Casa Walsh

Last Sunday, my Mom and I took the ferry out to the Boston Harbor Islands. It was a perfect day - sunny, light breeze - and the ferry was packed with couples and families weighed down by coolers, beach chairs, and canvas tote bags. Lesson 1: Get there early. We arrived at the Long Warf dock 20 minutes before the ferry’s scheduled departure and were the last two people allowed on the boat.

For $10 you get a roundtrip to George’s Island. From there you can take smaller boats to the other islands. On Sunday, only one other island was open to the public: Grape Island. Luckily, Grape was number 1 on Mom’s “islands to visit” list.

Lesson 2: Pack a lunch. We didn’t have coolers, but I stashed an ice pack in my bag for our sandwiches and juice boxes. Saturday night I stayed home and made goat cheese popovers, in two sizes. This is my idea of a perfect Saturday night. I am lame. 

Mom accidentally sat on the popovers on the boat to Grape Island. I knew I had a zillion more at home, so I didn’t get mad.

Grape Island has no made-made structures, except for a little grape arbor, and a couple of “privies”. The island vegetation was almost exclusively berry bushes (blackberry, raspberry, gooseberry, bayberry), aspens, and staghorn sumac.

Lesson 3: Go to Grape Island in mid-July, not mid-June if you want to eat berries.  

We followed the grassy paths on the island and then walked around the shoreline.

George’s Island was crowded with picnickers and family barbeques. Grape Island was much quieter. We wandered off the paths and didn’t run into anyone until we treked back to the boat dock.

Lesson #4: Get in line *early* for the ferry back to Boston. We waited in line for a half hour and didn’t make it on the boat, so we had to wait another 45 minutes in line for the next ferry.

A pleasant and inexpensive way to spend a summer day. Even your Mom will be impressed.

Last Sunday, my Mom and I took the ferry out to the Boston Harbor Islands. It was a perfect day - sunny, light breeze - and the ferry was packed with couples and families weighed down by coolers, beach chairs, and canvas tote bags. Lesson 1: Get there early. We arrived at the Long Warf dock 20 minutes before the ferry’s scheduled departure and were the last two people allowed on the boat.

For $10 you get a roundtrip to George’s Island. From there you can take smaller boats to the other islands. On Sunday, only one other island was open to the public: Grape Island. Luckily, Grape was number 1 on Mom’s “islands to visit” list.

Lesson 2: Pack a lunch. We didn’t have coolers, but I stashed an ice pack in my bag for our sandwiches and juice boxes. Saturday night I stayed home and made goat cheese popovers, in two sizes. This is my idea of a perfect Saturday night. I am lame. 

Mom accidentally sat on the popovers on the boat to Grape Island. I knew I had a zillion more at home, so I didn’t get mad.

Grape Island has no made-made structures, except for a little grape arbor, and a couple of “privies”. The island vegetation was almost exclusively berry bushes (blackberry, raspberry, gooseberry, bayberry), aspens, and staghorn sumac.

Lesson 3: Go to Grape Island in mid-July, not mid-June if you want to eat berries.  

We followed the grassy paths on the island and then walked around the shoreline.

George’s Island was crowded with picnickers and family barbeques. Grape Island was much quieter. We wandered off the paths and didn’t run into anyone until we treked back to the boat dock.

Lesson #4: Get in line *early* for the ferry back to Boston. We waited in line for a half hour and didn’t make it on the boat, so we had to wait another 45 minutes in line for the next ferry.

A pleasant and inexpensive way to spend a summer day. Even your Mom will be impressed.

Last Sunday, my Mom and I took the ferry out to the Boston Harbor Islands. It was a perfect day - sunny, light breeze - and the ferry was packed with couples and families weighed down by coolers, beach chairs, and canvas tote bags. Lesson 1: Get there early. We arrived at the Long Warf dock 20 minutes before the ferry’s scheduled departure and were the last two people allowed on the boat.

For $10 you get a roundtrip to George’s Island. From there you can take smaller boats to the other islands. On Sunday, only one other island was open to the public: Grape Island. Luckily, Grape was number 1 on Mom’s “islands to visit” list.

Lesson 2: Pack a lunch. We didn’t have coolers, but I stashed an ice pack in my bag for our sandwiches and juice boxes. Saturday night I stayed home and made goat cheese popovers, in two sizes. This is my idea of a perfect Saturday night. I am lame. 

Mom accidentally sat on the popovers on the boat to Grape Island. I knew I had a zillion more at home, so I didn’t get mad.

Grape Island has no made-made structures, except for a little grape arbor, and a couple of “privies”. The island vegetation was almost exclusively berry bushes (blackberry, raspberry, gooseberry, bayberry), aspens, and staghorn sumac.

Lesson 3: Go to Grape Island in mid-July, not mid-June if you want to eat berries.  

We followed the grassy paths on the island and then walked around the shoreline.

George’s Island was crowded with picnickers and family barbeques. Grape Island was much quieter. We wandered off the paths and didn’t run into anyone until we treked back to the boat dock.

Lesson #4: Get in line *early* for the ferry back to Boston. We waited in line for a half hour and didn’t make it on the boat, so we had to wait another 45 minutes in line for the next ferry.

A pleasant and inexpensive way to spend a summer day. Even your Mom will be impressed.

I only took a dozen pictures during our trip to steamy Orlando. I haven’t embraced the digital camera routine of take lots of pictures now, pick out the good ones later. Let’s see if you can pick out my favorite subject.

The view from our room:

“hotel view”

While Peeler endured hours of team building exercises and mission statement crafting, I spent most of my free time by the pool.

Saturday! Free day! You’re in Orlando, it’s 95 degrees, sunny and humid. What do you do? Play 36 holes of mini golf.

We escaped heatstroke and headed to Universal Studios - Islands of Adventure.

Peeler and I held backpacks and stood under the misting fans while Dan, Joe, Mike and Aida rode the roller coasters.

Good thing we saved our strength for Jurassic Park, The Ride:

Whew, scary dinosaurs. After a narrow escape from the raptors, we visited the Dino-Exploratorium. Or was it Jurassic Park, The Fake Science Center?

Peeler melded his DNA with a dino to create the ugliest creature of the Cretaceous or any era.

Paleontologist Dan, with his latest find:

“paleo-dan”

The on-the-loose dinosaurs left the bakery unscathed, thank goodness:

“eclair1″

I only took a dozen pictures during our trip to steamy Orlando. I haven’t embraced the digital camera routine of take lots of pictures now, pick out the good ones later. Let’s see if you can pick out my favorite subject.

The view from our room:

“hotel view”

While Peeler endured hours of team building exercises and mission statement crafting, I spent most of my free time by the pool.

Saturday! Free day! You’re in Orlando, it’s 95 degrees, sunny and humid. What do you do? Play 36 holes of mini golf.

We escaped heatstroke and headed to Universal Studios - Islands of Adventure.

Peeler and I held backpacks and stood under the misting fans while Dan, Joe, Mike and Aida rode the roller coasters.

Good thing we saved our strength for Jurassic Park, The Ride:

Whew, scary dinosaurs. After a narrow escape from the raptors, we visited the Dino-Exploratorium. Or was it Jurassic Park, The Fake Science Center?

Peeler melded his DNA with a dino to create the ugliest creature of the Cretaceous or any era.

Paleontologist Dan, with his latest find:

“paleo-dan”

The on-the-loose dinosaurs left the bakery unscathed, thank goodness:

“eclair1″

I only took a dozen pictures during our trip to steamy Orlando. I haven’t embraced the digital camera routine of take lots of pictures now, pick out the good ones later. Let’s see if you can pick out my favorite subject.

The view from our room:

“hotel view”

While Peeler endured hours of team building exercises and mission statement crafting, I spent most of my free time by the pool.

Saturday! Free day! You’re in Orlando, it’s 95 degrees, sunny and humid. What do you do? Play 36 holes of mini golf.

We escaped heatstroke and headed to Universal Studios - Islands of Adventure.

Peeler and I held backpacks and stood under the misting fans while Dan, Joe, Mike and Aida rode the roller coasters.

Good thing we saved our strength for Jurassic Park, The Ride:

Whew, scary dinosaurs. After a narrow escape from the raptors, we visited the Dino-Exploratorium. Or was it Jurassic Park, The Fake Science Center?

Peeler melded his DNA with a dino to create the ugliest creature of the Cretaceous or any era.

Paleontologist Dan, with his latest find:

“paleo-dan”

The on-the-loose dinosaurs left the bakery unscathed, thank goodness:

“eclair1″

I love my bike. I love riding in Cambridge. Cars don’t scare me anymore. And with my new bell, I can warn all the pregnant ladies to stay to the sidewalk. When my family lived in Manchester, NH for a few of my grade-school years I had the awesomest bike. I remember everything about it. Dad bought it for me at a yard sale. Painted a bright shade of purple, it had white striped detailing and a big “S” on the seat. “S, for Swanson,” Dad told me. “Or speedy.” The seat broke during one of my explorations. It fell off, and I had to ride home standing up with the seat under my arm. I was miserable about it, and I demanded that I come to the repair shop to rescue my mended bike. I didn’t recognize it at first – they replaced the Swanson seat with a huge, rust-colored, velvet-upholstered, banana seat.

On the afternoons I didn’t want to go to my after-school sitter, I would sneak home, climb the stairs up to the third floor porch, pry open the screen on the kitchen window, push up the glass and squeeze through the window, tumbling onto the kitchen floor. Then I would liberate my bike, and zoom around the neighborhood. My eastern boundary was the elementary school. To the north, I’d go no further than the park, where I’d stop and climb up onto the stone lions flanking the entrance, or shimmy up one of the crabapple trees and suck on the sour fruit. The furthest south I’d travel was to the candy store. Prob just a convenience store, but it was the place where I could get those boxed candies for a dime — lemonheads, baked beans, and candy cigarettes.

Today I bike to the Bread and Circus and to work. Summer skirts now fall into two categories: bike-friendly and bike-unfriendly – not by length, or how likely the skirt will fly up into my lap and display my underwear to pedestrians and drivers, but by ease of movement. Can I sit on the seat and move the pedals up and down? Yes? Great. Today I’m wearing a short sleeve shirt dress with a slit up the front. No problems pedaling, but I was thankful for my slip. I suppose I’m not revealing any more than those dudes with the short spandex bike shorts. Right?

Oh! We leave tomorrow morning for Orlando. I didn’t cancel produce delivery this week. I will be the only person ever to bring oranges to Florida. Some things I won’t bring, and while they’ll probably survive until Sunday afternoon, let me know if you want me to leave spinach, zucchini, grapefruit or a cantaloupe on the porch for you. While you’re there, you can check if a (late, late, too late for Florida) package arrived for me. The package does not contain a new pair of shoes.

I love my bike. I love riding in Cambridge. Cars don’t scare me anymore. And with my new bell, I can warn all the pregnant ladies to stay to the sidewalk. When my family lived in Manchester, NH for a few of my grade-school years I had the awesomest bike. I remember everything about it. Dad bought it for me at a yard sale. Painted a bright shade of purple, it had white striped detailing and a big “S” on the seat. “S, for Swanson,” Dad told me. “Or speedy.” The seat broke during one of my explorations. It fell off, and I had to ride home standing up with the seat under my arm. I was miserable about it, and I demanded that I come to the repair shop to rescue my mended bike. I didn’t recognize it at first – they replaced the Swanson seat with a huge, rust-colored, velvet-upholstered, banana seat.

On the afternoons I didn’t want to go to my after-school sitter, I would sneak home, climb the stairs up to the third floor porch, pry open the screen on the kitchen window, push up the glass and squeeze through the window, tumbling onto the kitchen floor. Then I would liberate my bike, and zoom around the neighborhood. My eastern boundary was the elementary school. To the north, I’d go no further than the park, where I’d stop and climb up onto the stone lions flanking the entrance, or shimmy up one of the crabapple trees and suck on the sour fruit. The furthest south I’d travel was to the candy store. Prob just a convenience store, but it was the place where I could get those boxed candies for a dime — lemonheads, baked beans, and candy cigarettes.

Today I bike to the Bread and Circus and to work. Summer skirts now fall into two categories: bike-friendly and bike-unfriendly – not by length, or how likely the skirt will fly up into my lap and display my underwear to pedestrians and drivers, but by ease of movement. Can I sit on the seat and move the pedals up and down? Yes? Great. Today I’m wearing a short sleeve shirt dress with a slit up the front. No problems pedaling, but I was thankful for my slip. I suppose I’m not revealing any more than those dudes with the short spandex bike shorts. Right?

Oh! We leave tomorrow morning for Orlando. I didn’t cancel produce delivery this week. I will be the only person ever to bring oranges to Florida. Some things I won’t bring, and while they’ll probably survive until Sunday afternoon, let me know if you want me to leave spinach, zucchini, grapefruit or a cantaloupe on the porch for you. While you’re there, you can check if a (late, late, too late for Florida) package arrived for me. The package does not contain a new pair of shoes.

I love my bike. I love riding in Cambridge. Cars don’t scare me anymore. And with my new bell, I can warn all the pregnant ladies to stay to the sidewalk. When my family lived in Manchester, NH for a few of my grade-school years I had the awesomest bike. I remember everything about it. Dad bought it for me at a yard sale. Painted a bright shade of purple, it had white striped detailing and a big “S” on the seat. “S, for Swanson,” Dad told me. “Or speedy.” The seat broke during one of my explorations. It fell off, and I had to ride home standing up with the seat under my arm. I was miserable about it, and I demanded that I come to the repair shop to rescue my mended bike. I didn’t recognize it at first – they replaced the Swanson seat with a huge, rust-colored, velvet-upholstered, banana seat.

On the afternoons I didn’t want to go to my after-school sitter, I would sneak home, climb the stairs up to the third floor porch, pry open the screen on the kitchen window, push up the glass and squeeze through the window, tumbling onto the kitchen floor. Then I would liberate my bike, and zoom around the neighborhood. My eastern boundary was the elementary school. To the north, I’d go no further than the park, where I’d stop and climb up onto the stone lions flanking the entrance, or shimmy up one of the crabapple trees and suck on the sour fruit. The furthest south I’d travel was to the candy store. Prob just a convenience store, but it was the place where I could get those boxed candies for a dime — lemonheads, baked beans, and candy cigarettes.

Today I bike to the Bread and Circus and to work. Summer skirts now fall into two categories: bike-friendly and bike-unfriendly – not by length, or how likely the skirt will fly up into my lap and display my underwear to pedestrians and drivers, but by ease of movement. Can I sit on the seat and move the pedals up and down? Yes? Great. Today I’m wearing a short sleeve shirt dress with a slit up the front. No problems pedaling, but I was thankful for my slip. I suppose I’m not revealing any more than those dudes with the short spandex bike shorts. Right?

Oh! We leave tomorrow morning for Orlando. I didn’t cancel produce delivery this week. I will be the only person ever to bring oranges to Florida. Some things I won’t bring, and while they’ll probably survive until Sunday afternoon, let me know if you want me to leave spinach, zucchini, grapefruit or a cantaloupe on the porch for you. While you’re there, you can check if a (late, late, too late for Florida) package arrived for me. The package does not contain a new pair of shoes.

I didn’t leave the house for two days out of the three-day weekend. Awesome. But don’t think I was 100% lazy. I cleaned the bathroom and kitchen floors, read the Sunday paper, watched a couple dvds, did a big grocery shop, and dog-eared my June cooking magazines.

The weekend is when I try to creatively use the remaining produce from Wednesday’s delivery (note: I did not say box).

Saturday afternoon I poached some tuna with lemon slices and peppercorns -the best preparation for frozen tuna steaks from Trader Joe’s.  The quality of the frozen tuna isn’t quite high enough for searing (although I do it anyway - usually with a rub of lemon zest, garlic, parsley and rosemary). On Sunday I tossed the poached tuna with lemon juice, mustard, olive oil, chopped celery tomato and sweet pickles for a tuna salad. 

Also on Sunday, I made tiny lemon cakes for Marisa and Joe’s barbeque, from a recipe in Everyday Food. I use recipes from this Martha Stewart spin-off much more often than my other cooking magazines which I use more for technique and inspiration.

Monday. A recipe for “liquid ohm” from Cooking Light called for ingredients I had in my house: A bag of frozen mango in the freezer, and organic carrots, oranges, and pears. And ginger and chamomile (Sleepy Time) tea.  

And it gave me an excuse to use my awesome red juicer that Fran bought for me at a yard sale.

Fran’s negotiating skills were thwarted by the seller who immediately suggested a price of one dollar after Fran readied herself to talk her down to $5.

Here’s the very orange juice after a visit to the blender.

It must sit in the refrigerator for many hours, then it’s strained to remove any pulpy bits. I had a glass this morning. Very tasty.

Monday’s dinner was roasted mustardy potatoes (Everyday Food) and sauteed broccoli with garlic.