use real butter

Recipe: pickled chinese cabbage

My good friends know that I have a rule about worrying – I try not to fret about things I have no control over. This comes in handy because I get several medical scans and tests and I generally do not waste an ounce of energy on worrying myself before I get the results. Life comes with her own stresses as it is, there is no reason for me to be heaping more on. The further I move away from my cancer treatments, the more they become a faded memory. With the exception of a few permanent issues that I’ll carry for the rest of my life, I am doing very well and I feel good! I feel normal.

kaweah loves her summer walks

I get one mammogram and one MRI every year to scan for new or recurring cancer. I don’t expect anything from the mammogram because it never detected my original cancer whereas the MRI did. So I had an MRI a few weeks ago… and I never heard from radiology about the results. I have been so busy I had essentially forgotten about it. It was on the drive to my oncology appointment that Jeremy admitted to me he was concerned about my MRI, because we hadn’t heard anything. At first I felt horrible that my dear man – the fellow who was my only caregiver during my entire ordeal – was quietly worrying himself sick over me. Then the thoughts crept into that dark part of my brain. Perhaps radiology only calls you with results when everything is fine, but wants to give you the bad news in person? Well no – my surgeon gave me the bad news over the phone. What gives? And so went my internal conversation.

heart-leaf arnica dot the forest understory

It’s hard to describe what I felt. I powered through chemo as best I could, but I found myself dreading that last infusion because each one did more damage than the previous. It’s not just the treatments, but feeling as if your body is not your own as your condition deteriorates under the chemicals. I look at my friend, Barbara, and think what a lion she is for enduring chemo not once, but THREE times and yet she is so grounded and strong.

i always welcome the arrival of the brilliant green aspen leaves

But my appointment was a happy occasion because my oncologist was back. He had been on leave for cancer treatment – a horrible treatment far worse than mine, and yet here he was looking great and joking and smiling and being his awesome self. My onc is one of the finest human beings I have ever had the privilege to know. Truly. We adore him. I asked about my MRI results and he pulled them up on the computer (electronic records ROCK) and read them out to me. Negative. No cancer detected. He sent a copy to the printer for me to have. He smiled at me and I smiled at Jeremy who squeezed my hand.

last light over the local peaks

By my estimates, we’ve experienced about 7 days of spring between the last snow storm and the onslaught of hot weather. 80°F on my deck is hot and not in the good way. Even Kaweah is sprawled out in the cool office instead of roasting her brains in the great room right now. Despite the heat, our house is in a particularly good mood this weekend – more so than usual. Part of that could be the MRI results and part of that could be this pickled Chinese cabbage I’m noshing.

start with a head of napa cabbage

wash, shake off, and blot dry the leaves

It happens more often than you might think. I’ll describe a dish to my parents and ask if they know how to make it, but when they describe the recipe I’ll say, “That doesn’t sound like what I’m talking about.” I can imagine their frustration because if I were them I’d be all “Okay, whatever, I can’t help you.” But they insist their recipe is correct or Mom will call Grandma for her recipe (which is invariably different from Mom’s or Dad’s recipe) and I’m just confused. I went with intuition and a little help from each of their recipes to come up with this salty, sweet, vinegary, spicy, fragrant, cold pickled cabbage.

slice up the leaves

mix and boil the pickling liquid

**Jump for more butter**

Recipe: cherry-almond clafoutis

[Thanks to 5280 Magazine for the shout out! I’m honored, even if you called my tone irreverent – which it is. When I first moved to Colorado, I thought 5280 was a truncated zipcode and it really puzzled the hell out of me. Congratulations to fellow blogger Rebecca Caro for making the list too.]

Strawberry who? I’m just joshin’ around. This house is still loving the strawberries, but now those shiny, luscious cherries are making their appearance in the markets. Consider me enamored. I associate summer with small fruits that stain your hands deep reds and purples. Messy and sweet. Summer equals berries. But wait – cherries are drupes.

a bowl of cherries sounds better than a bowl of drupes

We buy a lot of fruit on a regular basis – a rainbow of fruits. From our groceries, you’d think we are healthy eaters. That’s only a half-truth. Half of the fruit is for Jeremy because he’s fruitist. He discriminates against drupes… doesn’t like drupes. I married a guy who won’t eat plums, peaches, nectarines, mangoes (seriously?!), or cherries. I know I’m not the only food blogger who married a picky-picky. What is up with that? Okay, this was going somewhere… We don’t own a cherry pitter because I’m the only one who eats cherries. I recently made a Fine Cooking recipe that called for pitted cherries. In the back of the issue, they had some nice tips on how to pit them without a pitter, including one method which uses a straw.

i happen to have a nice metal straw

pierce the bottom with the straw, then push from the top

**Jump for more butter**

Recipe: plum blossom sushi roll

I walked up to the register and placed a pair of sunglasses and a Camelbak pack on the counter. I mustered the friendliest smile I could, as it had been a long and hot day. That counter felt so nice and cool on my hands that I was tempted to stretch my upper body across the surface and roll around on it, I was so flush from the sun and heat. The REI employee asked me what I was going to do this weekend, it was Memorial Day weekend after all. I was caught off guard. Holiday weekend? I knew it was a holiday weekend, but I didn’t actually have anything planned other than work. “I need to work this weekend,” I offered with another smile – this one more from embarrassment than trying to mask my exhaustion. Apparently, that was the wrong answer. He was mortified. “You can’t work! It’s going to be beautiful! It’s a long weekend – you should be drinking cold beers and kicking back!” I neither drink cold beers nor do I kick back. I opened my mouth to start explaining how I a) love what I do and b) live where people go on vacation, but he cut me off insisting that I promise I would have some fun this weekend. Yes, yes of course.

Friday was brutal for this mountain girl as I had an afternoon bridal shoot in Denver… and the high was 93°F. It didn’t even get to 90°F when I was shooting in Death Valley – this was the hottest I’ve experienced so far this year *gah*. It wasn’t a heat wave, it was a heat smackdown. As Erin deftly negotiated Denver’s Memorial Day weekend traffic and Manisha navigated the way to the botanical gardens, I was jerry-rigging a bouquet in the backseat. Flowers don’t lie. Those suckers wilted before I could fire off the first set of photos. Bummer.

oh, that’s sad

Luckily, Kitt had a nice bunch of peonies that Erin wrapped into a pretty bouquet while the hydrangeas were dying before our lenses. We lucked out: a giant cap of clouds hovered above us and our bride remained cool as a cucumber. At the end of the shoot, Manisha grinned and said, “You suffer for your work, girl!” I was sweating like a pig. 93°F is why I live in the Rockies and not on the Great Plains.

kitt with living flowers

a laughing erin walks kitt to the next bridge

wearing her mother’s wedding gown – very special

You can see more photos from the shoot on my photoblog. After three hours, we hugged Kitt good-bye and piled into Erin’s car to go roast in more Friday-afternoon-of-a-long-holiday-weekend-Denver-rush-hour-compounded-by-poorly-timed-construction traffic. I was hot, tired, dehydrated, sticky, smelly… I had goose poop and tree sap stuck between my sandals and my feet. Jeremy took me to happy hour so I could rehydrate with water in one hand and lemonade in the other. Boulder’s Pearl Street was hopping Friday evening.

another beautiful day in paradise boulder

And here we are at the end of May. I’m looking around wondering where the heck THAT month went. Our weather is finally stabilizing up here in the mountains such that it’s safe to put the deck furniture out without worry that another 4 inches of snow (or 12 for that matter) will blanket everything. I did not lie to the man at REI – we’ve been working all weekend. You know how some people winterize their house? We summerize ours. That entails putting ultraviolet-reflecting stickers on our windows to prevent bird crashes (especially the cute little hummingbirds), house maintenance, sanding and oiling our deck furniture, designing a system to keep us from incinerating on the deck during daylight hours, making multiple trips to the hardware store, and so on and so forth. Did I mention that I love my power sander? Well, I do.

while jeremy put the stickers up, three hummingbirds flew right up to him

kaweah supervises the progress

However you spent your weekend, I hope it involved some good food, great people, and happy memories. Boulder County Public Schools are out for summer and the neighbor’s trampoline has been getting non-stop use since Thursday afternoon. Instead of hearing children squealing and laughing in the evenings, we hear it all day. It’s awesome. Now that Nature has rubbed my face in summer, I’m over the initial shock. I am loathe to turn on the stove or the oven if I can avoid it on those hot days (however, it’s a dry heat), which is why sushi is so delightfully perfect.

start with masago (flying fish roe) scallops, avocado, and maguro (tuna)

mix up the scallops and masago with a little mayo

**Jump for more butter**