Returning?

Chers Amis,

I don't know if anyone checks this blog anymore, but I am seriously thinking about returning to Blogger as the budget shrinks and Blogger improves. I am tinkering with the CSS for this site so it will be a bit messy for a while and I am practicing posting with Word. Bear with me J Thanks.

--Marjorie

I can only Imagine - Catholic Version

This is a beautiful video on Adoration and the Real Presence. Watch it and share it!

Come visit - I'm moving - to Type Pad

Chers Amis,

I'm tentatively moving le moulin to Typepad at Lettres de Mon Moulin. I hate to move, but I like some of the features so I am trying it out. We went for a lovely nature walk yesterday in search of signs of the season. Come visit and tell me what you think.

-- Marjorie

Fun with Thank You's

Chers Amis,
I am sure that many of my family and friends giggled, or at least puzzled, over my choice of blog name as I am a terrible letter writer. I have boxes of letters, written, but never sent.
Maybe it is the long walk to the mailbox (1 min.), the high cost of postage, or fear of the postman? I actually - stop the presses - sent some (not many) Christmas Cards and a Christmas letter this year. The next logical step - thank you notes.

I try to have the kids write thank you notes every year, but sometimes they disappear, get lost in my desk, or are not finished. This year we have tried something new that is easy if you have a scanner or color printer.
Each child designed their own card images that I scanned in the computer. In Word, I inserted the pictures and enlarged or shrunk them to fit on a piece of landscape card stock as a basic template. The kids then either typed or narrated their letter as a text box. Using the text box we could move the msg around easily. They enjoyed drawing their own cover art and choosing different fonts and colors for each card. We still have to put them in envelopes, stamp them and actually get them in the mailbox. That will be the hard part! Wish me luck.

--Marjorie

Rainy Day baking for the New Year

(written on New Years Eve)

Chers Amis,

It is a rainy day in Georgia. The trunks of the trees are black, accented by a bright lichen green that seems to glow in the gloom. The forest floor is rusty with pine straw and forgotten leaves. It ha been pouring all day and the back of our property is puddling into several small lakes. The run off fills a tiny stream bed that winds down to the creek. It is a warm 58 degrees so what are two outdoor girls to do but change their church clothes, run outside to splash in the mud, and "work" to clear the stream of fallen leaves so the water can hurry on its way. I wish they looked this happy when I asked them to clean their bedroom! Soaking wet and chilled to the bone they returned to the house where a dip in Dad's hot tub awaited them. (He is the best! He even put beach towels and their bathrobe in the dryer for apres le tub!)

I love a grey day! It is the perfect time to make a pot of soup and preheat the oven for a little baking. In the south on New Years that means just one thing - black eyed peas for good luck! I just put my dried peas in to soak overnight and dug out my recipe for Hoppin' John with kielbasa. There are many explanations of the name, one that it is a derivation of a French Creole term for black-eyed peas: pois pigeons (pronounced: "pwah pee-JON"). Whatever the etymology, they are a southern tradition and a delicious one at that!

While the girls - and Pippin - were in the hot tub, I pulled out my stained recipe card for a special belated birthday cake for Jesus - a chocolate Buche de Noel - a cake roll. My mil gave me a copy of the recipe and I make it twice a year - once for my husband's birthday, and again for Christmas, or in this case New Years. I am not a baker, but over the years I have learned to make this cake quite well, much to my husband's delight. It is not difficult and the presentation is gorgeous with a simple coulis de frambois (raspberries). Logs are supposed to look rustique, right? Pas de probleme. Mine of course will not look nearly as nice and I forgot to buy marzipan for the mushrooms, but my dh will LOVE it. Here is the recipe - I don't think it is a secret because it came from an old book. The frosting and assembly instructions come from here.

Chocolate Roll (Buche de Noel - Yule log cake)
Preheat oven to 325 F

In a large bowl:
Beat until stiff (hold a point) ---- 6 egg whites and 1/2 tsp. cream of tarter
Beat in gradually (until glossy) -- 1/2 cup sugar
In a separate bowl:
Beat until thick and lemon-colored ----6 egg yokes
Beat in ---1/2 cup sugar
Sift together and beat into yolk mixture --4 Tbsp. cocoa, 4 Tbsp. sifted flour, 1/4 tsp. salt
Stir in -- 1 tsp. vanilla

Carefully fold chocolate/yolk into egg white mixture. (Note - add @ 1/4 of the white to the chocolate and fold first. This will lighten the chocolate mix)
Spread 1/2 thick in shallow 15 1/2 x 100 1/2 pan lined with well greased paper. Bake until surface springs back when touched lightly with finger (20-25 min.)
Immediately turn upside down onto towel sprinkled with confectioner's sugar.
Immediately remove paper from cake, and roll up beginning at side. Note: If a thick, shorter cake is desired (more circles of cake), begin to roll at short end.

After the cake has cooled you can fill it with whipping cream.
Whip 1 cup of cold whipping cream until stiff. Beat in 1/4 cup sifted powdered sugar.
(Note: I like to add a small amount of liqueur for flavor preferably Chambord)
Unroll cooled cake and frost heavily with whipping cream. Re roll carefully and place seam down. Refrigerate until ready to frost.

Frosting
3/4 cup whipping cream
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
5 ounces bittersweet (not unsweetened) or semisweet chocolate, chopped
4 ounces milk chocolate, chopped For frosting: Bring cream and butter to boil in medium saucepan over medium-high heat, stirring to melt butter. Remove from heat. Add both chocolates; whisk until melted. Transfer to medium bowl. Let cool at room temperature until thick enough to spread, about 1 hour.

Assembly: "Starting 1 inch in from each end of cake, cut on diagonal to remove one 3-inch-long piece of cake from each end. Attach 1 cake piece at sides of cake near each end. Spread frosting over top and sides of cake and pieces. Using tines of fork, draw concentric circles on cake ends to resemble tree rings. Draw fork along length of cake to form bark design. Garnish with Marzipan Mushrooms."

I like to make a simple raspberry sauce - simmer frozen raspberries w/a little sugar to taste and a little water so they don't stick. When they have fallen apart, pour through fine sieve, pressing on solids to extract juice - not too hard or the seeds will pop through!

It is a fun dessert. You can make it anytime, just omit the bark design and "branch".

I hope you all have a wonderful New Years Celebration!
-- Marjorie

PS - We must have a beaver at the mill because I found "bark and wood" missing from the cake before dinner! Pippin did have a guilty chocolate smile.

Loveliness of Motherhood

The Loveliness of Motherhood - "So often the acts of virtue practiced by a mother are only seen by a few: her children. Here in this carnival we might see how hidden acts of virtue can bear public fruit many years down the road.. . . jot down any fond memories, insightful words, good practices that you remember from your childhood."
Helen at Castle of the Immaculate

Chers Amis,

Little pitchers have big ears - and eyes. They learn more from watching our example than listening to our words. Watching and listening to my mother in the last 39 years has taught me more than she probably realizes about the loveliness of motherhood, the power of quiet virtue, the importance of beauty, and the reality of unconditional love. I have learned that Mothers are not perfect. Mothers are people too. Mothers are amazing.

My mother is an artist, a creator. Some artists, and mothers, shoo children out of the kitchen or studio or office and tell them to let her listen to her muse or work in peace. Mom invites them in to play. She shares her art and love of beauty and is happiest surrounded by children poking their fingers in her paints, squeezing her clay, experimenting with her scissors. When we were very little, my mother was a weaver. Instead of a table, our dining room was encompassed by an enormous loom and next to the kitchen table was an antique spinning wheel. We could touch anything we wanted. She would buy raw wool that we would wash and card and dye it using onion skins and walnut shells. One day she bought a piece of green soapstone and taught herself to sculpt. We would go hiking along mountain streams in Colorado looking for marble and poke through the quarry in search of the right alabaster or pumice for her new work. Art is a team sport for her. Today she teaches art in San Antonio, mostly to homeschoolers and is the happiest I have seen her in decades. She sees every tube of paint, every new technique, every artist as something to share with her students and every child as a precious gift. Her mission - to encourage them to discover their own creativity and find joy in art. She is one of the Great Masters.

Our house was never Better Homes and Garden clean, but it was full of the arts, music and the simple beauty of nature. Thank goodness. Sometimes there was stone dust on the counters, our cups and glasses held Kool-aid, paintbrushes and rasps, clay cured in the oven, canvases lounged next to couch - and that wasn't the studio. When I was in elementary school, we lived in an artsy Colorado town and Mom, who had never studied music, joined a baroque recorder group. They would meet and practice in our living room, filling our home with the most beautiful music. Instead of hiding her expensive instruments away she put them where my sisters and I could play with them and make music. She and my father would take us to the Denver Art museum and Museum of Natural History. Later, when we lived out in the scrubby flatwoods of south Florida where museums were few and far between, she made our garage her studio and nature her gallery. She was working full time to support three girls but she still sculpted and painted constantly - even at the beach!

Mom taught me the most about love and service to others. I remember her telling me that a child is the only person in your life that you know you'll love even before meeting them. So true. Even when things were at their darkest - and life does get pretty dark sometimes - she was loving. I knew that my mother loved me unconditionally. Oh, she didn't like my sauciness or "evil" looks, or that it never occurred to me to pick up the piles of detritus I left behind, but she LOVED me, Marjorie. She could find something to compliment in whatever I did, found good and promise even when I was in teenage despair. Moms are the best back scratchers and head rubbers. When my stepfather became paralyzed and eventually bedridden, she displayed great courage and love in caring for him for more than 10 years. She also cared for my cantankerous grandfather for many months at the end of his life. Was she never frustrated, angry, sharp? No, but she gave endlessly of herself and sought ways to brighten their worlds and persevered in difficulty.

Mom is a zephyr that never sits still, never becomes static or stagnant and is always trying something new. She gave us great freedom to express ourselves within clear limits and to learn by doing. Her mother had been a great artist too, but a perfectionist with an iron hand. Perfection for Mom was superfluous and hampered creativity and learning. She taught me that mothers are not maids and were not created to put away your laundry and that mothers didn't have children just to give themselves something to do during the day. I learned macaroni and cheese without the macaroni, jello fruit salad without the fruit, and charred open-face tuna and cheese sandwiches are delicious. Wearing polka-dots with stripes doesn't hurt anyone and helps you learn to dress properly - eventually. I learned that after a certain age kids need to get themselves up and ready for school because you don't have a nanny in real life. I roomed with a girl my freshman year in college whose mother - or maid - did everything for her and she was totally unprepared for life. She couldn't do a load of laundry, boil water or make her bed. Only regular infusions of cash saved her. She needed my mother. So do I.

No one loves you the way your mother does. No one can push your buttons like your mother can. Only your mother can guilt you into returning to Florida from France because you're hiding from your own indecision. Moms do know best more often than not. Proof - I now have a wonderful husband, vibrant faith and three children of my own. (OK, no house in France, that is the only drawback :-) but there is always the lottery. . .)

As I wrote this and pondered on what I loved best about childhood and what lessons I am using or not using, I realized that I need to put more of my mother's wisdom into practice. She is a wise if whimsical spirit. See, you never stop learning from your Mom.

If you are reading this, Mom. I love you. Thanks for everything.

-- Marjorie

I Would rather . . .

Chers Amis,

I would rather be playing than working today. I would rather adding new features like sticky notes and To Do lists to my Google home page than complete tasks from my rapidly growing existing lists. I would rather try out my new desk chair dh got me for Christmas than vacuum 10 pounds of dog fluff from my basement. I would rather get a creamy cup of coffee and lazily browse the happenings at my favorite blogs or surf for fun things to do for next year than straighten this house - again. I would rather try out Typepad or fix the colors here (ick!) than go to Kroger for milk - what ever happened to the milk man anyway? I would rather finish my post on the Loveliness of Motherhood than live it right now. (Dare I say this?) But no one grows in holiness by ignoring life, the not- so-little messes it creates, or the mess creators. So it must be time to pull out a CD, crank up the radio and get to work. My holiness - and house depend on it. Darn. Sometimes you need a self-pep talk, you know.

-- Marjorie