Tammy Gilley Studios

In the Kitchen with Julia and Mom

 

It's a tradition.  Every Christmas.  Baking a yule log.  To be precise, baking Julia Child's Buche de Noel.  Oui.  Tres bien!!

I may have mentioned this before, but I'm a Franco-fanatic.  It's French?  Oui, je t'aime.  I love it.  Automatically. 

It all started as a little girl.  My mother was also a Francophile, studied the French language all through high school and college.  When I was little, I'm talking four years old, Mom made me French flash cards.  On a deck of blank index cards, she drew simple pictures of every day things like "cat", "dog", "house", "mother", colors, numbers, and so on.  Then she printed the English word underneath the drawing.  On the back, she printed the French word.  I practiced with those cards for hours with her.

 
She also read me all the Madeline books, the Babar books, and anything else she could find at the library that was in any way French.

That's when my love affair began.

When I got a little older, I began watching The French Chef with her on PBS.  Oh, how I loved Julia and her pearls and her jovial self.  I loved the way Mom wrote down each recipe, with notes in the margins of her legal pad on tips Julia might have given to do this or that.  I loved the way Mom laughed at Julia's little asides.  I wanted to be just like Mom and Julia.

During one episode, Julia made her Buche de Noel.  Mom and I were swooning.  And that's when the tradition began.  We made our first yule log when I was about eight-years-old, I think.  We made it during the day on Christmas Eve, to eat by the Christmas tree that evening after dinner.

In the early days, I mostly sifted flour, licked bowls, and taste-tested.  But as I grew older, I became more and more involved in the process.  And every year, we made it together on Christmas Eve.  When I came home from college, when I spent the holidays with my folks as an adult...Christmas Eve would find Mom and I in her kitchen, yule-logging.  We'd have a bit of egg nog or a glass of champagne as we made meringue mushrooms and chocolate buttercream frosting.  We would laugh and chat and sip.  Julia would have loved being in the kitchen with us, I think.

When I lost my mom a few years ago, I made my first buche de noel in my own kitchen.  It was terribly sad, and I thought I might not be able to do it anymore.  But last year, I invited my 12-year-old niece to join me, and began to pass the tradition on to her.  We had a wonderful time!  And at Thanksgiving this year, she said, "You know, Aunt Tammy, I was in a bakery and saw a yule log the other day.  It wasn't nearly as nice as ours!"  I loved that.

We enjoyed our annual "A Very Gilley Christmas" gathering over the past weekend, and though scheduling didn't permit my niece to sous-chef for me - or would that be sous-yule-log? - I baked Mom and Julia's buche de noel for my family.  When I walked into her house, my sister's eyes lit up and she squealed, "oh the yule log!  I'm so happy to see it!  I know it's a tradition and that it would be here, but it just makes me happy to see it!"  Me, too, Sis.   

 
Had a little break in the rain this morning, so I skeedaddled out to the garden to take some photos.  I love the fresh feeling of a morning-after-rainy-night.  My flower pots are still lovely because we've enjoyed such nice weather this fall, and with a little kiss of moisture, and under the gray cloud cover, they just look especially beautiful this morning.  I had to share.

I've been so reisting the change of seasons from summer to fall this year, because our summer came so, so late to the Pacific Northwest.  I just wanted it to last a little (really...a lot) longer.  And, the truth is, I've been riding around town topless up until this week.  So.  I can't complain.  And, I feel sort of ready now.  Ready to cozy into wool sweaters and candlelight and apple crisp.

The hardest thing for me to let go of when the weather turns cool?  My flip flops.  Anyone else?  I know!  I live in them all summer long.  But, let me tell you something.  Hot flashes?  I pretty much loathe them, but I will say, they're keeping me in flip flops, even though the weather has turned cooler.  You've got to make lemonade out of lemons, right?  If I must have hot flashes, at least I can have them in flip flops.  hahaha

The cooler weather beckons me to the studio, too.  Which is a good thing, since at last count I have been accepted to five art fairs.  I'm giddy with excitement, tickled pink!  Truly.  So, I'm grateful for the rain this morning, because it's moved me into megacreativemode.  I took time yesterday to plan out the next three weeks before the Llewellyn HolidayMarket and Abernethy Art & Craft Fair.  I'm a planner.  Must know what needs to happen when, in order to get it all done.  I literally printed out calendars from the internet, and laid out daily goals to keep me on task.  Because.  With so much to do, I tend to become a deer-in-headlights.  There's so much, that I get a little bit paralyzed.  But not today.  No siree!  In fact, I feel pretty good about my timeline, my tasks, and how they're all fitting together.  Again...that "everything is happening just as it should be" mode.  Seriously.  It's like some benevolent alien has booted my inner critic and settled in to soothe me into the whirl of holiday art fairs.  I'm a little blown away by it.  So not my usual modus operandi.  Am riding this wave as long as I can.

In the meantime, I made fresh chocolate chip banana bread yesterday afternoon.  Am settled in to my studio chair, with a steamy mug of coffee in one hand, paint brush in the other.  Lucky, lucky girl.

Fall. Ing.

 
I really can't deny it much longer.  Fall is definitely in the air.  The days are getting shorter.  Peaches and berries are being replaced by pumpkins and squash at the farmers market.  Aren't these artichoke blooms beautiful?

 
And the Brussels sprouts.  I'm not a huge fan, but these were just gorgeous, ginormous, and caught my eye. 

 
These squash blossoms were lovely, too.  Really begging for a light batter and quick dip in some hot oil.  I've never tried to doing deep-fried squash blossoms myself, have you?

 
Beets, fabulous beets!  I did buy a bunch of these.  Am looking forward to a few slices with bleu cheese crumbles and chopped hazelnuts tonight.  Does it get any better than that??!!

 
Must. Get. Out. More.  I've never seen orange or purple cauliflower.  It's almost pretty enough for me to possiblymaybethinkabout eating.

 
Such fun fall colors.  In baskets.  Loving it.  Makes me happy.
This booth always catches my eye.  Their presentation is wonderful.  Lots of color, lots of textures, lots and lots of farmer goodness.

 
Pretty fall bloomers.  Sadly, I sort of lose interest in my garden by this time, at least in terms of planting new things.  But these little orange poker thingies were awfully pretty.  I'm chewing on it this week.  May get some next week to plant.  Start a whole new thing.  Planting flowers in the fall.

 
And here they are.  The pumpkins.  Sort of like Santa at the end of the Thanksgiving Day Parade.  Fall officially is here.  Enjoy!

 

Flower Baskets

 

This two-tiered wire basket has been in our garden for a couple of years, just being sort of a rusty relic/artistic element.  (Read: I've been too lazy to plant flowers in it.)  In my defense, I wasn't really sure what I wanted to put in there, and how I was going to make it work.  I knew I could use coconut grass.  But I don't really like coconut grass.  Although, the squirrels do, and before the end of summer, anything planted in a coconut grass-lined basket has been pillaged as nesting material.  Anyway.  Then I spied this stuff at Al's.

 
I seriously can't believe I bought Oregon moss-in-a-bag.  I mean... this is Oregon.  There's green moss everywhere!  But, the two-tiered relic has been rusting in my garden two years already.  Who knows when I'd find time to harvest Oregon green moss for my do-it-yourself-you-lazy-girl project.  So.  Onto my cart it went, and off I went to checkout.

 

It turns out, I dig this packaged Oregon green moss, even if I didn't dig it up myself.  Look how pretty it is in the baskets!  I added dirt (from yet another bag...egads!) and these sweet little begonias...

...et voila!  Rusty-relic-turned-fab-flower-planter!

 Now.  To find homes for these little pots of happy.

Ready for Spring

I'm boycotting my socks, wearing my shoes without them.

Driving with the top down (and the heat cranked) even though it's only 50 degrees.

Cooking pasta primavera with springtime veggies picked up at our local farmstand.

Looking at photos from last summer, dreaming of sunny days and warm evenings.

I keep thinking that if I do these things, spring will have no choice but to arrive on our rainy doorstep.

I am so over the rain.  Rainiest April on record, I heard yesterday.  In fact, I'm killing time right now, waiting for the clouds to break so that I can finally go out to the garden and do a little spring cleaning.  I mean, seriously people...Mother's Day is next weekend, and my garden still looks as if it's mid-January.  Ugh.

And speaking of Uggs, I'm ready to trade them in for my flip flops. 

So, I'm putting out a call to all of you out there.  Maybe if we all whip up some pasta primavera and put on our flip flops, spring will arrive.  A sort of universal sun dance, if you will. 

At least we'll be eating well!  Bon appetit.

Tammy's Pasta Primavera

• 8 oz. uncooked spaghetti
• 2 t. olive oil
• 1 onion, cut into wedges
• 2 c. broccoli florets
• 1 yellow squash
• 1 red (I actually used an orange one, just for fun) bell pepper
• 1 c. chicken broth
• 1 t. dried parsley (or 1/4 c. fresh)
• 1 t. dried basil (or 1/4 c. fresh)
• 3 T. lemon juice
• 1/2 t. kosher salt
• 1/4 t. fresh ground pepper
• 3 T. parmesan cheese

Cook spaghetti according to package directions.  Drain.

While pasta is cooking, heat olive oil in large skillet.  Add onion and saute until nearly transparent.

Add remaining veggies and chicken broth.  Stir.  Over and simmer about 6 minutes.

Add parsley, basil, lemon juice, salt, and pepper.  Stir and cook 1 minute more.

Add spaghetti to veggies and toss well. 

Sprinkle with parmesan cheese, and serve.

The great thing about this recipe is that you can add whatever veggies you like.  I'm the only broccoli fan in our house, so if I'm making it for the two of us, I subsitute some zucchini or peas.  If you like, you can also add some sauted chicken breast or prawns or a little prosciutto.  Yum!

In other news, look what arrived on my (rainy) doorstep the other day:  Monica's Holiday Happy fabric!  And, some of Lecien's Color Basics to go along with it. 

Oh. My. Holiday NERVES!  I can hardly wait to play with these!!  I'm in blissful fabric nirvana. 

But, for now, I'm just having fun fondling them.  They're so much fun, so whimsical, so Monica, such pretty colors.  Fun, fun, double, FUN!  Makes me happy, happy with a capital Holiday!

Rain, rain, rain

 
Just when my spring fever was getting into full swing, the Pacific Northwest weather is dumping buckets of rain and blowing it sideways today.  It's diabolical.  All of the beautiful cherry blossoms that just a few days ago were pink, puffy clouds lining the streets, are now being pummled, and the rain has taken on a pink snowstorm effect. 

 
I should spend the day in the sewing room.  However, what I really want is a tube of Pillsbury chocolate chip cookie dough, a spoon, and a good movie.

 
It's been one of those weeks, you know?  It started Sunday when our main water line started coughing up water into the street level floor of our rowhouse.  Ack!  I was in the studio, my beloved was in the office, when I heard what sounded like a fountain on steroids.  We had a load of laundry going, so I chalked it up to that.  When I went downstairs to make us a tasty little something for lunch, it was as if I stepped from the last stair into a sponge.  I giant, mushy sponge. 

 
"Umm...honey...we have a situation..."

 
Armed with a load of old towels and a full arsenal of words and phrases that would make a logger blush, we set about mopping up the gallons of water that we could see.

 
It's what we couldn't see that made us nervous.

 
We called the plumber, who came and tunneled a giant serpent of tightly-coiled metal through our main water line.  Then the "recovery team" arrived with their moisture meters and dryer-outers, and set up a very noisy camp in the downstairs hallway and powder room.  Egads.  The noise.  I could barely hear the voices inside my head. 

 
So, today, I write you from the dry upstairs.  Our house is about 180 degrees, and has been all week due to the industrial turbo fans and dehumidifiers blasting 24 hours a day downstairs.  I feel like I'm having a perpetual hot flash.  And it sounds like a jet liner is going to take off from the kitchen at any moment. 

 
Strangely, the ice maker shut down yesterday.  I'm having to drink my Jack Daniels neat.

 
Hey, a girl's got to cope.

 
Happily, the little man with his magic moisture meter is coming today.  Hopefully, we're all dried up and he's taking all of his contraptions with him, and life can get back to normal around here. 

 
These are photos of a few of my favorite corners in our home.  Above sea level.  I'll spare you any attempt at artsy photos of the drying-out apperatus.  And some photos from my inspiration books.  Their pages are working overtime for me today. 

Born of Necessity

Mmm hmmm.  We had a "situation" in the kitchen.

Of the waterlogged variety.

Padded in one morning last week in my stocking-ed feet to make coffee, feed the dog, the usual.  Stepped onto the kitchen rug, and pulled up a soaking wet foot.  Dropped to my knees, opened the cupboard, and was met with a giant puddle. 

Had to toss the kitchen rug.

Which sent me scurrying into the sewing room (AFTER I made the coffee, of course) to my box of 2-1/2" strips.  (Yes.  I have a box full of 2-1/2" strips.  Why wouldn't I?  Better yet, why don't you?  They should be stored right between the First Aid Kit and the Emergency Chocolate.)

Because, this was, in fact, a kitchen rug emergency.

Stitched up some strips.  Sandwiched some batting between that and a random 1/2 yard of fabric from the stash, and voila, crisis controlled. 

Loved it so much, I made one for The-Planet's-Cutest-White-Furball-Ever and his bowls, too.

Digging in the Dirt

One of my hanging baskets didn't survive the heat wave of a few weeks ago, so I decided to replant it for a little late summer color before adding in my fall posies.

It's a really lovely basket, all by itself.  Sort of a scroll-y wire basket with a patina-green finish.  It's lined with coconut grass.  I love it, and love being able to select my own plants to fill it with each season.  I really love going to the farmer's market and to local nurseries to find unique flowers to put into it.  So, it wasn't a great hardship to have to start again, if you know what I mean.

Once I got back home, I started pulling the dead plants out of my basket.  As I got to about the third plant (it's a large-ish basket, and I cram about seven or eight in there), I was getting a lot of resistence.  Upon closer investigation, I noticed this...

...what looked like a big wad of dead plant-stuff.

However...

...upon closer inspection...

...I realized a tiny bird must have made a nest in my pretty hanging basket.

It was obviously abandoned.  I'm not even sure if the bird laid any eggs in it. 

But it makes me happy to think it made its home here, however briefly.

As I carefully removed the nest from my flower basket, I realized that if I'd been in any more of a hurry (as it was, I was blindly and quickly pulling out dead plants!) I would have missed this little treasure.  It was a reminder, a little voice whispering to me to slow down, keep watch, don't miss any of it. 

Beat the Heat

It's been unusually hot here in the Pacific Northwest.  We're enjoying a bit of a respite now, but the last couple of weeks have been wilty, melty hot.

Never too hot for a little mini-vacation in the garden, though.  A few good books, a mango smoothie, and the fine mist of the sprinkler make for an enjoyable afternoon.

I thought I'd share a few of my favorite garden corners.  Our old home was 60 years old, on a quarter-acre lot.  We loved it, and I grew a big, beautiful garden in the backyard.  

When we downsized to our rowhouse, we looked for one that had a small patio garden. 

It's the perfect size.  I get my "dirt therapy", but the size of the garden doesn't dictate my summer. 

I've had so much fun tending to every little detail in my tiny little garden. 

This is Nicodemus.  He came from my grandfather's garden.  My grandfather was my gardening mentor.  He lived in Hawaii and referred to his garden as his "Chop Suey Jungle".  It was full of hibiscus, jade plant, avocado trees, and all sorts of tropical flora and fauna.  He'd get up before sunrise every single morning for his dirt therapy.  I can remember when he and my grandmother lived in southern Oregon when I was a wee tot.  I'd sit with him in his garden while he worked, Nicodemus between the two of us.  It smelled like fresh barkdust and dew.  The sun was warm on our faces, but the breeze was cool and lovely.  When he passed away, Nicodemus lived in my dad's garden.  When my folks passed, I brought Nicodemus to live with me.  A cement baby isn't something I'd necessarily go out and buy, but I love the history that Nicodemus and I share.

Mine is a small garden, but crammed full of garden-y goodness.

Oh.  And try this for a summer cool-down.  It's delish!

Tammy's Mango Smoothie

1/2 banana, sliced
small handful of Trader Joe's Frozen Mango Chunks
small handful of ice cubes
about 1/2 cup of fresh orange juice

Place all of this into your blender, and blend until smooth.  Pour into a glass, grab your trashy summer novel, and enjoy.  (Makes one serving.)

There are more garden photos over here.