From the Ground Up by Amy Stewart

With apologies to those in colder climes, spring has come to our little garden. The daffodils are up and earlier this year, we let our seven year old friend plant our bulbs wherever he wanted. The result is a lovely madness of blooms. Bunched together in some spots and varieties mixed together willy-nilly. Makes me smile with delight.*

So there I was cutting these daffs to take indoors when my thoughts turned to our garden at large. So much to do after the rains – oh the weeds – the weeds. Luckily, our seven year old child laborer gardener is also keen to help weed. No matter if he pulls up the wrong thing – odds are in our favor that he does indeed pull mostly weeds.

The other evening, my thoughts turning to more gardening, I turned to my collection of gardening books and pulled out an old favorite. Not an instructional garden book, but a memoir of a first garden.

From the Ground Up by Amy Stewart

I read this first when it came out in 2001 — during those dark days after 9/11 and I needed simple distraction. I just re-read it again and was once again surprised by how much I enjoyed this little gardening book.

From the book’s flyleaf:

Amy Stewart had a simple dream. She yearned for a garden filled with colorful jumbles of vegetables and flowers. After she and her husband finished graduate school, they pulled up their Texas roots and headed west to Santa Cruz, California. With little money in their pockets, they rented a modest seaside bungalow with a small backyard. It wasn’t much—a twelve-hundred-square-foot patch of land with a couple of fruit trees, and a lot of dirt. A good place to start.

From the Ground Up is Stewart’s quirky, humorous chronicle of the blossoms and weeds in her first garden and the lessons she’s learned the hard way. From planting seeds her great-grandmother sends to battling snails, gophers, and aphids, Stewart takes us on a tour of four seasons in her coastal garden. Confessing her sins and delighting in small triumphs, she dishes the dirt for both the novice and the experienced gardener. Along the way, she brings her quintessential California beach town to life—complete with harbor seals, monarch butterfly migrations, and an old-fashioned seaside amusement park just down the street.

This garden memoir is set just down the coast from us in Santa Cruz and I can relate to the coastal garden trials and tribulations. Furthermore, Ms. Stewart captures the mindset of the amateur gardener with all its joys, mysteries and disappointments. And I’ve made all the mistakes and I’ve had the joy and disappointment. From the Ground Up is interwoven with some viable garden tips — but it’s more than just a gardening book – it’s a book about life. Just read this excerpt:

But gardening is none of that, really. Strip away the gadgets and the techniques, the books and the magazines and the soil test kits, and what you’re left with, at the end of the day, is this: a stretch of freshly turned dirt, a handful of seeds scratched into the surface, and a marker to remember where they went. It is at the same time an incredibly brave and an incredibly simple thing to do, entrusting your seeds to the earth and waiting for them to rise up out of the ground to meet you.

If you have the gardening bug or you know someone who does. Whether you are into one specific species of plant or an eclectic gardener (we definitely fall into the latter category) — or even if you’d rather garden from your comfy chair – From the Ground Up is a delightful story of a new gardener, her first garden, and how she and her garden grew and changed.

Ms. Stewart is also know for several other garden books which are very well regarded.

One about the history of poisonous plants and their victims.

And another about the flower industry

Both look very interesting for someday.

But for now, From the Ground Up will go back to its place on my shelves for yet another re-read.

* Out here we have to plant new bulbs every year because in our temperate climate and without frost — very few bulbs re-bloom.

Lest you think we are the only ones with bulbs planted in wild abandon – check out the tulip garden in Golden Gate Park…also makes me happy. I wonder if they have their own child gardening helpers?

Around the House and Garden by Dominique Browning

Back in my advertising days, I was lucky enough to be part of the magazine publishing industry – only peripherally, but still a wonderful perk. In that time, printed magazines were a honorable part of advertising media, with wonderful (and sometimes not so wonderful) full page advertisements. Another benefit of advertising in magazines, was the complimentary subscriptions we received. One of my favorites was House and Garden magazine.

House & Garden editor-in-chief, Dominique Browning, wrote a monthly column for the magazine and this lovely book brings together those columns. They cover personal stories and essays about home decorating, gardening, and raising children with universal themes of domestic life.

In Around the House and in the Garden, Browning adapts and expands these well-loved pieces, adding dozens of new essays, to create an insightful and moving narrative about the solace and sense of self that can be found through tending one’s home.

From the book blurb:

Around the House and Garden is a book for anyone who has ever felt the need to reinvent a life or a space, who has ever fallen in love with the idea of home – the place where we reinvent ourselves.

I’ve had this book for years and never got all the way through it. A while ago, I re-started it and left it next to my bed to read a chapter a night — they are each distinct, none are more than four pages, and easy to digest independently. And while I thought I would read one essay before sleep, in the end, I found myself reading the last half the book in one sitting.

Ms. Browning weaves in many reflections on her life in her two homes. The houses come to symbolize the state of her heart and mind. Some are sad, as she tries to bounce back from a divorce, yet it’s also a wonderfully uplifting book. I loved reading about her journey of healing while remaking her home and her reflections on gardens, decorating, and cultivating the comforts of a home.

It especially speaks to anyone starting over in their lives after a divorce, but could be just as useful to anyone attempting to create some kind of spiritual retreat in which to nurture their bodies and souls.

When I was reading this beautifully written book, I imagined myself sitting in a cozy living room having a cup of tea and a long talk with a lovely, yet vulnerable Ms. Browning — only after we had taken a long stroll through her gardens.

This book is Book Barmy prescribed for these long winter nights when you need calming, gentle, diversionary material to lull you to sleep while trying not to think obsessively about something that can wait until tomorrow.

Taste by Stanley Tucci

With some pride, I admit I make a mean spaghetti sauce – a recipe handed down from my maternal great-grandmother who got the original from a newly immigrated Italian family – or so the story goes. Anyway it is Husband’s favorite meal and I make it on his birthday with plenty of extra sauce to freeze for during the following months.

This year, I deviated for Husband’s birthday. Why you may ask? Well I had just started Stanley Tucci’s memoir Taste and the way he describes his families’ ragu made my mouth water. The book contained the recipe (among others) and I followed it to the letter. It was very, very good, – a little simpler, a bit lighter, and fresher. It won’t replace my mother’s/great grandmother’s version, but it was in one of the first few chapters –and I just had to try it.

But lets get to the book shall we? Taste falls into the genre of narrative cookbooks, but this is more of a memoir of meals and should come with the following advisory:

Warning. Reading this book may cause unexpected weight gain.

Stanley Tucci recently had a CNN series touring Italy and …eating … and eating. As I watched the series, I remember how much I like Stanley Tucci – he is funny, smart, and good looking. I loved him in ‘The Devil wears Prada,’ and ‘Julie and Julia. But reading this book, I was also reminded of his film from 20+ years ago ‘The Big Night’ which showcases his love of cooking and food.

Taste is Mr. Tucci’s own story about the importance of food and family. His upbringing and relationship to food throughout his life. A funny and wry writer who leads you through his life, career, the ups and downs, interlaced with frequent recipes, memorable meals and food experiences.

With charm and wit, he shares personal anecdotes to show how food influenced his life and how food connects him to his family and Italian heritage. He also shares his health battles and a very relatable (we were all there) section on how his family handled the pandemic.

Reading Mr. Tucci, I was in the presence of a foodie of the best sort. One who makes sure you are comfortable, with a drink in your hand, and takes undisguised joy in preparing a wonderful meal for loved ones to enjoy around a warm and welcoming table. But it’s not just the cooking and preparing of food. Taste shares Mr. Tucci’s love of good ingredients and our relationship to those ingredients is of great importance.

To me, eating well is not just about what tastes good but about the connections that are made through the food itself. I am hardly saying anything new by stating that our links to what we eat have practically disappeared beneath sheets of plastic wrap. But what are also disappearing are the wonderful, vital human connections we’re able to make when we buy something we love to eat from someone who loves to sell it, who bought it from someone who loves to grow, catch, or raise it. Whether we know it or not, great comfort is found in these relationships, and they are very much a part of what solidifies a community.

While I found Taste a little jumpy and in need of some editing, it was really enjoyable. There are many fun vignettes and the food descriptions are absolutely wonderful — see advisory above. He describes his mother’s wonderful cooking, praises restaurants where he had fantastic meals (sadly many now closed), and goes on (and on — where was his editor?) about food that made a lasting impression on him. His description of the best spaghetti carbonara he’s ever had will have you salivating. And if you’re still using grocery store parmesan in the green can, Taste will have you contemplating saving your pennies dollars for some real Parmigiano Reggiano.

Mr. Tucci is a Hollywood star with famous friends and he does do some name dropping which he endearingly fesses up to right at the beginning. He is also able to frequent the best butchers, greengrocers, and specialty food shops in London where he now lives. Mr. Tucci’s pleas to find the best ingredients may be hard to swallow (pun definitely intended) for some more moderate food budgets. But try to overlook those and enjoy the read.

Taste is a delightful romp through Stanley Tucci’s life, table and career.

HERE is the Tucci Ragu Recipe – well worth making.

Warning: Taste contains profanity, and if you’re squeamish, there is a home slaughter of a goat.

Always Home by Fanny Singer

A fellow foodie friend loaned me his signed copy of this book — calling it the perfect escapist read during the pandemic. Given the title, I had to laugh and agree.

I just finished Always Home, having dipped in and out of it for many months now.

But first a little background; Fanny Singer is the daughter of Alice Waters, one of our most beloved chefs and founder of the famous Chez Panisse restaurant.

Alice was an early advocate of sourcing only the best local ingredients and is also known for her edible schoolyard program in Berkeley. And, although I am now weary of Alice and her endless publicity, I was fascinated to read this lovely memoir by her daughter, Fanny, who grew up in the glow of this revered chef.

Husband and I have been fortunate to have dined at Chez Panisse (and the more casual upstairs Fanny Cafe) and Always Home brings Fanny, her family, and behind the scenes of the restaurant to life. Turns out, Fanny was partially raised in the restaurant kitchens, surrounded by attentive chefs and prep cooks. Hers was a life full of love and really, really yummy food. Even Fanny’s lunchboxes were meticulously curated by her culinary-obsessed mother:

My lunches were not broken into courses as much as they were divided into multiple parts. There was a largish container that held a salad, a medium container for garlic bread (levain toast rubbed with olive oil and garlic), another for a season fruit compote or macédoine, a very small jar with a vinaigrette because, of course, we were both aware of the perils of prematurely dressing the salad.

Of course, I was intrigued by the recipes throughout the book and made notes to copy such delights as authentic French Citron pressé, various simple salad dressings, real Aioli, and Franny’s roast chicken which requires such high oven heat, that it comes with a warning to disable your smoke detectors.

I found Alice Waters’s quirks weirdly fascinating–her tendency to drink from bowls rather than mugs and to “jettison her silverware and delve in with her fingers,” expressing “a primal impulse to be closer to the thing she was eating, to be more sensuously acquainted.” Alice is dogmatic about sourcing only organic, locally-sourced ingredients and it’s revealed as what it actually is – an life-long obsession — which is termed “Chez shopping”.

But mostly I was drawn into the beauty of this life — how even the simplest meal could be made special, the focus on the fresh ingredients, and even the endless curation of flower arrangements everywhere:

Flowers were for my mom not just a confection to be enjoyed at the restaurant, but a part of what made any room complete. Billowing leafy branches and a few stems of some decidedly un-showy flower seem to be permanently installed in a large green urn in the far corner of the kitchen.

Fanny’s childhood trips to France are some of the best parts of Always Home — how their French friends sought beat up Brocantes (antiques) to restore, the overgrown but abundant garden, and evening meals outside under heavily scented rose bushes.

At the same time, this was (and is) a privileged life of wealth — surrounded by renowned cooks, celebrated artists, the access to abundant food resources, and the Berkeley bohemian culture. There is no shortage of name dropping, and a wee bit of trying-too-hard-overwriting. But, in the end, Fanny’s love and admiration for her mother emanates from every page:

There is a quality of ‘homecoming’ that transcend location, and not just because I reach deep into my repertoire of my mother’s recipes to animate her table through mine, but also she is somehow present even when she is not.

Always Home is charming, funny, full of love and really, really (did I say really?) good food. And, hey, any book that helps make a home special for those we love, and perhaps even ourselves, is beyond value these days.

But let’s turn to one of my favorite foodie writers Ruth Reichl — here is her review of Always Home

You will probably pick up this book because you’re curious about how it feels to grow up with Alice Waters as your mother. But you will inevitably be captivated by Fanny Singer’s sensuous voice and sensible soul. The writing’s lovely, but more than that, Fanny has struck a kind of brutal honesty that is extremely rare and completely beautiful. Her writing makes you want to taste every flavor she describes, and soon you’ll be dashing into the kitchen to make watercress soup, wild fennel cakes, and breakfast pudding. But the really important thing is that I’m pretty sure everyone who reads it will come away with the same feeling that I have: Why don’t I live my life like this? How can I do better? I love this book.”

A side note, this is quite an expensive book, however it feels nicely substantial in one’s hands, it’s printed on heavy paper, and contains many beautifully produced photographs. And the best — it’s bound so it will stay open for the recipes. Such a pleasure to have a book printed with that sort of craft and thought.

Welcome Back

Our beloved cable cars shut in the spring of last year due to the pandemic and remained out of service ever since. During this down time they worked on the cable system under the streets, as well as the cars themselves.

Now they’re back and for the month of August free to all (normally an astounding $8 each ride). One beautiful sunny day last week, Husband and I donned our masks and rode every cable car line.

First thing we noticed was how empty downtown was – this area is normally wall-to-wall pedestrians and traffic – eerie.

First we reviewed the new cautionary signs on how to ride a cable car. No such rules before — we laughed at how we used to run for the car as it was moving and hang on the outside. A bygone era it seems.

It was fun to play tourist in our own city and we noticed just a few of our actual tourists are back.

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The Buena Vista has opened and serving their famous Irish Coffee – outside under the tent. But we didn’t stop this time.

The cars were relatively empty and everyone wore masks.

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We had lunch at the famous Sears Fine Food – a San Francisco institution since 1938. Normally, it’s packed with a long waiting line out front. Not this day.

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We went up and down the hills of San Francisco – our trusty cable cars pulling us up and gripping us down.

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The fog waited until we were done to start rolling in.

It was one of those great days – wish you were here.

As Always, Jack by Emma Sweeney

Whenever we travel to a different location, I like to visit a bookstore and search for local authors or books set in the area.

When we were in Coronado, California – (yikes, over two years ago now) – I bought this little book written by a woman raised on the island. I only just read As Always, Jack, having re-discovered it when shopping my home shelves during Covid.

Ms. Sweeney never knew her father, Jack, who shared a whirlwind romance with her mother via letters while stationed in the Pacific just after WWII. This slim volume, contains the actual collection of letters from her navy pilot father to her mother during the last months of WWII.

They met in Coronado and knew each other a mere two weeks before he got shipped off. Through their letters they got to know each other, and fell in love. A ten year marriage and five children were the result. To avoid any confusion, I’ll tell you that the author’s mother was pregnant with her when her father’s plane went down during a routine Navy flight.

By the time the Ms. Sweeney was old enough to start wondering about the father she’d never known, her mother had remarried. And with a reluctance to revisit the past, details about her father and their romance were scarce. Following her mother’s passing, Emma discovered a ribbon-tied packet of fragile letters and a photo — through which she finally met her father.

These letters depict far more than the typical navy pilot meets and falls in love with a beautiful California girl. Jack’s sense of humor and wit shines through. His personality is bold and cocky – as he woos, cajoles, and romances this beautiful girl from Coronado. Yet as the same time, he shows his insecurity that she doesn’t love him as much, and grows despondent when her letters don’t arrive.

Well, HALLELUJAH! FOUR letters – ranging from April 28th to May 27th – came home today and the world looks much different. One was sealed with a kiss, one was sealed with a Big kiss, one was sealed with a peck (?), and one was just sealed, which means I got spit on.

Jack tells of the foreign culture (Shanghai, Japan) boredom, lousy food, routine and when he writes about his actual flights, — he glosses over the obvious danger.

I feel pretty good, even though the immediate future isn’t so bright. Not enough of you in it.

Throughout the letters are Jack’s comical illustrations, 1940’s slang and references – from the films he sees on base to the virtues of the Fibber MacGee and Molly radio program – over which they disagree. Jack teases his girlfriend by mixing up her name, adding ten years to her age, and speculating on the number of children they will someday have.

After his release orders come through, and Jack is waiting for transport back to the States, his letters become a bit more subdued as he worries that after five months apart, that she won’t feel the same about him. But he tries to hide his jitters behind his ever resilient humor.

The only disappointment for this reader was that, through no fault of the author, As Always, Jack is one sided – only his letters survived. How wonderful it would have been to have the full correspondence. I’m sure Ms. Sweeney feels the same way.

As Always, Jack is an intensely personal gift from the author — not only by the sharing of her father’s letters, but also with the introduction and afterword she wrote to give a fuller picture of her parents endearing romance.