Ode to Cocoa Beach

Yes, I know it's silly to dedicate a post to a box of cereal, especially considering that I did not make the cereal myself. I can't help it, this heavenly granola from Kashi is just sooooo delicious!

Let me list the reasons why you should immediately search and find every box of Cocoa Beach you can:

1)The delicious, subtle chocolate flavor that reminds you, just a little, of the chocolate cereals that you consumed as a child.
2)The huge shards of dried coconut mixed into the aforementioned chocolate granola.
3)Chunks of almond, a welcome addition to any cereal, granola, entree, or snack.


Oh, Cocoa Beach, how glad I am to have finally found you, after scouring aisle after aisle in store after store. How grateful I am to the Safeway on El Camino for stocking you on its shelves...

Yes, I should return to the more serious posting. After I've had a mid-afternoon snack of Cocoa Beach.

Bleak House

This summer I took it upon myself to take a Continuing Studies course at Stanford taught by the dean of the MLA program, in which I am now enrolled. She'll be teaching some of my later courses, in the second year of the program, so I thought it would be good to establish my relationship with her early. Incidentally, her area of expertise is Victorian literature, which just so happens to be MY area of "academic interest." The summer course, "Bleak House: From the Slums of London to the Haunted Parks of Lincolnshire" was irresistible to me. For all my professions of adoration for Charles Dickens, I am ashamed to admit that I've only read (now that I've completed Bleak House) four of his novels. That's certainly enough to acknowledge and respect his tremendous talent, and I have embarked on a quest to read all of his works.

Of the Dickens novels I have read, Bleak House stands as the most triumphant, a truly brilliant novel that defies expectations, not only for the fine writing and deft storytelling, but pure entertainment value as well. It's a story of the connections that are made in a society that has become rife with corruption and degradation. With the law and an interminably long civil case setting the background, we are introduced to a wide and diverse cast of characters who seem to be connected to each other in more ways than we can imagine. (My professor emphasized throughout our course that on a second reading, the connections are even more profuse and evident!) It is told in two separate (well, seemingly separate) narratives, one through the voice of Esther Summerson (Dickens' only female narrator!) the other through an omniscient narrator.

To summarize the story in the briefest way possible, Esther Summerson is an orphan of unknown parentage who is taken under the wing of John Jarndyce, an heir of the infamous Jarndyce and Jarndyce case, along with two other young innocents who have some interest in the case, Richard and Ada. Alongside this central story of Esther is the mystery surrounding Lady Dedlock, the wife of Sir Leicester Dedlock, a member of the steadily dwindling aristocracy. Lady Dedlock has a potentially devastating secret, and the the ruthless, heartless attorney Tulkinghorn is set to discover the specifics of the secret.



At the time that Dickens wrote Bleak House, London was steadily become more of an urban center. Progress was everywhere, though squalor was increasingly evident. The rich were getting richer, but the poor were getting poorer-London had grown rapidly, but without a plan to take care of its citizens. It was a world without health or clarity. The upper and middle classes seemed to either have no idea how bad things could get, or chose to ignore it. In the core of London, poverty and disease were rampant. In writing Bleak House, Dickens wanted his readers to "Take a better look at the rotten world in which you live." Throughout the novel, we meet all kinds of characters who are representatives of that world. Jo, the poor crossing-sweeper, angelic in his simplicity; Mrs. Jellyby, a shocking and silly example of philanthropic stupidity; Harold Skimpole, who proposes to know nothing about everything and lives his life dependent on the charity of others; Allan Woodcourt, a kindly doctor who feels a burden for those suffering around him; and Inspector Bucket, the incorrigible detective who is intent on ferreting out the truth, but in a more hopeful and true way than Tulkinghorn. Though Dickens seems to criticize almost every element of society, from religion to the courts, he builds a story that is difficult to turn away from.




As it turns out, Esther is the illegitimate daughter of Lady Dedlock, who had believed that Esther died at birth. Esther's father, dies a penniless opium addict, and she never learns of his existence. Lady Dedlock is devastated to learn that her child is indeed alive, and heartbroken at the pain that would be caused by the public revelation of these facts. The reader is never made privy to the details of Lady Dedlock's relationship with Esther's father; suffice to say they certainly loved each other and were seemingly separated by unknown societal concerns.

There is much more to the story than this central mystery, and I shouldn't like to take away from the powerful significance of the cast as a whole. I would like to include a few of my favorite passages in this post.

Mr. George, sharing with the Bagnet family his feelings about leaving his mother many years ago:

"The time will come, my boy," pursues the trooper, "when this hair of your mother's will be grey, and this forehead all crossed and re-crossed with wrinkles-and a fine old lady she'll be then. Take care, while you are young, that you can think in those days, "I never whitened a hair of her dear head, I never marked a sorrowful line on her face."

Sir Leicester at the time of his realization about Lady Dedlock's secret and his ensuing devastation at her flight:

It is she, in association with whom, saving that she has been for years a main fibre of the root of his dignity and pride, he has never had a selfish thought. It is she whom he has loved, admired, honored, and set up for the world to respect. It is she, who, at the core of all the constrained formalities and conventionalities of his life, has been a stock of living tenderness and love, susceptible as nothing else is of being struck with the agony he feels. He sees her, almost to the exclusion of himself; and cannot bear to look upon her cast down from the high place she has graced so well.

And, even to the point of his sinking on the ground, oblivious of his suffering, he can yet pronounce her name with something like distinctness in the midst of these intrusive sounds, and in a tone of mourning and compassion rather than reproach.

This last passage is the most poignant to me-I was moved to tears as I read, and still feel choked up as I revisit the words. My professor shared a most wonderful belief about Dickens with us-he believes in the power of the human heart, to redeem us all. I think of that when I read about Sir Leicester's suffering. I know, because I read the book, that Lady Dedlock did indeed love her husband-the story isn't really so much about her love for Esther's father, but so much more. And yet, she crumbled under the weight of the pain and love in her heart.

I could continue to write about Bleak House, and these few mere words are not justice enough for it-I merely wanted to document a bit about what I learned, and share some of the words that I cherished most.

My Summer Cake!

Throughout the summer (which is quickly coming to an end, alas!), I have had the privilege of attending several lovely evening parties. One of my favorite things about California is the penchant seemingly shared by all to entertain outside, taking advantage of shady backyards, cool patios, Adirondack chairs and teak furniture. Usually the gathering starts in the late afternoon, so you can still enjoy the warmth of the sun as you sit with a beverage in hand, chatting with neighbors who feel as lucky and happy to enjoy the weather as you do. As the evening moves on and the air tends to become more crisp and cool, a fire pit is often called for, and usually everyone will choose to remain outside, warming their hands by the fire and enjoying coffee and dessert.

I brought a dessert to two of these evening parties, which just so happens to be so easy and delightful I had to share it. It's a simple white layer cake, and it's light, refreshing and a breeze to prepare!

White Cake (from The Settlement Cookbook)
1/2 cup butter
1 cup sugar
2 cups cake flour
3 tsp. baking powder
2/3 cup milk
1/2 tsp almond extract
grated rind of 1 lemon
3 egg whites

Preheat oven to 350. Cream butter, add sugar, and continue beating. Sift flour once, measure, sift with baking powder 3 times, add to the butter mixture, alternately with the milk, beat thoroughly until smooth, add flavoring. (By the way, I did not do all the sifting-it didn't seem to make much of a difference) Carefully fold in egg whites (this is the step that my sister declared makes the cake more complicated than I think, and it is annoying and slow to beat the egg whites, but the finished product is very nice), beaten stiff but not dry. Butter and flour a 12 x 8 pan (yet another flexible part of the recipe-I used two mismatched round springform pans and attempted to pour approximately the same amount of batter in each one, again, it all turned out fine). Put the batter into the pan and bake about 1 hour (My baking time was shorter-after 30 minutes I began to check the cakes regularly. They definitely did not take an hour to bake.)

While the cakes bake, whip fresh cream (at least 1 cup, but more is always nice). Slice a pint's worth of strawberries (again, more is always nicer) and sprinkle with sugar. When the cakes are done and cooled, spread a thin layer of jam (raspberry, strawberry, or any sort of mixed berry) on each layer. Top the jam with sliced strawberries, then with a layer of whipped cream. Repeat these steps for the top layer. Try to artfully arrange the strawberries on the top layer, and add a mint leaf or two for a nice touch.

That's it! A delicious, heavenly summer dessert!

the Twilight phenomenon

Well, I must admit...the Twilight saga hardly qualifies as literature. Teenage vampire romances and the works of Elizabeth Gaskell hardly belong in the same sentence. I am not so pretentious a reader, however, to discriminate to such an extent that I would deny myself the pleasure of what I call "fluff" reading or "mindless entertainment." Goodness, Stephanie Meyer would probably cringe if she heard her writing referred to as fluff. I love reading, and while I planned to focus on the books and novels that I've found to be extremely influential or powerful (namely, classic literature, Pulitzer Prize winners, recommendations from my mother, etc.) I must deviate just this once to express my absolute adoration for Twilight.

I picked up the first book only due to my sister's insistence-she sheepishly admitted her addiction to the story over the phone, even hinting that she had to attempt to restrain herself from immediately diving into the second and third books. I vaguely remembered seeing bits and pieces about it on www.ew.com, one of the websites that I shamelessly read through every day. Yes, I'm a pop culture addict, and I know how utterly useless my vast wealth of pop culture knowledge is-there is absolutely nothing productive or helpful about it!

Needless to say, I agreed to read the book-I was going to be home for Bloys Campmeeting-a delightful week of every year which deserves its own post-and I love having the aforementioned fluff reading for a vacation. I thought Twilight would suit my needs perfectly. Little did I know that I was soon to be swept up into, yes, a teenage vampire romance!

I'm not sure what it is about the books that makes them so utterly captivating, what specific aspect of the romance that is so heart-wrenching, enviable, and compelling. Certainly the wry, self-deprecating tones of the heroine, Bella are appealing. She's unusual in that she is plain, perfectly ordinary, and in fact quite clumsy to boot. Grace is not one of her redeeming qualities. And Edward...smooth, devastatingly handsome, a hero every girl imagines could be real. Perhaps it is those very qualities in him, and that he should choose to fall for someone like Bella gives the ordinary girl hope. These are all very obvious reasons to enjoy the story, certainly. I would be remiss if I didn't mention the undeniably sensual nature that seems to hover over the private scenes with Edward and Bella. It's a commonly known fact that we all tend to want what we cannot have, and in Edward and Bella's case, what they cannot have, seemingly, is a normal future. A future where they can actually be together, and where, in the words of Robert Pattison (the captivating, charming, PERFECTLY cast actor who will be playing Edward on 11/21/08), Edward won't want to "kill her, like, all of the time."

To get back to the slightly embarrassing subject of sensuousness, I must admit, one can't peruse the pages of the romance without feeling a bit "hot and bothered", for lack of a better description. The author is Mormon, and she does not allow for anything explicit, gratuitous, or impure. Despite their desires, so carefully kept in check-though not without difficulty-, Edward and Bella retain their virtue. Rarely in our world of instant gratification do we come across, in literature or film, a couple like them. And yet, it's impossible not to become completely absorbed in their romance, which is so not of this world...

So yes, I recommend, HIGHLY, the entire Twilight series. I dare anyone (well, anyone female, at least) not to enjoy it, or at least one book or two. I myself have purchased the entire series so that I can return to the romance whenever I feel like it. It's an irresistible story, and certainly difficult to forget.

*Since writing this post, in a most stream-of-consciousness way, I have had the chance to dwell on the books a bit more, and I have to add more to my comments. A great part of the appeal of the series is most certainly found in the inherent goodness of the characters. As I mentioned before, it's not often in our current society that we encounter anything not marked by the more depraved aspects of humanity-television, film, books, and magazines are filled to the brim with filth, darkness, and depression most of the time. Rarely are positive role models celebrated or even put forth. Instead, most heroes and heroines of pop culture have attained their status by simply not being "too awful" or compromising only a little. The Twilight series presents a cast of characters that are almost exclusively kind, generous, and real, who value virtue and goodness. The books are a breath of fresh air.

Musings

From the very beginning, I didn't plan to be an obsessive blogger. I planned to post when I felt like it, when the urge to write, to spill the words out, was overpowering. I can't deny that in spite of those feelings, I'm disappointed in myself for letting months slip by without a word, even though I know that it's only one or two people who even check to see that I've written. Blogging, for me, was just supposed to be something therapeutic, where I shared something that I'd cooked or a book I'd read, purely for me, really. My circumstances as of late, however, have made me wonder whether or not blogging is something that I SHOULD be doing, all the time! Maybe I'm made for blogging! At least, at this point in my life, I might be made for it...

I've been living in California now for just over two months. It's always been a place that I felt "suited" me. I love where I come from, and that I'm a Texan at heart will never change. I've always been something of a wandering soul, however...it's as though I knew that I would end up somewhere different from what I'd always known. It is rather arrogant of me to assign such a romantic description to myself, I know.

To return to my contemplations of my new life-I love California. Just look at the picture above! "Is this Alaska?", one might wonder. "Colorado?" Actually, it's not. It's in Yosemite, in California, with all its glory. Northern California, in particular, is a place of beauty, golden hills studded with stalwart redwood trees and all manner of foliage, turbulent grey-blue waves crashing onto wild shores, the scent of every lovely plant known to man in the air (oranges, rosemary, fennel...the list is seemingly interminable!). I understand why the land is so valued-it is essentially because a precious little has been left for any sort of human development and the rest is untouched. This is a place where I can thrive, and I certainly consider myself fortunate.

What is new for me is the experience of not working. For the first time since I've graduated from high school, I do not have a job to start in these few days that mark the advent of autumn. What was I thinking?! How could I have imagined that I would ENJOY the time off, that I wouldn't miss the crisp air, freshly sharpened pencils, and acrid smell of wax on the school floors? I can tell myself a hundred times over that it's an opportunity that doesn't come along every day, but I am saddened and a not a little bit lonely when I think of myself sitting at home instead of laboring at school. Of course, I've recognized this mistake, and I now have plans in place-all of my paperwork should be arriving soon from Austin, I've begun to fill out many applications for substitute positions, and I'll be taking a California certification exam soon. However, for these days until I (hopefully) start receiving calls, I have to ponder what it's like to be out of work.

Now I'm led to my blog, once more. I could be one of those people, who don't let a day slip by without an update, who feel more complete because they've posted, who, at times, have supplemented a career with blog writing. I'm not sure if that's the path that I'll commit to, but it's certainly not a bad option. It's certainly better than sitting and checking the updates of other bloggers relentlessly.

Future topics for my blog: my reviews of "The Thorn Birds", the "Twilight" saga, and "Bleak House." I haven't been totally useless all summer.

A Sampling of Edna St. Vincent Millay

One of the first books I read in the summer that I moved to New York was "Savage Beauty", a biography of the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Edna St. Vincent Millay. As was often the case with artists of the Jazz Age, Edna lived a rather tempestuous life: she had many lovers, drank heavily, and eventually died at a relatively young age from a heart attack, though she suffered from the symptoms of alcoholism and morphine addiction. She was the first woman to win the Pulitzer, however, and her talent and influence remain uncontested.

Edna is most well known for poems such as "Renascence" and "The Ballad of the Harp-Weaver", and many of her verses were penned in taverns and cafes in Greenwich Village, the exclusive, beautifully historic neighborhood where Dave resided (and where I was fortunate enough to join him once we married). That first summer in New York, the biography and a street map provided me many enjoyable afternoons. I strolled through Greenwich Village, seeking out Edna's former apartment and Chumley's, a speakeasy well known for the attraction it held for writers and artists. Chumley's is still serving, believe it or not! I loved stepping in, for despite the dinginess and faint smell of smoke, it is truly incredible to be sitting or standing in the same spot as a famous writer of the 20's.

"First Fig" is one of Edna's most oft-quoted poems:

"My candle burns at both ends, it will not last the night. But ah my foes, and oh my friends, it gives a lovely light."

A sonnet I particularly enjoy:

"Love is not all; it is not meat or drink
Nor slumber, nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And risk and sink and rise and sink again;
Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolutions' power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would."

Finally, a simple poem that I hold very close to my heart. I have sent this poem to a very few precious people in my life, changing the color of the eyes to match them individually. The poem embodies the kind of person that I want to be, someone who seeks out the wisdom of loved ones, who provides for her family and friends a warm and comforting haven, who knows the value of spending time with each other (preferably with food and drink :) ), and the simple pleasures of life.

"Tavern"

I'll keep a little tavern
Below the high hill's crest
Wherein all grey-eyed people
May set them down and rest.

There shall be plates a-plenty
And mugs to melt the chill
Of all the grey-eyed people
Who happen up the hill.

There sound will sleep the traveler
And dream his journey's end
But I will rouse at midnight
The falling fire to tend.

Aye, 'tis a curious fancy-
But all the good I know
Was taught me out of two grey eyes
A long time ago.

A delicious breakfast, if I do say so myself...

One of my new cookbook acquisitions is "Eat What You Crave," by Ellie Krieger. Not only is it a beautifully photographed cookbook, it's full of healthy, flavorful recipes that don't seem to require vast amounts of effort. So far, I have made 4 of these recipes, and all have turned out splendidly.

My favorite, thus far, are the Whole Wheat Pancakes with Strawberry Sauce. Normally, I don't turn much to breakfast recipes. For one, they are usually impractical during the week, and most weekends I'd rather enjoy a leisurely bowl of cereal or oatmeal and not have to do much work. The picture of the pancakes in the cookbook sorely tempted me to make a special Saturday breakfast, and I am surely glad that I did!

The light, fluffy side of pancakes that you see in pictures belie the difficulty of making them. They're actually quite tricky. The pan has to be at just the right temperature-too hot, the pancakes will burn, not hot enough, they won't cook properly in the middle. In the past, it has been a veritable comedy of errors for me as I've attempted to make pancakes.

This effort proved to be a wonderful change! I feel quite sure the reason for my success is entirely due to the buttermilk, which is commonly known to make pancakes especially light and airy. The pancakes cooked in record time, and I was easily able to watch the simmering strawberry sauce whilst flipping the little brown cakes.

I felt even better after devouring several of the pancakes. They were absolutely delicious, and made me feel quite responsible and healthy for using whole wheat flour. They reminded me very much of the wheat germ pancakes my Aunt Kathy whipped up for us once.

It was also a great feeling to have made the effort for a nice weekend breakfast. Dave and I sat in the sunny corner where our little dining room table resides and enjoyed piles of pancakes and hot coffee while perusing magazines. It was a really lovely breakfast, and I plan to make the pancakes often.