This page out of my daughter Laurel's cookbook just about reflects the atmosphere in my home during Thanksgiving. One disaster after another.

It all started when I saw the coupon for a free turkey at Fred Meyers. Just buy $100.00 worth of food and the turkey is yours. I made my list, and on Monday I drove over. But much to my disappointment my list didn't tally up to that amount. I had to supplement my purchases with non-essentials, like a Coleman raincoat for $19.99 and a 2-man tent for $30. I balanced it on top of the cart, sideways, then went to get a 10 lb. turkey. (Yes, I'm sure people wondered why I'd be camping when it is 32 degrees outside with a 30 percent chance of rain.)

When I checked the freezer in the meat department, all the small turkeys had been taken, so I had to lug home a 21 lb. bird to feed a small family of four - Ruhiyyih, who flew in from Washington D.C., Rahmat, and George and I. I asked the clerk if they had anything smaller, and she said all of them had been taken over the weekend. So, here I was, stuck with 21 lbs. of meat, and all four of us are primarily vegetarian. I looked at that turkey and thought how in the world will I ever use up all that meat!

This was a perfect moment to get creative and plan ahead. I thought I could slice up most of the white meat and freeze it for turkey sandwiches for when we hike. The dark meat could be finely chopped for casseroles and soup. I could render the bones and fat into broth and save it for soups. So, I decided to cook the turkey a day ahead, on Wednesday. I spent the day boning it and processing all the pieces. That done, only half a turkey breast remained for Thanksgiving and a few portions remained for a turkey pot pie or a Moroccan pilaf the next day. Big mistake. BIG mistake.

The day after Thanksgiving, everyone wanted open-faced turkey sandwiches. When the whole tribe of Dannells arrived home from bowling on Friday night, they blasted into the kitchen, hoping for left-overs. I dampened their enthusiasm considerably when I pulled out this instead: Moroccan pilaf.

Ruhiyyih looked at me as if I'd just socked her in the jaw! She was not impressed with a bunch of prunes, dried apricots and cranberries sitting in a pot of rice. She wanted an open faced sandwich, with mashed potatoes and gravy! She'd traveled over 3,000 miles to taste Thanksgiving, with the impression of pilgrims and Indians, not some meat marinated in cardamon, hot sauce, and honey!

Breakfast was another disappointment. Since Ruhiyyih is vegetarian, I served a stir-fry slaw - cauliflower, broccoli and carrots, onion, parsley and bok choy. I serve this on top of chunk red salmon, and throw a bunch of peanuts, sunflower seeds, almonds and cranberries on top. Add a bowl of fresh grapes, and you have the vegetarian equivalent of ham and eggs with hash-browns! Ruhiyyih started chewing, and a half hour later, still chewing, said "This meal kinda slows one down... by the way, why isn't Dad cooking anymore?" She missed his ham and eggs, and French toast slathered with syrup. She was missing 'the old home she has always known', the old comfort foods she grew up on. I mentioned that since George came down with diabetes we've had to make considerable changes, with a more careful diet. This took some time to process...

I did make a low-sugar pumpkin pie, and a few small huckleberry-blueberry pies. I enjoyed coffee in the morning with Ruhiyyih.
This was a banana bread I made in a round loaf pan, then decorated with starburst drizzle. I served it at our Ruhi class on Wednesday night.

Ruhiyyih had a packed schedule while she was here, and she'll feature it in her blog when she goes back home. A highlight for her was watching me teach Laurel how to make pecan cinnamon rolls on Monday, something I've made for over 40 years. She video-taped us, and it was a delight to show Laurel the antics of yeast.

We had a vigorous hike on the south fork of the Skokomish River on Saturday. This rugged area has a wonderful variety of walking terrain - an old growth forest of huge 100 year old trees, with little creeks and bridges and tons of ferns and frozen mushrooms. Taraz tree-climbing. This was quite a stretch!
Taraz inside an old rotted tree.

Megan had a meal waiting for all of us at their home - wild rice pilaf, macaroni and cheese, and split pea soup. Wonderful aromas, wholesome and filling food! We were so hungry, George just groaned with delight. Isn't that the way it goes... some foods just fill the soul. Afterwards, George read books from their library, Taraz and Megan puttered on their laptops, and Rahmat and I threw little beanbags back and forth across the room. Then, Rahmat layed down on the floor with a book. Life sure felt good.

Wishing You A Happy Thanksgiving

What a flurry of activity surrounds this time of year! Ruhiyyih will be flying home for Thanksgiving, and I've been counting the days, baking, cooking, and getting the guest room ready. She will arrive Thanksgiving day, and my oldest daughter Laurel will pick her up at SeaTac airport.

The family will have a number of gatherings throughout the week to celebrate Ruhiyyih's arrival. We hope to get in some hiking, possibly some canoeing if the weather is good, and all the 'kids' plan to go out on the town together. Laurel, Ruhiyyih and I plan to bake cinnamon rolls at Laurel's home, and do a little shopping on Monday.

On Friday night George, Rahmat and I went to the One Heart Cafe where Taraz works. This little espresso shop had an evening of music and poetry. Taraz served tea to the guests, and people danced. The music pounded through the room, guests were hooting and clapping, and the rhythm carried all the way out into the street.

Ayesha, a very lovely and energetic hostess for the evening.

Before we left One Heart Cafe, Taraz and Rahmat enjoyed some videos on U Tube.

George and I attended a baby shower for our Baha'i friend, Bahereh, who expects her baby boy in two weeks. This will be her second child. The shower was in her home, hosted by our friends Lori and Christine, who presented the usual games, making the afternoon quite delightful.
Here, Bahereh's mother greets a guest.

These are some of Bahereh's Persian friends. They brought their children, and their husbands sat out in the livingroom, away from all the commotion. This was a most delightful occasion, with everyone squealing over baby garments, booties and blankets. I can't think of a more wonderful way to celebrate Thanksgiving than to look forward to the arrival of a new baby.

Ruhiyyih tagged me on one of her last posts, but I've just been too busy to pick up on that tag, which was to mention a few things about myself. She knows I have a hard time figuring out what to say when pinned down for details like that, as I can't imagine anything in particular what would be worth mentioning! She called and said, "Oh Mom! Just list a few!", even providing a list of things she particularly remembers. (The stuff kids remember, parents want to forget!) So, I'll just end this post with gratitudes, for family, for friends, and for art, music, good books, and the laughter and play that my grown children bring into our lives. They love to be together even as adults, and this is very rewarding to an old lady like myself, because someday I will be gone. Their endearing bonds of friendship will perpetuate the legacy of our family life.

We attended Tim and Debbie's Devotional meeting on Sunday, which is held once a month in their home. Here, Mauricio is singing a Baha'i prayer. November 12th is a Baha'i Holy Day, the Birth of Baha'u'llah.

Debbie prepared writings and prayers as part of the program, and Raul helped her with music selections.

Raul has the sweetest temperament, very quick to offer a grin.

This is Issac, oldest son of Tim and Debbie. I think I've known Issac since he was about four years old, and it seems just like yesterday that he was Raul's age. I cannot help but wonder where all that time has gone.

And, this is last photo is of George and Rahmat on one of the hikes we took this weekend, one at Woodland Park in Puyallup and the other in the Pack Forest near Mt. Rainier. I wasn't certain how long we'd be gone, or how cold it was going to be, so I packed hearty sandwiches (cheese and salmon, with broccoli coleslaw on whole wheat), a thermos of home-made minestrone soup, and lime yogurt. The minute George saw the sandwiches, he devoured his, before we even hit the trail. Rahmat and I waited, carrying them in our back-packs. This time of year I carry emergency supplies in every pack, so that if we get lost and have to separate, everyone has the essentials for survival - food, water, fire-starters, rope, first-aid kit, paper and pens, phones and ponchos.

I enjoyed the vines entangling this tree. What a strong, durable life-grip. Everything inching upward into any available light.

I haven't posted for awhile, as I've raided our public library. I've checked out so many books it took two trips out to the car to get them home. Of course, one, "The Treasures of Islamic Art in the Museums of Cairo" by Bernard O'Kane, seemed to weigh a ton. The photographs in this book are simply exquisite. Islamic art is foremost about the divine, and the form and rhythms of even the most utilitarian objects bear something of the essence of the Islamic faith: divine unity, balance, and peace.

"Once Upon a Country - A Palestinian Life" by Sari Nusseibeh is not only an autobiography but also the story of Nusseibeh's country, a work of depth, compassion and emotional power. Nusseibeh - now a university president - has family roots that can be traced back to the Middle Ages. His father has served as the governor of Jerusalem.

"The Mountains of Serbia" by Anne Kindersley (1976) offers glimpses into the lives of the Serbs and Albanians. This is a travel book, beginning with two short historical sketches which provide a background for the main narrative. The Serbian landscape has great Byzantine churches with old wall paintings which the author explains in detail. The author describes rich folktales, ancient chronicles and hymns, epic poems, and the daily simple life in the late 60's.

Another book I'm skimming is "Cathay - A journey in Search of Old China" by Fergus M. Bordewich (1991). He goes into the remote areas, through lost cities of the Taklamakan desert, through misty mountains, and along the gorges of the Yangzi. Pilgrims, hermits, Tibetan mountaineers, and Red Guards befriend him along the way.

Paradise and the Wonderland Trail on Mt Rainier

Well, if you can get past that explosion of ethnic hair on Rahmat, we'll meander into a few details of our weekend. (And, if you are still intrigued by the hair, I'll just add that George and I unwittingly present the catastrophe that happens when love knows no geographical boundaries. Offspring are beset with genetic data that dates back to pre-historic times. Asia and Africa and Europe all collide in Rahmat's hair.)

When Rahmat was walking with George along the trails up on Mt. Rainier, he seemed to come out of a time warp, shoulders hunched forward like a cave man. I thought he looked like the men in that movie "Quest For Fire". But, his gait was definitely post-modern. He sauntered up the trails at Paradise with an audio player in his pocket, earphones attached.

Snow blanketed the meadows, and fog and clouds drifted through the trees creating a chiarsocuro effect. This made everything look quite dark, as if it was very late in the day. It was really quite hushed and lovely.

While George and Rahmat walked up the trail I listened to the sounds of little streams, and watched water gurgle and drain under the ice on the trail. I lagged behind, taking my time, careful of my steps as the trails had some very slippery areas packed into hard ice by other hikers.

As we descended into lower alpine valleys, the last colors of fall covered the mountainsides. We noticed that two little foxes waited for hand-outs near the visitor center, and the ranger was cautioning everyone not to feed them. There is a $60.00 fine for feeding any animals in the park - even birds, chipmunks, and marmots. It interferes with their natural foraging instincts and causes them to become dependent on humans for their survival. This little fox came up to me as I squatted down to video-tape her, and that was not a good thing. She may not last through the winter.

Speaking of food, I only packed trail-mix and fruit leather for snacks, so before we did our two hikes up on Mt Rainier (Paradise and the Wonderland Trail at Longmire) we fueled up on Scaleburgers at Elbe, fifteen miles from the park. We've stopped here a number of times, and they make the best burgers and home-fries. We spent the afternoon exploring and 'power-walking' through the cedar forests at Paradise and on the Wonderland Trail. I call it that because it was all I could do to keep up with George and Rahmat on this last hike. They wanted a workout, whereas I had to stop and examine mushrooms and moss, and generally enjoy the peace and beauty of the ancient old forest.

We had dinner at the Copper Creek Inn just outside the park. As we drove by I noticed the lights coming from the window, and told George that it looked so welcoming and warm. So, we stopped. The interior is rustic, with broad wooden floors, wooden tables and chairs, all hand-made. A little gift shop was tucked in a front corner, and a bakery in the back. Homemade breads and huckleberry pies are for sale. As we sat down, I noticed that most of the customers were other hikers, dressed in warm vests and hiking boots. A couple of rangers were having dinner at a table nearby. The chatter was lively and good natured, creating the most congenial atmosphere.

The food here was exceptionally good and prepared to perfection. Homemade breads, fragrant salads, and prime rib that was an inch thick. I ordered lightly breaded halibut that was deep fried and lightly golden. The guys wanted prime rib. This was Rahmat's first experience with horseradish, and it was amusing to see him sample it, with no great appreciation. The little salad here came with the meal. When my halibut arrived, I entirely forgot about snapping a photo. All of us certainly enjoyed our hearty meal, bringing home three boxes of left-overs for the next day.

Last Of The Apples

I always experience a twinge of nostalgia when I put up my last jar of home- canned apple- sauce. It reminds me of the years - actually decades - of home-canning I used to do when my children were little. (Pictured above: Cranberry applesauce). I had four large garden plots with the Metropolitan Park District, and I grew many of our vegetables. These are the last of my tomatoes this year, brought in early to avoid getting damaged by frost.

Garden-grown vegetables just have a flavor and zest that cannot be found in produce picked and processed by giant food companies. When I had my garden, I picked corn, peas, beans, and tomatoes every day, and made the most wonderful salads. I even grew my own herbs, like cilantro, parsley, oregano and mint.

Some years, if I had the seeds, I experimented with buckwheat and millet, and grew my own clover and oats, which I fed to the birds. The back rows of my plots always had squash, sunflowers and climbing beans. The front rows had experimental things, like fava beans, gourds, or purple Peruvian potatoes. The other gardeners would watch to see how these things would grow.

As the carrots would mature, I'd can them in a Harvard sauce, and the same with the beets. Come winter these vegetables would add zest to our evening meals. We'd go berry picking, too, and I'd can at least 12 quarts of Blackberry jam, to go with peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches. To this day, many of my kids still yearn for peanut-butter and jelly on a daily basis.

I've processed so much fruit - peaches, cherries, plums, apples and strawberries. Oftentime it was for a syrup or jam, but oftentimes it was whole fruit preserves from local orchards. One year I processed so many cherries from my parents trees, that it lasted us five years. But, everything eventually got used. This year I've only processed the plums from our tree, by making syrup and fruit leather from the skins and pulp. I was able to use everything.

When we found the old apple tree up the Duckabush River, we were determined to visit it every fall, to collect the little red apples. This year yielded a bushel, and after I made pies, applesauce bread, and applesauce, I used the 'reject apples' for fruit leather. It takes about 12 hours of drying in the oven at a low temperature, with a little fan attached to the side to circulate the air.

I have made so much fruit leather that I've lost track of my production amount. But, the little apples yielded six cookie sheets worth. These are my first two sheets. I finished the last batch yesterday. We took some of the fruit leather on our camping trip last weekend, and it was really a hit. It is nice to chew on while hiking.