sweet butter and waterworks

Dear Rae,

After reading your letter, I got up from my desk and went over to the two double-shelf bookcases that are under the large window next to my bed. I reached for The Element of Lavishness, sat down on the bed and began thumbing through its pages looking for something nourishing.

Suddenly, as I am walking along the street, a phrase from your letters rises to the surface and a sort of transubstantiation occurs. I mean I feel like sweet butter. (Maxwell to Warner, May 9, 1961. Page 104.)

Sweet butter. Sweet butter and waterworks… Our dear Maxwell is such a loveable person.

I wouldn’t worry too much about all those ideas that never make it out of your head. Good thoughts (or good characters, if we’re speaking of imaginative thoughts) come with time. At least, that’s what I tell myself and it works to keep me focused on fleshing out one idea at a time.

Amritvēla is considered the “ambrosial hour,” or the time before sunrise; it’s a favored time for prayer and meditation. As a child, which means long before I began the journey of Sikhi, I was an early riser. These days I try to steer away from as many unecessary labels, shoulds/oughts, and enslaving expectations as I can. As the cliché goes, life is short. Some people may be wired to function at their best in the morning and other peoples’ sails may catch wind at midday or later; neither time is quote “better.” Whatever’s good for you—1am and up at 10am—is best. I salute you, my friend.

I know you can give me many reasons why it’s good that you are no longer in Tallahassee, but since you mention hating going out in the rain, I thought you should know that Tallahassee has been listed as the 9th rainiest city in America. I question this ranking, especially after stepping into my garage this morning and inhaling the bitter smoke that has drifted into the city from nearby forest fires and those in South Georgia. I mean we’re in the midst of an awful drought and we’re a rainy city. I’m currently having to go against one of my deepest ecological and conservation convictions and (use one of earth’s precious resources) water the St. Augustine grass in the yard before it dies and the homeowner association’s Yard Nazi comes after me (more about this guy some other day). But we’re the 9th rainiest city in America.

Le Spouse’s comment and your picture have me eager to try your fennel and blue cheese with penne.

Yours affectionately,
Toni

P.S. Here’s the picture of Angel walking on a leash that you requested.

22.5.07

Dear Toni,

I’m so glad you recommended this book of letters, The Element of Lavishness, between Sylvia Townsend Warner and our beloved Maxwell. They are a delight! Not only do their cats come up quite a lot, but their talk of their writings is inspiring. I have all these ideas in my head that never make it out. Perhaps, like you, I should try to rise early. It’s a component of Sikhism, yes? And good sense, too, though I’m not sure I’m capable. To bed around 1am and up at 10am has been my routine for as long as I can remember.

It’s raining today. I thought I would be going to the store to get the ingredients for tonight’s risotto, but I absolutely hate going out (especially walking) in the rain. Le Spouse will likely have to swing by the store on his way home from work. Which means we’ll be eating late, since good risotto takes time.

Last night’s dinner was lovely: fennel and blue cheese with penne (recipe in an adjacent post). Not something I’d serve to guests, but my tastebuds had fun! Le Spouse commented that it wasn’t as acidic as the ready-made tomato sauces, and the blue cheese added a nice punch to each bite. In fact, the blue cheese was the crucial ingredient. I enjoyed the leftovers at lunch today.

Right now I’m sipping a lovely Oolong tea that my friend (and tea dealer) Steve brought back from China. It helps me forget the rain.

As always,

rae

penne with fennel, tomato, and blue cheese

1 fennel bulb

225g/8oz/2cups penne pasta

30ml/2tsp olive oil

1 shallot, finely chopped

300ml/1 1/2pints/1 1/4cups passata

pinch of sugar

5ml/1tsp fresh oregano, chopped

115g/4oz blue cheese

(Supposedly serves 2, but we got three plates out of it and could have easily gotten four.)

1. Cut the fennel bulb in half. Cut away the hard core and root. Cut the fennel into thin strips.

2. Cook the pasta.

3. Heat the olive oil in a small saucepan. Add the fennel and shallot and cook for 2-3 minutes over high heat. Do no allow browning.

4. Add the passata or an equivalent amount of canned, crushed tomatoes (which is what I did), sugar, and oregano. Cover the pan and allow to simmer for 10-12 minutes. Toss the pasta and sauce together and top with crumbled blue cheese.