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Guest rooms

Since I’ve been monkeying around with the bedding in our guest rooms I wanted to do a post on them. But then I cannot take a decent picture to save my life (darn gloomy lighting). And when I look closely as the ones I do take I suddenly see flaws in the room that aren’t visible to the naked eye. Take that side table. How skimpy is that?

Case in point about two second after taking that picture I bumped it gently and sent the little pot of flowers flying and the glass I had it in shattered into a million pieces. Also the sconce thingie above the bed. Yuck on the gold – I took them both down and painted them cream colored. Much better – more like old plaster.

I take our guest rooms seriously. I want people that end up sleeping here to have a sense of ‘ahh – it’s so nice to be here.’ instead of wishing they were at home in their own bed. The beds are comfortable, so I’ve been told. In fact one sister sleeps in so late when she visits that we crank up the heat in an effort to flush her out in the morning. Hmm ~ that’s not sounding very hospitable, is it?

We live a couple of hours away from our family so when we do get together it is almost always for an overnight stay. It’s in my best interest to make them want to come back. I like to put a framed picture of whomever is staying in the room to make it feel homey to them. I don’t know if that works or if it just comes across as calculated. Look ~ it’s my dad on a pony. Actually that picture stays up all the time.

What I should invest in is one of those schmancy cappuccino makers. We aren’t coffee drinkers in my house and I never remember to get fresh coffee or how to use my 1/2 cup coffee maker so I end up offering up stale, not very well made coffee in the morning.

So come visit! I can guarantee a comfy bed, bad coffee and picture of yourself on your wobbly bedside table.

Mix by hand

It’s hard to move on from the lovely pinkness of the previous post. Especially since in real life the roses are overgrown and denuded looking.

But move on we shall. Since it’s cold out let’s move into the kitchen. Ah, that’s better. It’s cozy warm in here with the cat rubbing up against my ankles and the dog sitting patiently on his little rug, waiting for little tidbits to drop out of the sky.

I think cooking is one of those things that is universally available to everyone. I know there are intuitive cooks – savants that just instinctively know what spices or ratios will make a dish really soar. But I also believe that anyone can pull together an edible meal if they can read. I mean there are a million books on the subject ~ feel like coulibiac but don’t know where to start? No problem just pull out your Joy of Cooking (of which I’m sure 98% of the kitchens have a copy) and start reading.

Granted there are certain techniques that require a bit of practice (oh like pie crust making) but generally it’s fairly straightforward to follow a recipe. Or so one would think.

Lest anyone think that I’m sexist, since the next two anecdotes concern men, I do know that there are fabulous male cooks. I’m not talking culinary trained chefs ~ just ordinary guys that know how to cook and actually really enjoy it. Then there are the men in my life.

My husband is on his own for a couple of days each week and honestly his efforts to feed himself are pretty banal. He’ll buy a roasted chicken from the grocer and live off of that for a few days. Or he’ll scramble himself a couple of eggs. This week he got the notion to make stew and called me to find out if he could do it in the crockpot.

Rick: "So can I just cut up everything and dump it into the crockpot and that’s it?"

Andrea: "Um, you are going to want to brown the meat first."

Rick: "Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of the crockpot?"

We further discussed the importance of flouring the bits of meat and browning it for flavor and I finally told him to pull out my copy of The New Best Recipe (which is fast replacing my Joy of Cooking as my go to book) and look at the section on stews.

The next night I asked him how his stew was.

R: "Oh not so good."

A: "Did you brown the meat first?"

R: "Yes."

A: "Did you flour and season it first?"

R: "Oh, was I supposed to do that?"

A: "Dude. We talked about it at some length. And the recipe in the cookbook probably told you to do it too."

I don’t really call him dude but I was thinking it. Come to find out he just dumped all the ingredients into the pot. He said it was kind of watery and greasy. Turns out he added the oil he was supposed to brown the meat to the pot. And he thought the two cups of broth was kind of skimpy looking so he added EIGHT cups. He didn’t read the directions part of the recipe at all. Just the ingredient list.

Of course reading the directions doesn’t necessary ensure results either. Just ask my brother in law. Or if you want the really hilarious version of the story ask my nieces and nephew.

Greg decided to surprise his wife by making a batch of chocolate chip cookies. He already knew that the recipe was on the back of the chocolate chip bag so he bundled up Scott (6), Emily (4) and Camille (3) and headed to the store to buy the necessary ingredients.

My sister gets home to a house filled with the aroma of freshly baked cookies and a very proud husband. He did admit that it was much messier than he realized and that whole mixing by hand business seemed like a bother – "I mean why not use a mixer or at the very least a spoon?" She looked at him blankly for a second and then started laughing. "You didn’t actually use your hands to mix the dough did you?" He did say the kids kept telling him "that’s not how mommy does it…" Well at least he read the directions.

I should have him come over and show Rick how to make stew.

Rose Lust

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This is the time of year where I tuck my roses in for the winter. I usually do my major pruning on New Year’s Day but I wasn’t home this year (since I was off staring at the ocean) so my clean up efforts will have to wait until this weekend.

I like to cut them back but not too severely. I’ve learned that here in the relatively mild winters of California that they don’t need it and it affects their growth the next season. My rule of thumb is to cut them in half and shape them so there is a nice, sturdy frame for their Spring growth.

I also rake up all the dropped leaves and petals, weed the bed and cut back the perennials I have mixed in. Then give them a good dormant spraying and then I can get to the fun part.

Which is looking at rose catalogs and pretending I have a acres of sunny, loamy soil to plant in.

The best place in our area for roses in Regan’s Nursery in Fremont. I’m a little miffed at them because the last time I placed an order they didn’t tell me when they shipped and they sat in the back room at our post office for two weeks and were all mildewy by the time I got them. If I had known they were coming I would have been on the lookout for a package. But despite this flaw in their ordering system they do have an incredible selection of bareroot roses.

If you are a procrastinator you can go to the nursery in person later on in the Spring and buy potted roses.

There a million books on the subject but mostly I treat them as picture books. The one book I did read from cover to cover when I first started growing roses is Ray Reddell’s Growing Good Roses. Very informative, especially for a beginner and lots of inspiring pictures.

And this is why I wish I retained any of my high school French – L’Hay-les-Roses – I may just have to go to France to check it out for myself.

New Year’s Day – Pacific Grove

I spent New Year’s Eve quietly taking down the Christmas tree at my Dad’s house. I had a nice fondue dinner with several sisters and their husbands, a kid or two and my Dad. Being that we are old folks now everyone left by 8:30pm.

It probably didn’t help that I started undecorating the tree prompting allergic fits in some (Sorry Kate ~ I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t trying to hasten your departure…) but honestly I think everyone was ready for a calm ringing in of the New Year clad in new Christmas jammies and tucked safely in their own homes.

I woke up early this morning and, since the rest of the house was sleeping, I decided to hop in my car and head to the coast. Joy seeking! Skies were crystal clear and the traffic was light. In less than an hour and a half I was pulling into Pacific Grove.

Pacific Grove is a little jewel of a town next to Monterey, CA. It has a cute little downtown with lovely shops and restaurants and beautiful old Victorian homes on its hilly streets. The houses pictured above have been converted ~ the yellow on is a bed and breakfast (Seven Gables) and the white one is a restaurant (The White House on Lighthouse).

Our goal is to move closer to the ocean, hopefully this year. I could see living in Pacific Grove except a house like either of those would cost a bobillion dollars. Plus I don’t think they allow goats there. I think we are going to have to settle on living close to Pacific Grove.

I forget how much I love the ocean air. It has the most calming effect on me. So my big goal for 2007 (except for the whole joy thing) is going to be to move towards living near the ocean. There are certain factors a bit out of my control (like the real estate market for one) but I can get the rest of my ducks in a row so when the timing is right we can make a move quickly.

Speaking of ducks ~ when I was on my way back, driving down highway 1, the traffic came to a very abrupt slowdown in both directions with cars coming to an almost complete stop then proceeding very slowly. The reason? Four little ducks crossing the road.

Happy New Year

(istockphoto image)

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