For the 20 or so years that my sister Janet and I were weekenders in this area, we found the time to entertain our little circle of friends on a somewhat frequent basis. I was cook and bartender, and Janet always did a bang-up job of setting a beautiful table and washing the many dishes at the end of a long night.
Jude's Culinary Journey
I have been thinking lately of how my Thanksgiving celebrations have morphed over time.
My sister Janet and I met Mimi in the winter of 2017 when she was occupying the room next to ours at the hotel Las Miraposas in Oaxaca, Mexico. Our rooms opened onto a small cement terrace complete with a fountain surrounded by potted flowering plants.
In late August, a friend and his partner sent out invitations for a Labor Day fete on Sunday, September 2. They had thrown a lovely outdoor gala for a couple dozen people two years prior at which the main event had been, amazingly (and generously) grilled lobster tails.
My parents, raising three children, weren’t able to swing a trip abroad until their 25th anniversary. In anticipation of this milestone celebration, my mother bought herself a handsome, bound journal and, though it was not exactly a diary of their daily adventures, she did jot down the names of interesting shops and wrote of special sojourns.
At the tender age of five, I made a bee-line for the kitchen. It was my first day of Kindergarten, and as I entered the room, I spotted the most beautiful wooden kitchen set consisting of refrigerator, stove and oven, and a sink complete with faucets, under which was a cabinet for pots and pans. It was perfectly scaled to my diminutive size.
We are awaiting the arrival in a few days of our nephew Josh, his wife Jen and their 13-year-old son, Sammy. When they visited a year ago, it was announced that Sam had become a pescatarian. Who had heard the term before? Not I. I looked it up.
I have a small, fenced-in garden just steps from our front porch, making it a breeze to snip a handful of chives to garnish a cherry tomato salad or grab some mint for mojitos when we want a break from margaritas.
When my sister, Janet, and I were in Mexico a couple months back, I heard her tell a Californian we had befriended that the season after winter in upstate New York is mud. It certainly seems an appropriate description as I am writing this is in early April.
This February my sister Janet and I hightailed it, as many of our friends do, to a warmer climate. We chose Oaxaca, Mexico, a favorite vacation destination for years.