets of stevia and a spoon of wildflower honey, but use whatever turns you on), and some coconut milk, maybe 3/4 of a cup -- enough to be able to blend the berries. When it's a uniformly crazy blue, add 1 cup or so of coconut cream. Pour into the ice cream maker and let that baby churn.
Enjoy...and don't forget to smile :)
It's 1968 and Poesie Albums are all the rage at our all-girls prep school in Traunstein. Guess they're one of those things that "fad" in and out over generations. Leather-bound albums that were circulated among friends who decorated the pages with little drawings, poetry, maybe a "wish you were here" postcard, and signed and dated in friendship....or more.
I have one that belonged to my great aunt Marie, filled with art nouveau and stylized flowers, wreaths, etc. Sweet memories of friends…
I have one that my grandfather gave to my grandmother when they married. Has all sorts of drawings and little watercolors, along with love poems pledging eternal devotion. Ultimate proof that paper is patient - Papier ist geduldig.
My own is a red leather diary-like album, complete with lock & key. My mom drew a beautful tiny Japanese crane lifting in flight, with the words: Verzeih den anderen alles, Dir selber nichts. (Forgive others everything, yourself nothing.)
My sister drew some lovely blue morning glories cascading over a wall, with the poem ending in the words, "The truest joys they seldom prove who free from quarrels live. 'Tis the most tender part of love eachother to forgive."
These two "posts" are etched in my mind and I think of them often. Not that I've always followed the good counsel, but if I stray from the path, I try to get myself back in line.
Of all the beautiful & sentimenal writings and drawings in all the albums, one comes to mind as frequently as all the others put together. Maybe it's because it's what the writer put into each person's album that she wrote in:
Roughly translated as: “Just when think you can’t go on, from somewhere a light will appear.”
I repeated that phrase more than once going up Mt. Yale last week. A tough slog, seemingly straight up, with some slippery troughs near the summit. Whenever I thought “this is the last step I’m taking in the summit direction,” I’d tell myself, immer wenn Du denkst es geht nicht mehr… and like magic, I’d make it a few more steps.
Made me think of climbing Mt. Belford last year. I was so out of shape; had not trained – had not even walked the dogs – in the weeks leading up to that climb. Halfway up the switchbacks I wondered what in the world I was doing there. Well, the wondering probably started when we hit the trail at 3 a.m. that morning, but it hit me like a ton of bricks halfway up the mountain. Labored breaths, a summit that I did not seem to be closing in on, a chilly wind that had my lips numb, and an exposed trail that had about a 500’ drop on the left side…and this guy walks up behind me…says what a great day it is to be up on the mountain.
“I’m so tired,” I said, “and I have a terrible fear of heights.”
“Step softly,” he said. “Try to step without making a sound. It’ll help. And, if you need to, hold my hand.”
Truer words were never spoken about climbing or hiking. It didn’t really make the climb easier, or the grade less steep. But it made me slow down and focus on making it easier for myself, to quit chafing. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot…all the way to the top.
Life is not always easy. Sometimes we have that tough uphill climb, revel on the summit, and then realize we’ve still got to make it down – using a whole nother set of muscles.
Step softly…and just when you think you can’t go on, wait for that light to appear…