Trying new things on for size: micro-seasonal eating and other traditions

For those who grow their own food or eat with the seasons, you well know the difference between a plump tomato just plucked from its vine and still warm from the sun and its sad wintry counterpart, the mealy, pale, flavorless orb. The former needs no ornamentation, the latter requires a dramatic amount of it.

I've learned a lot by eating seasonally. What's available in my garden or at the farmers market is what's at the peak of freshness because it's what grows well at that given time.

I've also learned a lot by eating in an even more micro-fashion; the old When in Rome. What's available fresh in any given city or area -Gullah food in coastal South Carolina, for example- or what is traditionally served on a given holiday in a certain part of the world -the Christmas Eve Feast of the Seven Fishes in Italy, place-specific stuffings on Thanksgiving Day in America...

Although St. Patrick's Day in the U.S. is most definitely a uniquely American variation on its real Irish counterpart, celebrating the day because it's also Oliver's birthday, has led me back to the annual delight of a corned beef and cabbage feast. 

Literally, I make this once a year, but it's a culinary way to mark this bit of time in March. It's a way to make Ol's birthday mean that much more, linking it to a tradition and country larger and beyond him and us and our family. It's an excuse to read books, study traditions and learn more about a culture, people and language we might not otherwise. 

Sometime during the week leading up to March 17, we start toasting each other with Sláinte (meaning Good Health in Gaelic), talking about the whys and hows behind the celebration of St. Patrick, learning a bit more each year about Ireland and its history, and looking forward to visiting that country some day.

The capstones are Ol's party and our family dinner, and even though the boys still don't like turnips, still prefer raw cabbage to poached, and the unyielding fact that we have zero Irish ancestry, I like the tradition of the whole thing and appreciate the ways in which food can enlarge perspective and understanding and palate, all in one delicious bite after another.

We gain so much by seeking to experience new and unfamiliar tastes and experiences, places and tongues, people and systems of belief. Doing these things is the path to greater understanding: of self, other, and the countless ways we're all connected. If we don't do so, we stagnate and become smaller, closed, less engaged and committed to the greater global community than we can and should be.

A festive spirit goes a long way: 40 in forty

"Mama, you are always up for a party," Oliver said to me as I prepped for our Academy Awards fete last month. 

"Right you are, Ol," I replied, pleased that he's noticed. "A festive spirit makes life more fun."

I attribute a great deal of my spirit to having grown up in Louisiana where pretty much anything --from birth, marriage, and death- are cause for some sort of celebration. I think there's much to be said about a place where parties are thrown so regularly and where even the saddest funeral is lightened with laughter over fond, shared memories at one point or another. Second lines, wakes, weddings, Mardi Gras, Christmastime, all infused with music, food, drink and a varying degree of fancy dress...well, suffice it to say that Louisiana is an animated place.

It is also true that I've always enjoyed bringing people together and that doing so causes me no worry or stress. Mom used to pay me to worry for her before parties she threw; easiest job I ever had because the preparation didn't vex me in the slightest.

There are moments in which I've regretted planning a party, or felt overwhelmed by the timing of it, but I've never lamented actually carrying through with the plans.

I've also found that a merry nature can make the dullest meeting more pleasant, enable me to get to know others in ways I might not otherwise, and make less major moments feel special and joyful. Half-birthdays, a random Tuesday, you get my drift. This spirit of embracing and celebrating is something I try hard to pass on to my boys. I think they're doing a fine job so far.

Life is hard, the weeks can feel awfully long, and sometimes all it takes is popping a cork-of champagne, wine or sparkling apple cider- and using stemware or asking a few friends over for dinner or channeling your inner kid to bring some needed lightness to it all.

Time spent laughing is never time wasted. And joy shared is a lovely gift for all involved.

Ol's 7th birthday party was today

His character name was Darth Leprechaun. I do NOT worry about this kid's spirit.

Ol's Pot of Gold cake

40 in forty: Know your limits

I have been full-on extroverting all week, and while I have felt very happy and energized, by this morning I could tell that if I didn't spend some time by myself, quiet, recharging my own batteries, I might burst. And not in a good way. There may have been tears during coffee this morning. I'm just saying. Let's call them the final Code Red warning sign.

40 in forty tip: To thine own self be true.

I rarely go biblical, but those are some true-ass words. 

People, at the end of the day, you have yourself, and if that self is a pale, wan, deflated balloon of an entity, you don't have much to work with or go on. Feel me?

I was almost obnoxiously happy yesterday, so after I dried my tears this morning I decided the next best step would be to get dressed in nice clothes so that at least my exterior would look polished at the Middle School tour for parents starting at 9. 

It was lovely to see familiar faces and catch up with friends I don't cross paths with often enough, but by the gym locker room viewing, I'd gotten the drift, had my fill, and was feeling borderline bursty.

Not that many years ago, I'd have stayed. Obligation, decorum, a sense of politeness would have prevailed. But today, I acknowledged that I've already seen what we were about to visit and so politely shook hands with the principal, thanked her profusely, and went on my way.

I ran some errands, changed clothes and high-tailed it to my yard where I ignored every beep from my phone, unearthed hairy bittercress (funny how the nemesis weed of Jack's toddlerhood is still with us), planted some bulbs, rued the depleted soil, amended it with everything I had available, visited with a neighbor and then baked Ol's birthday party cakes for tomorrow.

I was by my lonesome for a good six hours, and sister, did I need it. I am so much better for knowing my limits and needs and honoring them. Do it, y'all!