Blogging is catching

Two very important people in my life have starting blogging...

http://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.ch is written by my housemate. I can say she takes wonderful photos and as a person who travels much it looks like it really will be an interesting blog. My only problem with her blog is as her problem is with mine that we often live the same thing, especially when we travel together.

The other is http://lovinglifeineurope.blogspot.fr/ from my fiancé who has moved to Argelès. His enthusiasm is such that he isn't bothered YET by the bureaucracy but it is fun to discover my favourite places through his eyes. For those who haven't lived in Europe it is a way to do it vicariously. Meanwhile I love the photo of my street and I can see my nest which is over the big bunch of pink flowers on the right.

Frittata for lunch

Llara and I continue to share lunch meals with the one cooking not cleaning. The one cooking must cook neat.

Here is the frittata she made with the recipe. She added mushrooms as well. And of course our lunch conversation was the same pleasure it always is.

INGREDIENTS·   

• tbsp vegetable oil
• 250g new potatoes, scrubbed and diced
• 450g asparagus, cut into short lengths
• 6 large eggs, beaten
• 1 tbsp chopped fresh tarragon or 1/2 tsp dried
• 2 tbsp freshly grated Parmesan
• salt and freshly ground black pepper

PREPARATION METHOD

Prep: 10 mins | Cook: 20 mins

Heat the oil in a large frying pan, over a medium heat. Add the potatoes and cook for 7–8 minutes, tossing occasionally.

Add the asparagus and 5 tbsp water, sprinkle with salt, cover and steam for 10–12 minutes or until the asparagus and potatoes are tender.

Meanwhile, in a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, tarragon and Parmesan with 1 tbsp of water and pepper to season.

Preheat the grill to moderate. Pour the egg mixture into the pan and swirl it around to cover the vegetables. Cook gently for 4–5 minutes or until the eggs are almost set, shaking the pan from time to time – there will still be some uncooked egg mixture on top.

Place the pan under the grill and cook the frittata for a further 2 minutes or until the top looks set. (If the pan doesn't have a flameproof handle, carefully upturn the fritatta onto a plate, then slide it back into the pan and put it back on the hob to cook the underside.)

Use a spatula to loosen the frittata from the pan and slide it onto a serving platter. Cut into wedges and serve hot or cold. 

COOK'S ALTERNATIVE

The trick for a perfect frittata is to cook over a medium to low heat and allow the mixture to set slowly without stirring. Stirring once the egg has begun to set will break the mixture apart. Too high a heat will burn the base before the egg is set sufficiently to finish under the grill.

COOK SMART

Be sure to use freshly grated Parmesan. It is quite expensive but you don't need to use a lot and the flavour is infinitely superior to ready-grated Parmesan in tubs. * For a vegetarian frittata, use an alternative, strong-flavoured cheese.

An ordinary life by an extraordinary woman

We did not hold a funeral in Florida where my stepmom died. I am in Switzerland with her granddaughter, and her grandson is in California.

We had cared for her with help from others long distance for almost three years sometimes sharing the next steps in daily crisises, at other times a few days or even a week would go by when there were no problems all we needed to do was talk with her.

My stepmom had been raised Catholic but left the church when as a divorced woman she married my dad, a divorced man. After he died, she went back to the church. I was with her the day she first took communion and saw how at peace she was with herself now that she'd made peace with her God.

My lack of religion does not negate my respect for her beliefs. We made sure she had the last rites.

In Geneva there is an anglophone Catholic church and the priest there suggested a mass to pray for her soul. That was last night in a very intimate chapel not far from where I used to work.

He asked me to tell him about her. 

I did citing her service in WWII, her losing a daughter and the disappearance of a son. I told him how much I loved her and how the closest thing we ever had to an argument in all the decades I knew her was her wish I'd let the iron cool before putting it away. I told of the friends who visited her regularly as her mind wandered further from us, but how she never lost her sweetness.

I told him she didn't have a copy of The Ugly Stepmother's Manual, which was a joke she and I shared. I didn't tell him she was a card shark but not for money unless it was for the dime a game she or my dad anted up when either lost to gin rummy. Their winnings paid for their holidays.

Before the mass, he came and asked if were the Nelsons. I said yes. He smiled. "I wanted to make sure you were here," he said.

The chapel is tiny. Cement on one side, wood on another. Candles flickered in red glasses to our right.

The service began with the bells.

The priest talked about my mom citing some of the things I told him, but he framed it that some people live ordinary lives in extraordinary ways and the love that she generated was extraordinary.

I reached for my daughter's hand. My daughter found tissues for us both.

After the mass, as my daughter added one more flickering candle to those already lit as I thanked the priest for his kindness and his words that captured my mom's spirit.

"When you talked to me about her," he said, "You really touched me. There seemed to be so much love in her that I felt she was really an extraordinary woman."

She was.