My sister Mimi Hedl joins me again with this post from her farm in central Missouri.

filderkraut cabbage forming a head 2

My friend Jenny has often written about her temenos, her garden, her sacred enclosure. At Strawdog, my temenos, the gardens expand to three acres and within those boundaries, many special places exist, nurtured and cared for as if only they mattered.

Only wealthy people have this kind of luxury, this form of wealth, to tend a small kingdom and watch it thrive. My richness comes not in the normal sense of money and power, but rather in my freedom to do what I love, take care of this piece of earth. When I write about my surgical maneuvers, removing shrubs, eradicating this or that, it may not sound glamorous to you who don’t garden with the same passion, but for someone trying to find the harmony of their land, to put what will grow well in each micro-environment, it feels like solving an impossible puzzle. The thrill of finding a seedling growing in a spot I never thought of putting it, seems like a hand reaching out and ever so gently guiding me.

The compost piles have always impressed, especially children. Firstly, they can’t believe a pile of weeds and coffee grounds, lemon peels and melon rinds, will turn into the soil they see in the next bin, ready to spread, so light and fluffy it looks good enough to eat.

The last 8 years I’ve dedicated to giving more ground to all the critters, from bees and butterflies, to deer and turkey. It shouldn’t have surprised me when rabbits and squirrels and chipmunks and even armadillos moved in. Many screaming fits have resulted. They solve nothing and make me feel foolish. So now I realize I simply have to get smarter, plant more and share with everyone.

shot of teepees with wire barriers 2

I figured that growing vertically might make a good move. With my largesse of cut bamboo, from a lengthy eradication campaign a few years ago, I have plenty of material for trellises of all types. I like teepees. I like the way they look, how easily they go up and how I can secure the base with a 10” tall strip of old screen wire, looking for a purpose in life.

At last count, a dozen teepees stand tall, my own village. These enchant children and if not for Covid I’d see Brady and Logan, my grandsons, running around them, trying to pick the beans and cucumbers from on high. Of course they’ll want to go inside and of course they can’t. So I decided to erect a wire cattle panel as a refuge for them, for children of all ages. When the heat bears down, going inside a shaded area, even for a short period, extends the time a gardener can endure. Plus it’s nice to watch the bees going about their work, a butterfly flitting here and there, as you stand still, inside a quiet cocoon.

Japanese climbing cucumbers 2

The cattle panels had stood behind the asparagus, where, come high summer, the ferns fall over and the head gardener complains of having to push the mower through the jungle. To keep her content, at great trouble I put up the cattle panels to keep the ferns out of her way. Now, years later, the asparagus crowns push under the panel and she can’t easily weed, so it’s been requested I remove these panels.

I sigh and comply as I feel grateful for any and all help. But where to store the panels? They’re 16’ long, 4’ wide and made of steel, heavy. I lug three of them over to the daffodil bed, now quiet, pound in 2 fence posts with my handy post driver and manage to angle them up against the fence posts, tying them in place. I still have one more, at the head of the bed and I hate to drag it the 100’ down to the corralled panels, so I say, “the arbor!”, as I remember my plan for the children.

These wire panels are awkward, heavy, tough to navigate through all the shrubbery and gardens. I so wish for help but with this pandemic, don’t think of hollering for any unless I have an emergency.  Ron put up 4 arbors, did I help him? I don’t remember. If I did, I probably didn’t pay attention but rather was thinking of the next job I’d do, or navel gazing… I could’ve saved myself much misery, in countless ways, if I’d paid more attention. Sigh….

I find the spot in the second 1/4 acre where I want the arbor and proceed to try to bend it into an arch. It would’ve made a funny video to watch my clumsy attempts. As I said, this panel is not only heavy, it’s strong and seemingly unbendable. I’m ignoring some basic principle, I mutter as I try again and again to put it in place. Oh how badly I want to call Mark, my helper. I persevere. I have no luck and in an hour simply wear myself out trying.  I lay the panel on the grass, sigh again and go about other tasks.

As I work, I think of all the adages Ron used to repeat: “The job’s not too tough, the hammer’s just not big enough”; “If I had a lever long enough, I could move the earth.”  I stopped at that one. I don’t want to move the earth, I just want to bend that panel. Hmmmm…I said to myself. And thought on it until the next day.

Fresh and inspired by Archimedes, I pounded two stakes into the ground with my trusty post driver, lugged the panel in front of the stakes, went to the other end of the panel, and lifted it up, pushing it against the stakes. I won’t exaggerate and say it was easy, I was sweating bullets to push it into place, but I did it, and shouted so loud, “I’m a genius!!” anyone nearby must’ve wondered who got hurt and if they should come help. Once I had it bent, I pounded in the other two stakes, secured them to the panel with wire, and admired my brilliant work.


Archimedes arbor 2

Now moon flowers grow along with a Thai kang kob squash. I hadn’t planned on the squash, but it saw the panel, grabbed ahold with its tendrils, and climbed over the top. It’s such fun to see the squash hanging down, the flowers rich and glorious in their gold, that I’ll let melons and whatever, grow over the panel in the future.

Now I realize part of the adage Ron left out is necessary, “give me a lever long enough and A FULCRUM ON WHICH TO PLACE IT and I shall move the earth.” Thank you, Archimedes. You’re welcome to come into this wonderful temenos anytime you want relief from the burdens of understanding the universe.

Our Lady with Cherokee Trail of Tears beans on teepees2





Lower Greeter Falls (2)

Lower Greeter Falls 2007, oil on canvas, 50 x 66 inches

The long hot days of summer elicit a languor in me and my cooking. This year the ennui provoked by the pandemic amplifies my usual slow summer pace. We eat the season’s fruits and vegetables from my garden,  Zweck’s farm stand and the grocers, in simple dishes.

I read that nostalgia may be a help with stress and take great pleasure in rereading recipes and finding the occasional note on a recipe listing the date when, and the guests for whom, I have cooked a dish.

Venice book

I browse through my cookbook collection to rediscover recipes to use with the plethora of delicious food now available.  The northern Italian book for a zucchini risotto, Deborah Madison’s Local Flavors for a cold chard and sorrel soup, and my own book for cold beet soup.

tuna and beans

I like to prepare some of the day’s food first thing while the house is cool.  I may cook a pot of beans to have for this tuna and bean salad, defrost chicken to grill for dinner, bake a batch of cookies, or marinate tomatoes for the following.


I had a bag of our first tomatoes from Zweck’s, juicy and flavorful. I remembered a recipe from The Silver Palate, “Linguine with Tomatoes and Basil”, that I make only in summer when homegrown tomatoes are abundant.

The original recipe is quite rich, too rich, so I have adapted it to our taste. I encourage you to read and use recipes this way.  They are a guide, a template, not the gospel. And as my sister Mimi wrote here last time in Summer Cooking, “most things don’t need exact-ness”.

marinating 2

So, I had a pound of tomatoes, a bunch of basil, and the ends of several pieces of Brie, about 4 ounces. I chopped the tomatoes into 1-inch pieces, the basil into ribbons and tore the cheeses into smallish bits.  I added a chopped and mashed clove of garlic and a couple tablespoons of olive oil and left the bowl on the counter to marinate all day.


At supper time I cooked 5 ounces of linguine in salted water until tender, yet al dente.

Then in a serving bowl, I tossed the hot pasta with the cool tomatoes and cheese and served with a bowl of grated parmesan to garnish.

pasta with tomatoes

Another summer favorite is watermelon. This salad is inspired by one I had years ago at Zolo in Boulder.  I have a ton of wild arugula going mad in my garden so some goes into each day’s salad.  It’s a perfect partner to watermelon ─ bitter and sweet.


For this salad I cut slices of watermelon into 1-inch chunks, and tore the arugula into manageable bites.  Dressed with olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper, then crumbled over some Amish blue cheese (I often use feta).  You might top off with some chopped dill and a generous sprinkle of toasted pepitas or sunflower seeds.

watermelon salad 2

We have had some delightful visitors here on Blue Mountain Road.  As I opened the door to set the dinner table on the front porch one evening, I surprised a doe and her twin fawns, still with spots and giant mule deer ears they will grow in to.  They have since returned to drink from our rain water tank, once coming within an arm’s length of my chair. These encounters enrich our lives and bring us down to earth, out of our pandemic funk and worry.  We are so fortunate.




Summer Cooking

In 1970, our first year in London, I came across the cookbooks of Elizabeth David, available in inexpensive Penguin paperbacks. As she did for a generation of English cooks, David became my guide to a new world of food and a new way to cook.  You can read my tale of discovering this treasure in How I Learned To Cook, An Artist’s Life.  I was excited to share her books with my sister, Mimi, and sent her one of my favorites, Summer Cooking.  Here is Mimi’s take on that formative time with Ms. David.

summer cooking 2


Summer Cooking ─ Mimi Hedl

Back in 1971, freshly returned from Rio de Janeiro and living with Cindy Carlisle in Boulder near the foothills, my first husband (out of two) and I tried to figure out what to do next. One day a package arrived from England. That was exciting in itself, a package from England, but coming from Barbara, I knew it would be special. All these years later Summer Cooking, by Elizabeth David, has never failed me. As a very unformed 24 year old, this book opened my eyes. I began to see food as more than nourishment, preparing food as an art, especially when some of it came from my own garden.

I remember devouring every word in this book, so unlike the Betty Crocker cook book our mother raised us on. Elizabeth David gave a history of foods, where they came from, how they’ve been used, and little stories that enhanced the recipes. Reading her words I felt part of a larger world.

first recipe

Barbara placed asterisks by special recipes. So I tried Salad Espagnole for my maiden voyage into a new way of cooking. So simple, so few ingredients, but absolute perfection and wonderful picnic food. It called for shallots, not easily found back then, so I decided I had to grow them. Mayonnaise challenged me. After two or three attempts, the mayonnaise came together as it should, firm and beautiful in its freshness.  I felt the triumph of a challenge met. Aioli would soon follow.

Barbara’s few words at the beginning of the book, motherly, and a bit stand-offish, (she hadn’t decided about me as her younger, somewhat pesky sister), have stayed with me all these years. “Most things don’t need exact-ness.” Her husband as a master printer may quarrel with this, but most of us don’t deal in precision. It seems like a wonderful way to approach life, to not demand perfection, but to learn how to make things work and feel satisfied when the bread doesn’t rise quite as high as Grandma’s or the cake dips in the middle, to figure out how to make substitutions during a pandemic… Granted, that wasn’t exactly what Barbara had in mind, but stretching an adage seems perfectly acceptable, especially in hind sight.

most things 2.

This lesson takes years to learn, and Barbara’s words have been passed on to many of the young cooks and gardeners I’ve mentored. It can be painful to watch someone frustrated because they don’t think they measure up, or to watch someone pull every single tiny weed out of a bed of lavender, taking hours to do a job the boss would do in minutes. But that perfectionist streak seems part and parcel of our psyches, impossible to erase, but with work, we can tame the beast.

Growing up, Barbara was everything I was not. Popular, in clubs and groups, with boyfriends and with a bedroom of her own, where she had a radio, imagine, and privacy. The door was always closed, so I could only fantasize about what she did. She drew, performed in plays, and her head was always stuck inside a book. She had ideas and even went to the Guthrie Theater one summer. Exotic was a word I would’ve used to describe her, if I had had the vocabulary.

So this book represented an entry into her world, a world I had only dreamed about. What makes someone, at a young age, so sure of themselves, and someone else, in the same family, totally insecure? It’s a lovely mystery I have no interest in solving. As I remind my young friends, it doesn’t matter when you blossom, only that you do. For me, it was a long, slow process and began with little gestures, like this book of Elizabeth David’s.

favorite 2

In time, I would acquire all of Ms. David’s books and especially love one titled: Spices, Salt and Aromatics in the English Kitchen. It was a book Barbara had given to Mom. Every time I’d visit Mom, I’d pick up that book and read, comment on little things in the book and Mom would always be interested, but she’d never read the book herself.  During one visit, Mom said, “Why don’t you take it with you?” and I did.

Now I have one of those nutmeg graters, pictured on the cover, that holds a nutmeg in a little chamber and grates the nutmeg so nicely, opening the senses when I brush off the nutmeg that clings to the metal. A whiff of a fragrance like that can turn a sour mood into one of optimism in a second, one of the reasons I enjoy herbs and spices and like to spread the gospel. Also such fun to show it to people who’ve never seen a whole nutmeg and to explain about the netted covering on the nutmeg, called mace.

poppy pods

I’ve begun collecting seeds and drying herbs for the winter. I often carry on a conversation with Ms. David. She enjoys eating the bread seed poppies out of her cupped hand, as I tilt a ripe pod towards her and let the seeds fall out. Once the seed matures, the poppy pod becomes a salt shaker. Children love this and ensure seed gets scattered every which way. Birds do the same. They’ve figured out a way to cut through the holes in the shaker and help themselves. I have to harvest the seed quickly if I want my share.

common oregano 2

Now it’s oregano. Not Greek, but the pink-flowered, common oregano. I prefer it for an all-purpose oregano. The others have a stronger flavor and can easily over power a dish or soup. But the common tastes mild and I can use it liberally. Ms. David cautions me about drying too much and says, “Three-quarters of the dried herbs bought in an excess of enthusiasm by amateur cooks end up in the dustbin because they have been kept too long.”

I tell her I couldn’t agree more, but now we have compost piles so at least it gets recycled. I assure her I will use all of the ½ gallon I dry as a handful goes into every bean soup I make, and I make at least one a week during the winter. She eyes me skeptically, and looks a great deal like my sister Barbara…

And then I realize because Barbara gave me the initial book when I was so impressionable, I imprinted on her all of Ms. David, and forever more the two will intertwine. It’s quite lovely how we do that with characters from books we love, poets we read, musicians, whatever, and I feel quite sure Barbara will roll her eyes and then laugh and say, “Whatever.”





Birthday Month


Zoë Hiking 2003, charcoal on paper, 38 x 30 inches (from a 1976 photo)

June is birthday month for us as we celebrate Bud and Zoë on the 10th and 11th.  Each year we plan something special for those days.  This time Zoë organized a camping trip to Hermit Park, just fifteen miles up the highway from Blue Mountain Road.  We shared the cooking tasks and I brought grilled salmon, potatoes with a vinaigrette and olives, (in Lunch for an Artist), and grilled asparagus for our first evening.  Zoë surprised Bud with his favorite dessert, banana cream tarts, easier to transport than a whole pie.  And she brought a pint Mason jar to use to make the whipped cream topping – by shaking!  It really worked, perhaps with Bud’s magic touch.

Zoë made our dinner the second night, using a box of Annie’s mac and cheese for a base.  This is real camp food and we all feel some nostalgia for other camping trips when Annie’s was the easy choice for dinner.  She embellished the basics with roasted red peppers, peas and basil.  Perfect after a day of hiking and lounging around the campsite.

It was great to get away into the mountains, if only up the road a piece.

Meanwhile, the weeks stretch on and I look for distraction in my cooking.  We often have vegetarian meals and during this stay-at-home time with limited grocery shopping, it’s what I want to cook.  I have dipped into cookbooks that hadn’t been cracked open in a while and rediscovered dishes.  The chard I planted last year self-seeded profusely in unexpected spots so I was pleased to find a recipe for chard gratin in Deborah Madison’s Local Flavors.

chard gratin ingredients

Wash, then strip the leaves of  a couple bunches of chard from the stalks.  Chop the leaves into 1/2 inch ribbons and the 1/2 of the stalks into 1/4 inch pieces.  Chop a medium sized onion into dice and sauté in two tablespoons of butter with the chopped stalks until translucent.  Add the leaves, and the water that clings to them, and cook until tender.

chard gratin ingredients 3  Make a bechamel with one tablespoon butter, one tablespoon flour, and a cup of milk.  Cook for a few minutes then add a cup of grated cheese – cheddar, gruyere, goat cheese, or whatever you have and like, and a bit of parmesan.  Add this to the veggies and scrap into an oiled baking dish, here a treasured piece by Betty Woodman.

chard gratin ingredients 2

In a small skillet, melt one tablespoon butter and brown one cup of panko or other bread crumbs.  Stir in three tablespoons of fresh herbs – dill, parsley, chives, mint – and a finely minced clove of garlic.  Strew the crumbs over the chard mixture and bake at 350° for 25 minutes until browned and bubbly.

ready to bake


In the New York Times I found a delicious looking recipe for asparagus and orzo with lemon.  Succulent pasta, lots of tender asparagus, and again, crunchy bread crumbs.

orzo with asparagus

Cook a cup of orzo in boiling water until almost tender.  Drop in a pound of asparagus, trimmed and cut on the diagonal into 1/4 inch pieces and cook for a couple more minutes.  Drain and toss with the dressing – 1/4 cup of olive oil, the zest and juice of a lemon, salt and pepper.  When cool,  add 1/4 cup or so of grated parmesan, and 1/2 cup chopped dill, parsley and mint.  Top the salad with 1/2 cup of panko that has been browned in a tablespoon of olive oil. Serve warm or at room temperature.

orzo with asparagus 2

And finally, a lentil salad from Yotam Ottolenghi’s Plenty.   I had roasted tomatoes on hand so this dish was a quicky but if your pantry does not hold them, they are easy to make and a great condiment to have on hand.

Halve largish cherry tomatoes or small Romas and place, cut side up on a baking sheet lined with parchment.  I do this in the toaster oven. Drizzle with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, some crushed, chopped garlic and salt.  Bake at 275° for an hour and a half until semi-dried but still juicy.  Store in a jar, covered in a thin layer of olive oil, in the fridge.

Put 1/2 a small, thinly sliced red onion in a bowl with a big pinch of salt and a tablespoon of red wine vinegar.  Let them marinate while you cook a cup of black or French green lentils.  I used Rancho Gordo black caviar lentils – superb.  Toss with olive oil, salt and pepper, then, while lentils are warm, add the onions and vinegar.  When cool, stir in lots of chopped parsley, dill and chives.

On a platter or individual plates, layer the lentils and onions with roasted tomatoes and crumbled bleu cheese.  I like mild Amish blue here but the original recipe calls for gorgonzola.

lentil salad





A Guest Writer

mimi and melons

Summer  2012, oil on canvas, 18 x 18 inches

Last spring I introduced you to my sister Mimi, a gardener and cook living on Straw Dog Farm, her home of over thirty years in central Missouri.  I am pleased that she will contribute to this blog with the occasional piece about her life in the garden.


It can feel difficult to navigate these troubled waters. Crises on many fronts. Pain and anger, death and sickness. Exhaustion. I remind myself I’m a tiny cog in this machine we call our world, that I have a part to play, and I need to do it well to contribute to the smooth running of this machine. So I work harder, smile more and feel grateful for my good life, as I celebrate us all.

Mimi Hedl



My culinary herb garden began its life 30 years ago. It has become a temple, of sorts, to my love and appreciation for the magic herbs give to food. The most humble of meals becomes a taste and visual treat with the addition of parsley, cilantro, or any of the other herbs people the world over have discovered and honor. If cooks knew how easily most herbs grow, our meals would taste richer.

Every year I try to add another herb to one of the formal beds or along the edges, where rougher herbs like epazote can ramble. It’s wonderful to see the delight on a friend’s face when they recognize an herb from their homeland. I especially remember, Saori, a young Japanese woman, who shouted enthusiastically when she saw beef steak plant, “Shiso, shiso! You have shiso!” And she proceeded later, to make tempura batter and show us how her family eats this herb. And it does taste like beef steak.

layout of culinary garden 2

The garden sits about 200 feet from the kitchen. When I have guests and realize I forgot to pick the tarragon or basil, dill or cilantro, I’ll ask my friend to please run out to the herb garden and bring back a handful. Suddenly their eyes glaze over. “You mean out there by the sauna?”  Yes, I’ll reply as I cook another tortilla. After 10 minutes I’ll rush out to the garden and see them puzzling, walking around in somewhat of a trance, with several herbs in their hand. I then realize I should’ve had them watch the fire as I fetched the herb. It’s a big, strange world out there to the uninitiated used to buying herbs in plastic containers with labels. Now, however, with the addition of my new ceramic labels, the guess work has disappeared.

sage and rue2

Our sister Susan discovered pottery years ago but when she retired she had time to play and explore the possibilities. She’s made beautiful bowls, bonsai containers, ikebana vases, and many, many other things as she allows clay to lead her. Now these ceramic tags.

Last fall, as we talked on the phone, I casually asked if she could make plant labels. She said she’d never done it but felt sure she could. And like a house on fire, she experimented, came up with ideas, and started asking more questions than I had answers for. I tried to slow her down a bit, so I wouldn’t have to do my part, write down the names of the herbs, make choices… (Pathetic, I know.) She’d have no truck with that. She wanted to do it. And now! (This comes from our mother, who would’ve made a great general.) Finally I told her I trusted her judgment completely, to keep them simple. Susan and I decided on a shape and the rest I left in her hands.

When I came home from a trip in November, I found them waiting for me. I hadn’t planned on unwrapping the box, but when she asked what I thought of them, I felt I’d better look and see. I was stunned by the two I opened. Wow! I said to myself, and to her, then stored them until just a few weeks ago and had another Wow!  as I viewed one after another of these beautiful tags.

garden sorrel

We’ve had a cold, wet spring. Weeds grow apace. Finally the head gardener had time to dutifully prepare the beds for the labels and a few days ago I ceremoniously planted them in their proper bed and smiled at how official, how open for business, this culinary garden looked. I even spied Brother Cadfael, who has an apothecary garden connected to this culinary garden, sneaking, yes, sneaking over to the herb beds to snatch up some chervil that hadn’t gone to seed.

You can see a few of the herbs that have come into their own, despite the cool spring. Garden sorrel, a sour herb, tastes delicious in salads, in soups, or a leaf or two grabbed as you pass by looking for a sharp taste in your mouth.  Sage flowers beautifully and in the background, rue flowers its lovely yellow blooms. I read that gardeners in Central Park in New York City can’t keep rue plants in their gardens, because someone pilfers them as soon as they go in the earth. I like that. Here, they self-sow with abandon and become host plants for swallowtails later in the summer. Italians use the leaves in salads, in small doses. Some people, including me, get a dermatitis from the leaves on hot summer days, when sweat pours down and the leaves react with your skin and the sun.

rose de rescht, rue and lemon balm 2

Although no labels appear at the entrance to the culinary garden, you can see the rose de rescht that flavors a rose petal wine and the lemon balm behind the roses that also make a delicious wine, as well as tea. And more rue I’d kindly share with the gardens in Central Park.

As the herbs come into their own in each bed, I’ll write more about each and you’ll get a closer glimpse of the plant and the label Susan made.

With much appreciation for the fine work of Susan this was produced by Barbara, written by Mimi and inspired by Susan.

culinary garden



These last weeks isolated at home have made me  appreciate how lucky we are to live on this hillside.  We read about the terrible pandemic and the loss of lives, shop for groceries only  every ten days or so, miss seeing our friends, and feel sad that favorite restaurants and shops are closed and struggling to survive. But for us, with studios and home in one spot,  life goes on in an almost normal fashion.

I have put off writing here because of ennui and lack of focus.  I found it hard to accomplish much besides making meals, gardening and exercising.  My creative endeavors stall out after feeble attempts to carry on.

But I have been cooking and here are some of the dishes we have enjoyed.  Earlier this year I had revived a sourdough starter stored in the freezer.  In late March, when it was impossible to find yeast, I used it to make bread.  As a frugal cook, I hated having to discard part of the starter each time I fed it, so was excited to find recipes online for using this to make English muffins, pancakes, and crackers.

sourdough bread

english mufins

King Arthur flour company has been a particularly useful site for baking recipes.  With some of my hoarded yeast I made ‘Beautiful Burger Buns’ to have with buffalo burgers.


A new pita bread recipe from Smitten Kitchen promised to produce big balloons but mine didn’t puff.  They tasted great but were flat breads not pockets. Perhaps I need to make an altitude adjustment and use more water in the dough.

pita baked

Aside from baking, I have made falafel, some to eat with my flat pita, the rest to freeze for another meal.


We have enjoyed old favorites such as kale salad with apples (recipe in First Post).

kale salad

I have been scanning my many cookbooks for inspiration.  Deborah Madison’s volumes are a treasure.  I made two of her delicious recipes ─ one for masa crepes filled with chard and chiles ─  from Vegetarian Suppers


For the crepe batter:

Combine and whizz in the blender 3 eggs, 1 1/2 cups milk, 1/2 cup masa harina, 1/2 cup unbleached flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 3 tablespoons safflower oil or melted butter.

The filling combines sauteed onions, jalapeños, oregano, cilantro, garlic and chard.  I added some thick yogurt and grated cheese. 


The crepes are filled, folded into quarters, then fried in a little butter.

masa crepes

Another Madison recipe ─ scrambled eggs with corn, tortillas and salsa ─ from The Savory Way.

In a tablespoon of butter, saute a couple green onions – chopped, a handful of cilantro – chopped, and a cup of corn, fresh off the cob or thawed from frozen.  When tender, pour over four beaten eggs and scramble to your likeness.  Have ready two plates with two warm corn tortillas.  Ladle over the eggs and top with grated jack or cheddar and your favorite salsa.

scrambled eggs and corn 2



From close to far apart

maggie and nina

Breakfast on Green Lane 1987, 48 x 66 inches, oil on canvas  (Margaretta Gilboy and Nina Goldstein Reid)

Just over a month ago we returned from a relaxing visit to Hawaii.  In our first weeks home we rushed from Boulder to Denver and back for exhibitions and artist talks.   I had been sorry to miss the opening of my late friend Maggie Gilboy’s retrospective at BMoCA and the opportunity to talk with the many friends and family who gathered to celebrate this wonderful artist.  I had my chance to honor her when Simon Zalkind, the curator, and I presented a conversation about Maggie, her life and work, as we sat in the museum amongst her paintings.


Margaretta Gilboy, Portrait of Barbara Shark 1982, 36 x 44 inches, oil on linen

Prints from Shark’s Ink. are in several exhibitions around the area. We viewed the show at 15th Street Gallery, Boulder and Bud gave a talk at Michael Warren Contemporary in Denver.  This was the usual commotion of our art life.

Hard to believe the changes in the world since then.

Bud caught a head cold and spent a couple weeks recuperating.   I got the bug and am feeling better.  With colds and physical distancing,  we needed a treat.  I decided to bake cookies only to find I had run out of flour.  Flour.  A staple around here, one that never runs out.  Until now.  And there was no flour to be found in my usual grocery stores.  I am amazed that everyone seems to be baking.  Who could predict what times like these bring about?

I did have almonds and the perfect flour-free macaroon recipe from Patricia Wells.  Simple and delicious.

Almond Macaroons

   Lightly toast 1 cup of raw almonds.  Cool, then whizz in the Cuisinart with 3/4 cup sugar until sandy and finely ground.

macaroon ingredients

macaroon ingredients 2

    Add 1/3 cup egg whites, usually from two large eggs, but do measure.  Add 1/2 teaspoon vanilla, 1/4 teaspoon almond extract, and a pinch of salt. Whizz until combined.  Drop teaspoonsful on a parchment lined sheet, an inch or two apart – they spread just a bit.

ready to bake

Bake at 375° for 10 -12 minutes.  Cool on a rack.  This makes about 30, 2 1/2 inch cookies.


I was left with two egg yolks and didn’t want to waste them so I made a lemon pudding for our dinner dessert.  A simple, delicious treat for two.

lemon pudding

Lemon Pudding 

Combine 6 tablespoons sugar and 2 tablespoons cornstarch in a saucepan.  Whisk in 1 1/4 cups milk (I had 2%) until smooth. 

Add the two egg yolks, a tablespoon lemon zest and a pinch of salt. Whisk smooth.   Cook gently over medium heat, stirring, until thickened.  This took maybe 10 minutes, but watch carefully and adjust the heat to prevent scorching or boiling over. 

Remove from heat and add 1 tablespoon butter and 1/4 cup lemon juice.  Pour into cups and cool, then chill in the fridge for a couple hours.  Cover if saving for another day.

The recipe is easily doubled.  Use three egg yolks and twice the other ingredients.

(If you make the pudding and not the macaroons, you will have 2 egg whites left over.  Put them in a small jar and freeze, ready to defrost and make macaroons another time. )

Roseanne scouted out a bag of flour for me, and Bronwyn of Lyons PT dropped off a few pounds from her 50 pound stash, so I’m set for bread and treat baking during this trying time.

I hope some of you are also venturing into the tasty world of baking.  Buon Appetito!

Tropical bounty

Friends 1991

Friends 1992, pastel on paper, ~22 x 30 inches

Someone in the neighborhood is roasting coffee.  The deep, burnt, delicious smell competes with the sweet aroma of the flowering coffee trees growing down below the lanai where I write this.  These are our last days in Holualoa and I seek to hold on to the sights and fragrance of this paradise to lighten the cold snowy days awaiting us back home.

And I want a last taste of the bounty of this place, the avocados, papayas, tangerines, coffee, bananas, limes and lemons and the fish.

lemon tree2

The old lemon tree growing in front of the studio fell down last week.  I hadn’t been able to pick the lemons growing  high up in the thorned branches until the tree lay on its side, the Kona lemons now within my reach.  A sad sight indeed.

The lemons are large and lumpy, and very juicy.  I squeezed a few to make the base for lemonade lightly sweetened with a sugar syrup.

For some reason, I hadn’t yet baked banana muffins, a favorite made with apple bananas, small and delicately tart.  With our imminent departure, I quickly whipped up a batch to accompany our lunchtime salad.

banana muffins

This recipe makes a good loaf of banana bread too.

Cream together 6 tablespoons butter and 1/3 cup brown sugar.  Stir in 2 eggs, 1 teaspoon vanilla and 3 mashed apple bananas (or 2 regular). Add 1 1/2 cups flour, 1 teaspoon baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon salt. Stir in 1 cup macadamia nuts (or walnuts). Bake at 400° for 25 minutes. Makes 10 muffins.

Ka Lae 2001

Ka Lae 2001, oil on canvas, ~40 x 72 inches

Over the years, Hawaii has provided me with many images from which to make paintings and drawings.  The drawing of Bud and Hiroki, at the top of this post, hangs in the Morinoue dining room in Holualoa.  We had dinner there a few days ago and I took great pleasure in seeing it.  One of the guests, not knowing I was the artist, commented that she had been admiring the piece. What more acknowledgement can I ask?


Fishing 1993, oil on canvas, about 60 x 40 inches

We’ve eaten a lot of fish while here, ahi, mahimahi, marlin.  Grilled at Lava Java by the sea wall down in Kona, sushi up north in Hawi at Sushi Rock and at Shiona in Kona for my birthday.  I like to sear a hunk of ahi to top a salad.


So, as we visit our favorite beach and seaside walk, bid goodbye to dear friends, and eat the last papaya for breakfast, we say aloha and mahalo to this lovely place.

Looking Back 004

Leaving Hawaii 2001, charcoal on paper, ~30 x 64 inches

Avocados in Holualoa

opening coconuts (1)

Opening Coconuts 1992, pastel on paper, 20 x 30 inches  (Hiroki and Miho)


The enormous old avocado tree next to the house has been delivering its fruit to the doorstep here in Holualoa.  It is thrilling to find huge avocados, barely grazed from their fall, waiting to be made into guacamole and added to every salad and salsa.

Don Ed Hardy has been with us to make prints with Bud.  He’s a great help in eating the plentitude of avocados and in adding three lovely prints to the Shark’s Ink. collection.

But there are so many avocados!  After a week of this bounty, I have reconciled to discarding all but the perfect ones.  Paging through my little Hawaii cooking notebook I found several avocado recipes I had forgotten. So, for dinner with John and Debby, I made a cold avocado soup (recipe in How I Learned to Cook…), first made with Bob Kushner. Simple to make in the blender, it is a combination of one large avocado, coconut milk, yogurt, jalapeño, and spices.  Very more-ish.


I made a focaccia to serve alongside. Next came a favorite salad I make only in Holualoa ─  Papaya and Shrimp.  We eat papayas each morning here and often in a salsa or this salad.  They are a welcome addition to our Hawaii diet.


For the salad, one and a half papayas, cubed, a julienned cucumber, a pound of cooked shrimp, avocado chunks, and macadamia nuts are chilled, then tossed with the dressing:

3 tablespoons of lime juice, 2 tablespoons brown sugar, 2 tablespoons Thai fish sauce, 1/2 teaspoon Chinese chili sauce, (or a big pinch of hot pepper flakes), 2 teaspoons finely chopped ginger, 2 minced green onions, and a small handful of cilantro, chopped. 

The original recipe in Pacific Flavors called for a diced red pepper but I didn’t have one.  Serve over a bed of lettuces or spinach.

papaya shrimp salad

Another recipe, for an avocado chocolate pudding from my friend Cydney, awaits another dinner party.  Meanwhile, who wants guacamole?


A New Year

Lunch at Greens

Lunch at Greens 2008, oil on canvas, 18 x 44 inches

My new year has arrived with resolutions and menus that include dishes made with simple winter ingredients.  We received some wonderful food gifts for Christmas ─ jams and salsa from Zoë, a Spanish food assortment from James and Noriko and interesting olive oil and vinegar from sister Susan to add to the beans, grains and root vegetables of the season.

gifts 2

Instead of my usual habit of hoarding these special nibbles, I decided to use them without delay.  So we had grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with mustard and Zoë’s strawberry/balsamic jam.  Delish!  And shrimp and butternut squash tacos garnished with her Peach Salsa. The candied walnuts and Susan’s pecans quickly disappeared.

Included in our Spanish gift box were two jars of tuna packed in olive oil, something I have eyed in the La Tienda catalog but never ordered.  Anxious to taste it, I fashioned a tuna and bean salad, with white cassoulet beans from my Rancho Gordo stash.


I warmed the cooked beans so the dressing would permeate more completely.


Then dressed them in a combination of lemon juice, mustard, minced garlic (for garlic-allergic Jan, use a shallot), a splash of the lemon-infused olive oil, salt, and some plain olive oil.


Added two stalks of thinly sliced celery and three julienned radishes, then the broken up tuna.

ready to plateI plated the salad into two servings, then garnished them with chopped parsley, dill, and shaved parmesan.  Served while the beans were still a bit warm.

the salad

At the last minute I decided to add a soft-boiled egg to each plate.  I recently learned an excellent, quick method for cooking eggs ─ steam them. (Thanks to Kenji López-Alt.)

In a  pot with a steamer basket bring an inch of water to a boil.  Add the eggs, straight from the fridge.  Steam for 6-7 minutes for a runny yolk, 9-10 minutes for a ‘hard-boiled’ egg.  I find this method fast and dependable, especially when I want a soft egg.  (I live at 6000 feet so adjust your timing accordingly.)

with egg

Serve the salad warm or at room temperature with slices of crusty bread and butter.

One of my resolutions for 2020 is to clear out the freezer and the pantry of past-their-prime foods or forgotten items.  I had a frozen tub of sourdough starter saved  for several years and wanted to see if it still had life.  I nursed it along with daily infusions of water and flour until it was bubbly and fragrant.


I used a combination of recipes and memories to concoct loaves to bake in a covered cast iron casserole.  One new trick is to do the final rise in a bowl lined with parchment.  Then lift the risen dough into the very hot casserole.  No inverting and having dough stick, or getting a painful burn.

I’ll continue to comb through my cupboards, spice drawer and the freezer for other forgotten goodies to enhance our winter meals.

Buon Appetito!