quinoa, ham, and strawberry salad, aka Easter leftovers

Woke up this morning after a fitful night of little sleep, tho' I did catch up on some of my reading from about 1:30 to 3:30 a.m.  (this has all become rather routine, so I choose to see it as quiet time, uninterrupted, to read and journal more regularly…)  Suffice it to say, I slept through church.  Finding myself in an empty house over lunchtime, still a bit groggy and grumpy, I decided to cheer myself up in the kitchen.

Easter this year included 18 family members for dinner - a mix of Bedenbaughs, Hollingers, Clemens, and Pingitores - an enormous ham from the local butcher, Groff's, and fresh vegetables from Central Market in Downtown Lancaster, some of which still reside in my refrigerator even after generously giving away leftovers of mashed potatoes and ham to whomever wanted some.  So for dinner Monday evening for David and myself, I took stock of what was in the pantry and got creative.

I first fell in love with quinoa at John J. Jeffries, at the Arts Hotel in Lancaster.  Sean had been crafting these awesome salads of micro greens with a pressed quinoa concoction that I still get hungry for.  Truth be told, I'm always hungry for Chefs Michael and Sean's dishes, and the fresh, local menu only has one drawback - I crave something, and it's not on the menu any longer!  But something else new and incredible always takes its place, so I never leave unfulfilled.

Earlier this year, my daughter Jenna asked if I could come stay with my grandson Carson a day or two a week, while her mother-in-law (his usual sitter) was recuperating from surgery.  So for a few incredible weeks I got some extra one-on-one with my favorite little guy.  Typically our excursions included a visit to Mama in downtown Philadelphia for lunch, a chilly walk along the Brandywine River, or searching out the local Trader Joe's and Whole Foods to compile ingredients for dinner later (and ingredients I couldn't resist taking home to my own pantry, hence the quinoa).  I love to cook.  My daughter(s) don't.  They joke with my mother that cooking skipped a generation.  

Quinoa is gluten free, nutty and tasty, and quickly takes on the essence of whatever marinade or vegetables you add to it.  It's delicious hot as a side dish, or cold in a salad and super quick and easy to make.  Two parts water boiled, to one part quinoa - boil a minute or two, then let is simmer until the water is completely absorbed.  In this recipe I'm using 2 cups water and 1 cup quinoa.

Meanwhile, I pull out one of these awesome cobalt blue glass bowls I found at Ikea for 3.99 (another fun place Carson and I hang out).  Add two tablespoons of olive oil to the bottom, then chop and add a small handful of red bell pepper, two smashed and diced cloves of fresh garlic, two stalks of green onion, six pitted and halved black olives, a dash of balsamic vinegar, cracked pepper and salt to taste.  Set it aside.

I love Central Market, as my children can tell you - it was the first outing for each of them at five days old, and it continues to be my favorite place in the world.  Really.  The latest proliferation of independent organic growers, and responsibly sourced meats and dairy products, alongside the steadfast Amish and Mennonite fair, spice and fresh pasta, authentic Mediterranean, and the best latte (aside from Folklore), one can't help but want to cook and eat healthy food.  The nutty, flavorful sprouts in the above photo are a recent find - awesome in salads, sandwiches, as a snack out of the bag, or even in an omelet.  It's still my dream to retire within walking distance of that market, but alas, I think the firehall in Elizabethtown is as close as I'll get to living with David in a "city" - he's a mountain kind of guy.  

Food preparation, even on a late Sunday morning, always includes a glass of wine.  This glass came from my father-in-law's cabin on the Susquehanna.  I think some of the many reasons I love to cook so much are the process, the memories, and the aesthetic feast.  My favorite yellow bowl from a street fair in Manayunk with my sister-in-law when the kids were still in strollers, my collection of Le Creuset pots in cobalt blue that accumulated over Christmases and birthdays, wooden salad forks brought back from Seattle from my friend Maggie, and what was left of a set of French Longchamp dinnerware I happily took possession of from another friend, Lisa, who was upgrading.  These things make me happy!

Stir the chopped vegetables into the oil and vinegar, and add the quinoa.  It can be served warm this way as an accompaniment to any meats, or with a large salad.  We had a large green salad for Easter dinner, alongside the usual mashed potatoes, green beans, and pickled beets, which is how I ended up throwing them all together in the first place.    

Add to the salad greens (I prefer a mix a heartier green like romaine or bib lettuce, with some spring mix, and a handful of micro greens - pea shoots lately), sliced leftover ham and fresh strawberries, and a handful of sprouts.   Really anything will do, however I tend to want to throw in everything but the kitchen sink - some restraint is called for, if you really want to enjoy the individual flavors and textures.  

The last half of a whole wheat pita, stuffed with salad and quinoa.  

Did I mention this creation was just for me?  I did tell you about the empty house, and a lazy Sunday morning… I'm a firm believer in linen napkins, candles, and reading at the table.  Moosewood cookbooks by Mollie Katzen are some of my favorite reading material.  And Sunday morning's Sleepy Hollow on XPN provides the best background music for my solo culinary journey.

Afterward, there is just enough to fill two pyrex bowls for lunch tomorrow - one for me and one to share.  Put the salad on the bottom, and the quinoa on the top.  Dump it on a plate with a splash of dressing, and it's good to go.  

And I'm one of those crazy people who relish hand dishwashing.  Just another part of the process of making food.  Whether it's for myself alone, or a crowd of twenty, there is nothing like putzing in the kitchen to inspire and put my soul at rest.  And outside a gorgeous day beckons.  Think I'll take a long walk.  Cheers!

in search of Edwin….

It all started with a portrait I inherited when I purchased two large, gold gilt frames for a project at the gallery.  Edwin came inside one of them, and the owner wasn't interested in keeping the portrait of the early 19th century gentleman, as she had no idea who he was.  The other frame in the pair had a portrait of her grandmother, which of course she kept.

The intended project for the frames never developed, and they sat in the basement for the last ten years collecting dust.  Meanwhile, Edwin hid out in the frameshop storage bin, occasionally unearthed by a curious employee wondering who he was.  I hung him on the wall from time to time, as I liked his calm demeanor and handsome attendance.  More recently, my friend Maggie suggested he really did deserve a name… "Edward, maybe," I said, to which she replied, "no, he's definitely an Edwin."  As Edwin was the name of a dear cousin I lost to AIDS in the 80's, I had to concur.  Edwin it was.

I carried him to my office, and tucked him behind the file cabinet, peaking out just enough to seek his inspiration from my desk.  He was my muse, I decided.  He looked successful, confident, sure of himself, but gentle and kind.  He remained there until Diane Bitting, Lancaster Newspapers, spied him and suggested we collaborate to see if we could discover the story behind the painting and his true identity.

A bit of a spit wash in the lower right hand corner revealed a signature and a date, but the painting was so dirty, we couldn't read it.  I called Jeff Johnson, art restorer, and Claire Giblin, art appraiser, who have done quite a bit of work for us in the past, and they agreed to meet with us at the gallery.  

With the chemicals and tools of an experienced conservator, and test cleaning a few spots to ascertain the stability of the paint, Jeff cleaned the area of the signature.  "Looks like a "B", or a "D" at the beginning, last name, Tyler, maybe?  And the date?  It's either 1916, or 1918, I think…"

A google search later, I find an ad in The Art Interchange for "B. H. Tyler, Portrait Artist" and excitedly pass this on to Jeff and Claire.  Late that evening, I get an email from Jeff, telling me his name is "Bayard Henry Tyler."

Claire confirmed this, and sent us more information from auction records and  museum exhibition documentation.  B.H. Tyler, 1855-1931 was not only a portrait artist, but an accomplished landscape artist in the Hudson River School region.  Later she finds his portraiture in an Artist Members exhibition in 1927 at the Lotos Club, New York, New York, and a commissioned work in the collection of Scranton Public Library (Albright Memorial) of Joseph J. Albright, painted in 1902.

Earlier this week, I received this image from Jeff of the cleaning and restoration in process at his studio.  Look closely at the upper right corner, coming through the middle of his face, and you can visibly see the difference a cleaning makes!  Now, if we could only figure out who Edwin really is….

the chair saga continued….

The sofa arrived and joined the funky set of chairs in the gallery, extending a new warmth and style to the room.  Makes for the perfect spot to take in the music, read a book, or catch up on some conversation with a friend. 

Every detail was tended to by Ricardo, my meticulous upholsterer, from the fabric to the buttons.  Even under the cushions you'll find fabric covered buttons lining the linen seating platform.

So remember the sad state of affairs regarding this caned set - a chair, rocker, and sofa?  Well I took the leap and purchased the set, with plans to strip and recane them, then refinish the wood.  Meanwhile, I went on the hunt for fabrics, narrowing the field to some colorful tapestries, textured velvets, fringe and braid in shades of magenta, ochre, and kiwi.

That task complete, I sat down with my dear friend MarCelia, my sketches and swatches in hand, to discuss the best way to bring my mid-century, Parisian vision together for these pieces.  She lent her expertise and knowledge regarding the construction of quality seating, and together we articulated a plan.

We both agreed the cushions would have to be of spring and down construction - not simply foam.  Despite the increased cost, the difference would be noticeable, and the cushions sturdy and comfy.  With a woven web of canvas to support them, the seating would envelope you like a setting in a Proust novel.

Between the two of us and Ricardo, we scoured the internet for reasonably priced spring forms and bags of down.  

Stacks of spring forms await, knitted together in groups.  Three will fit side by side for the sofa's bench cushion, with one each for the chair and the rocker.  They'll be surrounded by 1" foam, then wrapped top and bottom with a pillow of down, so they can be flipped to either side.

A trip back to the refinishers, and I find the wood stripped and sanded down, exposing mahogany wood and detailing that was barely noticeable before.  I spent some time with Gary experimenting with finishes and settled on a black mahogany, hand-rubbed stain.





















The stain takes deeply to the back side of the caning, but leaves the inside with a bit of radiant gold showing through.  Perfect, I thought, with the fabric selections I had decided upon.  A satin-finish clear coat will finish the three pieces, and they'll be ready for the upholster.  

I picked up the fabric detailing samples from Ricardo, eager to see how the detailing would look on the cushions, and how they would go with the stained wood.  The Parisian carpet bag, shabby chic look I was after was evident, and with a few minor changes, gave my approval to go ahead.

"the down and feather envelope is a messy process :)" said Ricardo in a text this afternoon, "I look like a big turkey."   This I'd like to see!

The completed sofa, mid-century Parisian, carpet-bagger style

Tafetta rucking across the band adds texture, color, and a bit of a surprise

Coordinating sofa and chair

Rocker is trimmed gold fringe, with a band of checkered velveteen

The chair in striped velveteen with a pleated band in a contrasting stripe

chairs, chairs, and more chairs….

It all started with this sofa...

A client of mine decided it was time to part with this much loved family piece, and never one to let a good, solid, vintage seating accommodation slip by, I volunteered to pick it up and take it home.  My grandmother Stella honed my appreciation of well-constructed, older pieces, scouring yard sales and haunting local auctions for her favorite goose neck rockers.  My first apartment won the fruits of her labor that summer - a heavy, overstuffed, horsehair sofa covered in wine velveteen, and a rose brocade chair of the same vintage.  The sofa is long gone, as we had to cut the legs off it to get it out of that apartment when we moved (how did we get it in??), but the chair sits recovered in my office.  Anyway, I digress...

The sofa sent me in search of some funky, comfortable chairs to pair with it, the plan being to have the pieces recovered to begin replacing the furniture we've had in the gallery since we opened.  Those chairs came from Dr. White's old office waiting room when he moved, and they've served me well.  But time for a change.  One word to my favorite upholsterer, Ricardo, and he had several pairs of chairs for me to choose from.  This pair seemed funky and fun, and I could envision them, and eclectic balance to my  sofa.

Next the search for fabric… and again thanks to Ricardo, I found there were several good outlets and discount fabric sources closer than my usual visit to the Philadelphia Design Center (and far less expensive too!)  The trick is to go without too many predeterminations about what you are looking for, and wait for something to strike my fancy, catch my eye, or otherwise, get my attention.  Then, start looking for natural counterparts to finish out the selections.

Mocha brown and haystack gold?  Not exactly what I had in mind, but with the purply hue, the mix of pattern, proportion, and texture, I fell for this combo.  The fabric on the left is for the sofa, the pattern on the right for the front of the chairs, and the chenille brown solid for the back of the chairs and the buttons.  So what would really take those chairs up a notch, but to detail the piping in a taupe leather and add some brass tacks along the chair arms to accent the curves.

Just right!

Here is a photo of my chairs in progress, re-stuffed, with the seats rebuilt, and the piping underway.  

Brass tacks begun… I'm loving this!

Meanwhile, I'm still on my mission for more potential seating I can rehab for the gallery.  Since much of my design work, is about repurposing, putting redone pieces in the gallery seems fitting.  Now I've found a meticulous furniture refinisher too, and he just happened to have this trailer in the back of this shop full of old wooden and upholstered pieces he's collected over the years.  The chairs just kept coming, and then….

I totally fell in love with this pair - a caned lounge and a rocker - this would be my next project.  All I needed now was a sofa.  "What?"  I said, "you have a sofa to match?"  

Wow!  Can't wait to go fabric shopping again.  I have these vintage Parisian visions of Madeleine Castaing and her warehouse full of old chairs - she wasn't afraid of vibrant color, mixing patterns and details, and her rooms came alive.  The best part?  I get to be my own guinea pig, push the envelope, and try some new things.

First delivery - a pair of re-imagined chairs!

First delivery - a pair of re-imagined, re-built chairs!  Looking forward to sofa delivery in a week or two….

not your ordinary figure show...

The bi-annual Chocolate, Champagne and Jazz Figure Show features 1930's style gypsy jazz by Rue de la Pompe, and the exhibition includes a company of accomplished artists, some familiar and some new to Lynden Gallery patrons: Eva Bender, Jeff Bye, Robert Patierno, Janette Toth, Mike Tymon, and Fran Williams. Central to the exhibition is the work of Clarity Haynes, of Brooklyn, New York.  

I first met Clarity Haynes at her thesis show in 2003 at the esteemed Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Art in Philadelphia.  It stopped me in my tracks with it's honest reality, rendered with such tenderness and joy.  Yes, joy!

I grew up like most young women, being told to stand up straight, tuck my tummy in, and contort my body into Barbie-like form with underwire bras and control-top panty hose.  Mom, after all, was just beginning to emerge from an era of pointed bras, corsets and girdles herself.  Any kind of reassurances to her first born - a daughter - were overwhelmed by my perception that what really mattered was what other people thought about my appearance. 

Only as an adult did I become aware of beauty in different shapes and forms, and begin to embrace my own changing form as more than merely an acceptable means for getting me around in this world.  It housed my spirit, sheltered my soul, brought life into this world, provided nurture for others, and will ultimately be shed as I spread my wings into the next life.  Why shouldn't I cherish the scars, wrinkles, and fading that come with age?  I've earned it!  

Clarity's work has intrigued me for over a decade, and I was thrilled when she agreed to show her work for our mid-winter figure show.  Though I'm sensitive to the fact that her figures may be startling to some, it is my hope the viewer will walk away with the same sense of having witnessed something important.  Perhaps the juxtaposition of what may at first glance be considered with revulsion, will give way to the spirit of its rendering.

As an "exercise in draughtsmanship" life drawing has been an important element in honing ones drawing and painting skills since the early Greeks.  "Fundamental to success is training the eye to look analytically, as opposed to seeing something is there without really taking it in."   The value lies in learning to see, both for the artist and the viewer.  Art provides a canvas for conversation and begs people to think beyond their assumptions.

"not your ordinary figure show: body image" opens Friday, February 15th with an artists reception from 6:00 to 9:00 p.m.  A $5.00 cover is requested at the door in support of the band.  For more about the artists and this exhibition, visit our website www.lyndengallery.com.  The exhibition will continue through April 6th. 

A Tribute to Grandma Great

Pauline Winstead Garrison Brincefield 1917-2012

I believe it was the spring of 1981 when I was first introduced to the Bedenbaugh Brincefield Garrison clan, and I don’t recall the occasion.  But at the Colonial Beach Fire Hall was a family gathering of some sort, and I found myself surrounded by a tribe of laughing, friendly, exuberant, extended family - somewhat overwhelming to a newly 20, young woman from a quiet, restrained, Anabaptist background in Lancaster County.  And I’d never seen so many Mama Bears all in one place!

My first impression of that gathering was that the group was largely women – strong women, single women, confident women – at the time the only balance to all the estrogen was that of Uncle Kenny and Bobby, who quietly, and contentedly, took supporting roles in the affair’s choreography.  In the middle of this glorious jangle of people, sat Grandma Great, and if Grandaddy was present, and I can’t recall if he was, he would have happily taken a side seat to the matriarch of the family.

I remember her smile – warm and friendly – and the sweet, gentle southern drawl, bred with an undeniable elegance and perceivable wit.  Everyone was bustling about the hall, preparing a long table with food and drink, setting up chairs, and amiably catching up.  I found myself the center of attention, not because I was a compelling personality in my own right, but rather because I was there on the arm of Carl, whom they all simply adored.  As such, I was given the keys to their hearts without hesitation. 

Over a period of 20+ years, holidays and summers included an assortment of such gatherings, evolving over time to include numerous partners, spouses, friends, and children.  As the family grew, the tables extended along with an inclusive generosity toward each new family member or significant other that came along.

With the passing of Grandma Great, my days have been flooded with distant memories, played back in my mind as if they were yesterday… Polly sitting in the neat and tidy, traditional living room of her home in Richmond, rubbing her feet on the dog at her feet, and coaxing Jenna and Joe to her lap, laughing and playing, with not thought to the inevitable muss and chaos left in our wake; her serious demeanor as she sat at a bingo table, markers and a string of cards lined up neatly in front of her, assuming a win; sitting in her pleasant kitchen with smells of pies backing, or ham coming from the oven, while we talked about our shared love of canning, cooking and baking… 

One particular holiday, we were discussing our favorite cookbooks, and I noted mine was an old yellow covered cookbook of my mother’s, that I’d learned to cook from at home - the Westinghouse Cookbook.  I liked it because it had all the basics – how to make chili, roast a turkey or a ham, boil rice or make mashed potatoes, Harvard beets, piecrust, and numerous yummy cakes and cookies.  She pointed out the same cookbook on her on shelf, and whether her perception of my envy of her copy, or a simple desire to do something special for me compelled her, I found it wrapped under the Christmas tree that year with my name on it, and inscribed, “To Lisa, From Grandma Brincefield, Christmas 1990.”

  

I cherish that cookbook.  For the memories it still stirs after many long years of use, it’s worn cover falling off, notes in the margins of recipes that have developed over years of diabetic cooking experiments, and favorite pages paper-clipped for easy finding.  It contains the origins of my gingersnap, meatloaf, pickled beets, and banana chocolate chip muffin recipes, all of which have changed and evolved, and a good many that failed along the way, but ultimately emerged in the learning as keepers.

Like this much beloved cookbook, family has continued to change over the years, under the watchful eye of the many Mother Bears, in the spirit and grace of what we call “family.”  The women who succeed them, Jenna, Meghan, Jessica, Eva, Katie, Corey, Layne, Summer, Kayla…embrace life with a heritage and character of grace, laugher, forgiveness, and dignity inherent to their clan.  The life they lead, and the character they uphold, is a testament to the beauty that was, Pauline.