My Grandmother's Gifts

It's been a bit rough past few weeks. My grandma Veronica, my mom's mom, the woman who practically raised me and my brother, my best buddy and mentor in the kitchen,  teacher of all awesome life lessons, nurturer with an amazingly big heart, passed away on October 26th, due to complications arising from the West Nile Virus.  One day we were baking together in the kitchen, and the next (literally) she fell acutely ill and was admitted to the hospital. Shortly thereafter, her condition started to deteriorate to the point where prognosis was dismal and impossibly poor.  It was at once incredibly difficult to witness, while at the same time, proved to be a spiritually powerful experience.  She left so much for me to contemplate. And so suddenly.   Immediately, EVERY thing she had touched or owned was connected to her memory, from kitchen items like Armenian coffee cups, to the entire layout of the kitchen itself, to her favorite flowers in the backyard, to the coffee shops along the boulevards in the San Fernando valley of Southern California, where people knew her name and face.   Every single aspect of my life, I found,  vividly evoked the memory of her smile, her commentaries, her humility, her modesty, her beautiful wisdom.

Though all of these memory connections came to me at an overwhelming rate, I found one thing through my grieving that brought me peace: A new appreciation for the natural world around me. You see, beyond her love for food and cooking, and dressing elegantly, I always knew about Veronica's deeper essence, that which reveled in the sights, sounds, touch, and fragrance of natural objects that surround us.   For example, I never listened intently to the birds' songs she would hear in the morning while enjoying her Armenian coffee, turning to me to say, "How beautiful!".  But then, after her passing, I found that I heard these birds at a higher frequency,  songs that spoke to me. Then, it was the flowers, I saw shape and color in a new light, and the way the stamen pointed for bees to pollinate. Her sense of wonder was childlike, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of sights we might take for granted.   And thus, these sights and sounds are being transmitted to me, I believe, through her memory, her spirit.

So, while my garden regains a new look, in the autumn of our lives,  and as I plan to lay down some winter seeds in the coming weeks, I will share some items that I find are simply delectable, vibrant, and sensual.

For example, this weekend, at a local Whole Foods, I stumbled upon this gorgeous anomaly called,  "Buddha's Fingers" lemon.   Who knew!   Its fragrance as strong and sweet as a Meyer's or Sorrento lemon, the Buddha's Fingers(or more commonly Buddha's hand), is thought to originate from India or China, but grown in Southern California.   At $7.99/lb, it is clearly a very special item(this one weighed about 4 lbs),  I thought I'll reserve the purchase for another occasion when I can find a very worthy dessert or lemon-based dish  :)   But check it out,   freaky,   fruity,   fantastical!




Oh, and I found these intensely purple, paper-like blossoms at the Getty Center garden. Had to share. I love how they radiate their vibrant hue, almost like a purple sun :)

A Different Route to Rooting

Summer days proved themselves, once again, labile. One day it would be overcast, the next we would hit miserable 100+ temps across the Southland. We're hanging on to the last bits of summer-like weather.  And my tomato plants have all but vanished. Though leaving the watering task to my neighbor's kid while I went on vacation may have been part of the issue, I think the weather's unpredictability coupled with my suboptimal soil could have largely contributed to the problem.  I say that because despite the tomato's demise, my cucumber plants continued to flower and blossom with same quality soil. Ideally, composting would be the way to go. But at this time it remains the impractical option.

With soil being my ongoing point of contention, a peculiar discovery reminded me of nature's sweet surprises amidst disappointing outcomes.  I was watering my veggie plants yesterday morning,  and as I walked back to the water source, just behind the coiled hose, I noticed for the first time a random tomato plant, all by itself had taken root.  And in sandy soil for that matter!   Very strange.  So I thought it either cross pollinated, or somehow, I, with my less than perfect seed-sowing skills, must have inadvertently dropped a seed near that spot.  What a delight. I tugged a bit, in disbelief,  and it looks solidly planted underground.  So, will see how this little guy turns out, and what kind of variety will emerge :)

What Shoots Down Must Come up!

Well, it only took like 6 months....not kidding! I put down these seeds around end of December or early January. Not even sure it should take this long....I can only attribute the weather and lack of direct sunlight to slow growth. But this gorgeous array of dwarf and rainbow carrots definitely took their sweet crunchy time to develop.  I suppose I could have left them in a bit longer, but I was eager to use their space to transplant zucchini and other summer squash.
The day I pulled these out, I took them over to the family BBQ, where I brushed them with some butter, wrapped em in foil, then served them like candy.....unbelievable flavorrr...........!