use real butter

Usually when I get home to find the light on the answering machine blinking, I’m filled with dread. Who called? What new phone spam is this? But on occasion, after hitting the PLAY MESSAGES button, I’ll hear:

Hey! You dodo! This is your Baba!

Because terms of endearment shouted are always louder and happier. I also love how Dad identifies himself on the answering machine. He will then proceed to leave a hilarious message in which the Dad side wants to be conversational and yet the Professional side wants to be succinct and to the point. A single voicemail illustrates that internal struggle, but the entertainment value is through the roof.

I will get to see my parents in less than a week and I can already play out what Dad will be like. First, he’ll look at me and half-grin half-laugh as he reaches out to give me a hug. He’s going to suggest we get together and cook a nice meal with a GOOD bottle (or two) of wine. Dad will enthusiastically inquire about Crested Butte and the fishing there. He will ask where Kaweah is and when he can see her. Then he’ll start discussing the plan for lunch.

Dad and I are very different people, and yet we share many personality traits and mannerisms. The obvious ones I’ve known about for decades, but Jeremy will observe similarities that can make me cringe, beam, or both.

me and dad (1994)

You know that old saying that you become your parents? I don’t mind that so much anymore. As I get older, I think I understand where they are coming from a little better. At the same time, I wonder if they ponder the things that are looming larger in my mind as I age – things like mortality, life decisions, loved ones, responsibilities, relationships. Of course they do.

Ever since I was little, I have memories of my Dad giving me a sideways squeeze-hug and shouting (always with the shouting), “You dodo, do you know that Baba loves you?!” And I would answer, “yeeeeeeees” while rolling my eyes and waving him off so I could concentrate on my Saturday morning cartoons. Now when I’m with my parents, I sometimes find myself watching Dad while he’s taking off his trifocals to read a wine label 5 millimeters from his nose and wanting to run up and hug him and yell, “Do you know that I love you?!” I guess it goes both ways.

Dad and I (and when she was alive, Kris) have had a running joke – that we kids are the acorn, and he is the tree. Whenever I do something clever or stupid that my Dad would have also done, he points to me with a big grin on his face and says, “Acorn.”

And I kinda love that.

happy father’s day, daddy – i hope you catch lots of big fish

Recipe: rose water lemonade

When it’s hot in the mountains, I tend to get a little nervous. Hot, dry, and windy conditions are what we fear most in the southwestern US. We’ve been keeping an eye on the wildfires along Colorado’s Front Range, but wherever we are the red flag warnings for high fire danger are going up. To avoid the heat, Jeremy and I have been getting out in the mornings and evenings for runs, rides, and hikes around Crested Butte and holing up in the office during midday where it remains comfortably cool (no air conditioning, it’s just an incredibly well-designed house). Every trail or path or dirt road is lined with wildflowers. They are coming along nicely pretty much everywhere.

northern fairy candelabra – i absolutely love these tiny little flowers

prairie smoke

sunset over mount crested butte

lupine on an evening hike

my favorites are the deep purple lupine

western wallflower

As some of you know, I am obsessed with keeping cool in summer (or any time) because I really dislike the heat. That’s why I like the mountains – because it’s cooler. But even the mountains can get those handful of days when the heat feels unbearable. Typically, I’ll cool down by drinking plenty of ice water, but occasionally I love me a fruity and refreshing drink. Last October, Ellen hosted a girls’ weekend down in Colorado Springs and took us to Uchenna for wonderful Ethiopian fare. I sampled the rose water lemonade and it had a remarkable cooling effect on me. My mind has wandered back to that lovely meal several times since, but I’ve been craving the rose water lemonade with the hotter weather.

rose water and lemons

to make rose water lemonade: sugar, rose water, lemons, pinch of salt

My rose water was in the spice section of my local Whole Foods store. If you can’t source rose water where you are, I’m sure you can order it online. I like to start with a simple syrup because it dissolves all of the sugar and mixes the sweetness more evenly in the lemonade. Do this step ahead of time enough so that it can cool to room temperature (or at least lukewarm) when you mix it with the lemon juice. Also, I juiced four large lemons to get a 1 cup yield of juice. That’s just a guideline, it will vary with lemon size, juiciness, and the efficiency of your juicer.

combine sugar and water to make the simple syrup

fresh-squozen lemon juice

**Jump for more butter**

Recipe: green onion buttermilk pancakes

Jeremy and I are back in Crested Butte getting our offices up and running, squaring away various details, and meeting many of our wonderful neighbors (including their pups like Ryder, Meatball, Lilly…). We have settled into the new digs enough to finally get out and do a little exploring this past weekend – both around town and on the trails.

gâteau fab, who tells me she gets lots of inspiration from foodgawker

a busking biologist at the farmers market

cb farmers market opening day

which baked goodies to choose?!

Living in two mountain towns allows us to draw the inevitable comparisons. So many similarities and yet so many differences. Whenever we tell locals that we live in Nederland, they always ask about the Frozen Dead Guy (aka “Grandpa”). Thankfully, Crested Butte doesn’t boast a frozen dead guy (we really don’t need two of them), but she makes up for it in titles like Wildflower Capital of Colorado and the Birthplace of Mountain Biking. Because we’re both such wimps about the heat, we’ve been riding or hiking in the mornings and evenings. The peak bloom should be in another month, but we’ve already witnessed several early bloomers and their green precursors blanketing whole mountainsides. Just the other evening I told Jeremy that I felt like I was witnessing the party planning stages of a giant celebration. Crested Butte is magical at every turn.

false hellebore or corn lily

meadows of green and yellow

crimson columbines (the first i’ve spotted this season)

sundown on lush hillslopes

the lupine are getting ready

And speaking of magical, you need to get in on this wondrous savory pancake. I grew up eating scallion pancakes of the Chinese persuasion, but these scallion pancakes are of the western variety. They are buttermilk pancakes with green onions. The first time I had them was at The Pinyon (which is now closed) – two green onion pancakes tucked under fried chicken with a side of syrup. Now that I can’t get them at The Pinyon, I have to make my own. Challenge accepted!

buttermilk, milk, eggs, butter, baking soda, baking powder, salt, green onions, flour

mix the dry ingredients together

slice the green onions

whisk the wet ingredients together (except the butter)

**Jump for more butter**