Lovely Little Things #1
1.1.25
I like to keep myself wrapped in layers of sleep and wait for the geraniums. - Ursula Hegi
The geraniums have made it to the new year, but really, was there any doubt? I dug them up after a raging summer of heat, and from parched window boxes none-the-less, only to have them happily revive with the smallest of effort. Water and a pot for each plant was all the required.
Mom visited the greenhouse a few weeks ago, smiling at the bright flush of red amongst the monotonous green of citrus leaves and lettuce, and reminded me that my Grandpa also dug his red geraniums each fall. It wasn’t until she reminded me of that memory that I could also see the trays of tender tubers and perennials lined up in his root cellar (frightening as they were to a young child) Dark, hairy, roots and tendrils shot out from under the newspaper that covered them, more aggressively as the winter went on, living, still limbs reaching for the sun.
Mom hates the smell of geraniums. I for the life of me cannot figure out how anyone could. To traditional gardeners, geraniums are hardly the bell-of-the-ball but I find this positively ridiculous. It may be our tendency to lean into tender, high-maintenance, and rare treasures - life isn’t sustained by such fuss.
Gardening guides will encourage one to trim back, pull off spent leaves, and fertilize for the winter. I do none of this, almost in an attempt to test the geraniums sturdiness, and they do just fine as-is.
According to the language of flowers, geraniums symbolize “enduring connections”, often given as gifts between friends in a show of affection and camaraderie. I’d like to think today they serve as a connection between last year and the one ahead.
1.3.25
“Children take more notice of what their parents do than what they say. In essence, more is caught than taught.”
1.4.25
I stumbled across Martha Stewart on Amazon the other day, perhaps a new series of hers? I was too young to be a part of the “Martha movement” of the 90s, but any input that keeps me on track and inspired in my homemaking is a welcomed addition to the home. She brought up the idea of a home-notebook in which all tasks and information is consolidated into a 3-ring notebook with dividers for each room. Does this mean sticky notes and hand-scribbled notes stuck here and there aren’t the most efficient way to manage home tasks?
Have a thought or need, write it down, come back to it as time and money allow.
The living room needs to be painted badly, holes in the wall must be patched, furniture must be deep cleaned (thanks to my sweet little doggies and cats and children), and cobwebs beg to be swept from the corners. January and February are months that we reserve for deep-cleaning and giving attention to pieces of the home that otherwise go unnoticed when the sun and garden beckon us outdoors. I know binders and labels and highlighters don’t fix things… but maybe in this case they just might. Ha.
I do, after all, need a place to organize paint colors, measurements, ideas, and honey-do lists.
I wonder if I have a spare binder around the office…
1.6.25
Owen’s voice is beginning to break… squeaky at all the sweetest moments. Part of me is eager to see the man that he’ll begin shaping into while the other part wishes passionately that I could swaddle him up and rock him bath and forth… this time more to sooth my Mama heart than his sweet baby whimpers.
He’s grown inches in the past few months, sizing out of pants and church shoes faster than I can afford to buy them, the top of his head now tucking in just barely beneath my chin. Luckily he’s always been my best eater - he’ll need plenty of calories to sustain this surge.
Sometimes I have the pleasure of making food that causes Owen to moan… literally moan… as he enjoys it. This is the absolute ultimate compliment to me as an often strung-out-yet-passionate home cook… desperate to place food in front of my children that feels reflective of my love and devotion to both them and the ingredients. Once in awhile, stars align, and the Lord grants me such a moment. For Owen, it’s never over fancy faire, but rather, simple dishes that he finds particularly comforting. Watching him eat these cabbage rolls is pure enjoyment for me. He likes to eat out the filling and save the steamed cabbage leaf that’s been braised with tomato sauce and spices as a treat to enjoy at the very end.
I want to always remember how he enjoyed these every time they’re on the table.
Cabbage Rolls with Passata
Cabbage has been known as “the poor man’s physician” and I think it holds up to the name. Cabbage is universal, inexpensive, and often overlooked. Though these rolls can be made with just vegetables (and are delicious enough with those alone), to turn them into more of an entree, add in any assortment of leftover roast, cooked sausage, or ground meat - even a bit of diced cured meat would do. Leftover rice can also be used. Though the process requires two pans and a bit of baking, it’s very simple and a wonderful task to put your hands to. Don’t worry if the cabbage leaves tear a bit, they’ll still roll and tuck together wonderfully.
1.5 heads green cabbage
¼ cup butter or olive oil
2 onions, peeled and finely chopped
2 carrots, peeled and shredded
1 cup basmati (or similar) rice
3 cups water
2 teaspoons Italian spice mix (or spice mix of choice)
Salt, to taste
14 ounces tomato passata or jarred tomatoes of choice
4 tablespoons finely grated Parmesan cheese
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Add 1 whole head of cabbage into a large pot with a lid. Fill the pot with water until it reaches halfway up the side of the cabbage. Put a lid on the pot and steam the cabbage for 20 minutes or until the leaves are slightly translucent and the cabbage is tender. Rotate the cabbage halfway through the cooking time.
While the first cabbage is steaming, add the butter into a second large pot and melt over medium heat. Chop the remaining cabbage into ¼” pieces and add into the warm butter. Add in the onions and carrots. Allow the vegetables to soften over medium heat for 5 minutes.
Add the basmati rice, water, and Italian spice mix into the vegetable mixture. Stir to combine well. Cover and cook over low heat until the rice is tender, about 20 minutes.
Remove the steaming head of cabbage and place in cold water. Allow it to rest in cold water while the rice finishes steaming.
To assemble the cabbage rolls, first core the steamed cabbage head by using a small knife to cut around the core - it should lift out after it’s been cut. Remove the leaves (carefully!) from the steamed head of cabbage and set aside. Lightly oil a 9x13 baking dish. Working with one cabbage leaf at a time, scoop the rice mixture into the middle and roll the leaf around to create a burrito-shaped roll. Place the roll seam side down in the baking dish. Repeat with the remaining cabbage leaves until the dish is full or no more cabbage leaves remain.
Pour the passata over top of the cabbage rolls and sprinkle with the Parmesan cheese. Bake for 30 minutes or until completely warmed through. Serve immediately.
1.7.25
At only seven weeks out from our month-long-family-trip to Umbria, the “green heart” of Italy, I’ve been working hard on now only practicing my Italian (“practicing” sounds better than stumbling) but also gathering up bits of Umbrian culture, as I can. Just like our states here in the US, each region of Italy boasts its own culture, which then drills down to many particular sub-cultures beyond that. Though I’ve spent time in the north, middle, and south of Italy, I’ve yet to visit Umbria. Some cheap second-hand-finds on Thriftbooks allowed me to fill my night-stand with stories, cultural history, recipes, and tales from this region that we will call home for a month.
Marlena de Blasi is an American-by-birth-Italian-by-heart and perhaps one of the most famous of Umbrian-based authors. I devoured Thursday Night Supper Club and have now moved onto Lady In The Palazzo. Marlena’s deep devotion to food keeps me coming back for more, especially in this month that finds us cherishing the few goods that are in season.
Just as we’d learned by living among the rural Tuscans, we notice that here, too, the average Orvietano farmer lives well until he dies. Until she dies. And that’s most often well into their nineties. Literally, well. This truth has its tenets. Hard physical labor in the outdoors, which begins in youth and continues through the eighties and is always tempered with intervals of rest - most notably, il sacro pisolino, the sacred post-lunch nap. But above all, it’s the Eat what’s ripecommandment that rules, the only constants on the table being bread, wine, and olive oil. Eating or living in any other way but this one is unthinkable, as desirable as a February strawberry.
Lady In The Palazzo
The first lesson of our Umbrian experience has already been noted and documented - it’s in season or it’s not eaten.
Lesson two, of course, is that wine, bread, and oil are our constant table companions.
I had a dream last night, my third this week, that our family arrived at the airport without any clothes, luggage, plans, or tickets.
I’m sure it won’t be the last.
Love,
