I have spring on my mind even if Mother Nature isn’t quite cooperating; we enjoy a handful of glorious days with perfect temperatures and Robin’s Egg blue skies and 48 hours later it’s overcast and gloomy. However, my peonies have poked their plumy-pink stems up through the ground as has our rhubarb patch so I know spring is here; the koi pond has been cleaned, the fountain is running and it looks like this coming weekend will be our first mow of the season.
Can you believe it’s September???? Does this surprise you as much as it does me???? And why am I using multiple question marks???? I have no idea. Other than I’m truly gobsmacked September is here and I’m not ready to let go of summer – can I just get an ‘amen?!’ It’s still hot and humid and because the Winter of 2013-14 was so. very. long., I’ve got a death-grip on summer and will not release her until Mother Nature pries summer from my slightly wrinkled, tightly-clenched fist, one finger at a time. Even then, I predict I’ll drag myself into fall kicking and screaming.
The summer air is warm and muggy; grated metal chairs surround outdoor tables waiting for guests to appear. Inside, a smile at the check-in station and murmured conversations blend with Aretha Franklin’s ‘Chain of Fools’ as the steady hiss of an espresso machine pulls one silky, caramel stream after another into warmed, waiting mugs. Booths and tables alike are at capacity as friends, family, and couples connect over steaming plates of Shrimp and Grits, Biscuit Boards stacked with house biscuits served with spoon fruit, local goat butter and spice honey, Croque Madames, or Breakfast Tamales . . . it’s just a typical Sunday Brunch at Feast Bakery Café in Bloomington.
I swear my intentions are good . . . I swear when we made these delicious little blueberry coffee cakes that I had an entire post rolling about in my head; I swear I intended to make enough time to get those thoughts down somewhere so I could write something poetic and wonderful and enlightening and inspiring. But as I sit here today, I got nothin’.
Waffles were a big deal at the little house on Ankeny Street; my mother had a large waffle baker that had a long black ‘fabric-type’ of cord with little gold threads running through it. She would make one very large waffle or 4 individual pieces could be torn apart and shared; butter, jam or maple syrup was passed around the table and we were convinced we were the luckiest kids on the street.
I met Grace via Twitter long before we actually met in person; eager to share, to assist, to help in any way, Grace is one of those people you want for your neighbor. And not just because of her genuine kindness but also because Grace is a master when it comes to making jaw-dropping Italian desserts.
Sometimes you just gotta put your head down and move forward. I have danced around this post for the last two months wishing that I, that my family, wouldn’t have to face this day. But today is here and rather than spend it in bed with ivory-colored, 100 percent, 600-thread count cotton sheets pulled up over my head, I am going to celebrate Alice’s birthday with the same tenacity in which she lived her life.
Musical pairing – Ain’t No Mountain High Enough by Michael McDonald
I think I’ve mentioned here before that I haven’t always been a breakfast eater; in my defense I think it’s because I don’t get particularly excited about cold cereal nor am I a fan of drinking milk straight up – ugh. BUT give me a great egg dish, biscuits and gravy, some candied bacon or these blueberry-cornmeal pancakes and I’m so there. In fact, now that I’m a grownup (and I am a grownup, ahem . . . plus . . .) cold cereal for breakfast is almost non-existant in this house.
Musical pairing – Easy by Commodores
Twitter is full of comments about life being crazy busy right now and I must confess, I find myself in the same boat. Where are the lazy days of summer that songwriters wax poetic about ‘cuz they sure ain’t hangin’ around here – we are running from one forest fire to the next! Who has time to make a proper breakfast?