First of Summer

The heat is on. We scream just because we can. 

Today’s ninety degree heat was set with the reassuring clarity that more good things are to come. There is much movement around the house these days. Milestones and memories both reached and recorded - the elusive flying kiss, a rare occurrence escapes even record time shutter speeds. 

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean-

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

- Mary Oliver 

The Summer Day

"Tell me, what is it you want to do with your one wild and precious life?"

Tweet

The Alameda: June

The Alameda Antiques Fair last Sunday was alive with nothing less than the swag of old-world charm and voracious energy. The fabulous flea market of 800 plus vendors, odd treasures, vintage finds, and inspired ideas is hardcore as far as flea markets go. There's a reason why there are varied fees.  If you're eyeing that vintage french provincial arm chair, layer up, cough up $15.00 and eagerly stand by the gate by 6:00am. Fight through a crowd from 9:00am - 2:00 pm for a mere $5.00 because it's the perfect time for most people. You've had a good meal, didn't have to wake up too early and you're caloric intake is all set to burn on the Alameda runway.  

Even better for others is the FREE 2:00pm slot - which for the curious many is just to walk the rounds without a set list in mind. But then again you can get lucky and bring home a entire box of mis-matched china for $2.00 just because the vendor doesn't want to take it back on the road anymore. 

Ideally though, I think the best time to go would be from 7:30am - 9:00am. Start somewhat early, beat hoards of people, haggle for that vintage chair AND still make it to a fabulous brunch in the city. How's that to start an awesome Sunday.

6:00 AM to 7:30 am $15.00 

7:30 am to 9:00 am $10.00 

9:00 am to 2:00 pm $ 5.00

2:00 pm to 3:00 pm Free! 

Check out more updates on their website:

THE ALAMEDA

Actually some vendors do stay, but there is the general air of being rushed because most of them start packing up past 3:00pm. 

Not all vendors were happy about my camera snapping away, most of them didn't care (probably even expected it) though there were a few sensitive ones who actually stopped me mid-shutter to tell me it wasn't allowed. 

Some notes and favorite images of the day. 

Paper Flowers. Love.

Takeoff!
The Alameda Checklist:
1. Comfortable shoes!
2. Water
3. Sunhat
4. Cash
5. A list of what you want to find. It's overwhelming without one. You'd either end up buying random things you don't really need or end up with nothing at all.

Vintage Eye-candy.

Antique Butter Churner.
A vintage kitchen appliance was on my list, but even if I bought it I really wouldn't have any place to put it.
Just lovely to look at.

Dolls! They freak me out. Which is probably the reason why I'm oddly attracted to them and the sinister glare beset on those ghostly faces.
Just don't leave me in a room with them.
Because they'll probably start talking. 

Love how these frames are hung. Artful without even trying.

Randomly placed on a large tarp bin. Beautiful.
Poetic.
You can almost hear the vague humming of its notes.

Family portrait - with bird in flight. Score.

Gorgeous mirrors that could, possibly, each reflect a different reality. 

Just as curious as the rest of us.
The Bling says it all.

See you July 3rd!

Tweet

Kitchen Curiosity: Strawberry Cupcakes with Fresh Berry Frosting

 Something happened on the way to motherhood. Instinct kicked in and I'm suddenly in the throes of an almost primal hankering for domestic competence - to bake (among other things). 

** Dukan Dieters Beware: Proceed with caution. Sugar and carbs ahead - This was a MAJOR cheat day. ** 

All for fun, folks. 

It’s almost surreal, like walking through the woods and having Disney’s forest friends crawl out of the bushes and break into song; all while two bluebirds rush down from a leafy branch to wrap an apron around my waist and tie it off with a perfectly shaped bow. 

Cue orchestral soundtrack. 

You must know that before I moved to the Bay Area from Manila, I had no idea how to make rice - on a rice cooker.  Not only did I have to re-learn a few things, I had to learn  kitchen and household basics and how to whip up meals with what we had  in the fridge. The first few months was a crash course on homemaking. 

Now that cooking a pretty decent meal is somewhat second nature to me, I figured it’s time to venture out into the unknown, to challenge myself. Besides, much practice is needed for years of bake sales and birthday parties, school projects and sleepovers,  but more importantly - to satisfy an immediate craving.  

A few weeks ago a good friend had brought homemade strawberry cupcakes and it was incredibly tasty and fresh that I couldn’t stop thinking about it. She’s had years of experience (like her entire life) and I, on the other hand, the hungry novice had to look up how to sift flour without a proper sifter. The depth of my baking experience was limited to pasta, a box or two of brownies and tollhouse cookies.  On second thought the cookies probably shouldn’t be counted. 

I suppose I could have made it with store bought cake-mix but the invariable challenge of a completely fresh, home-made cupcake made it all the more appealing. I googled strawberry cupcakes and found this recipe: I fortuitously had everything in my pantry. But then again it’s probably because fresh = simple ingredients. 

CUPCAKE:

1/3 cup fresh pureed strawberries

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, sifted

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon coarse salt

1/4 cup whole milk, room temperature (I only had fat free milk so that’s what I used)

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature

1 cup sugar

1 large egg, room temperature

2 large egg whites, room temperature

FROSTING

1/2 cup fresh strawberries pureed

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, firm and slightly cold

Pinch of coarse salt

3 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar, sifted

1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

You can find the complete recipe HERE.

And so after Mandarin was fed, changed and strapped in her high chair, I rocked out to our nineties playlist and my hand mixer and I went to work. The cake was simple enough, a little bit of elbow grease using a hand mixer, but with fruitful results. The recipe’s cupcake yield was for a dozen but somehow I ended up with 6 mini cupcakes. Not quite sure how that happened because my muffin tins were almost full. 

Improvised sugar sifter. Score. 

Ready to bake!

The frosting recipe only called for three tablespoons of fresh strawberry puree. Three tablespoons!? Three tablespoons is hardly enough, so I tipped my measuring cup and let the berry goodness swirl into ribbons of strawberry delight. 

Sweet Berry Goodness. 

Hello Lover. 

How you like me now. 

This may just be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I mean, they weren’t perfect of course. They tasted pretty good, possibly less sweet next time around. The frosting could’ve been smoother; still I was incredibly proud I created these lovelies with essentially flour, sugar and strawberries. All while my little helper cheered me on. 

Happy Weekend!

Tweet

Blue Fish, Pink Bird, Yellow Star.

Mandarin’s developmental milestones are on a roll. Her most recent being standing up and a real crawl. It’s official! No longer the zombie drag of leg and foot or the seal belly flop. Today, I watched her crawl and move around her play mat on all fours. This of course only means one thing. I need to move my eyes to the back of my head because as soon as I turn around she’s going to jet across the living room and live out the awful scenarios in my head. Like when I turned my back for literally FIVE seconds and suddenly she’s standing up in her high chair. I’ll take that heart attack right now please.

There are a million things that can go wrong and as much as we’d like to build a safety bubble around our children, they will somehow still manage to find a way to hurt themselves. Accidentally. Take ME for example. As much as my parents wanted to protect me, I managed to fracture my left elbow, faint publicly and dislocate my knee. All before I was 18 and none of which involved sports or school. The first while standing on one of those office chairs with wheels, using it as a rolling ladder to get from one end of the shelf to the other while sipping on a juice box. Real smart. The second: dehydration while attending a Pearl Jam concert and the other, well, it was at a Foo Fighters, Sonic Youth, and Beastie Boys concert. Mosh Pit. Another story for another time.

Given the confines of a slated sterile area; a blanket, a mat, an imaginary line where we figuratively draw and fence out the dirty from the clean, why does she still manage to find the laptop cord that I’ve piped along the couch cushions for stealth reasons? I get paranoid that if she gets a hold of it and follows where it leads to her fingers will discover the socket. Like leaving a trail of crumbs. Her attention to indiscriminate things amazes me. The single button on her shirt, any kind of tag, the remote control, the logo on Daddy’s shoe. Her curiosity is entertaining. For now (not when she turns 15!).

And the blue fish, pink bird and yellow star? The point is that she knows what they are. They’re part of a toy that she jiggles around through the day, and there have been a number of times on separate occasions that she’s pointed them out to me when asked where this and that is.

My nine month old. Such great heights.

She is exactly as old as the length of time I carried her through horrific heartburns, backaches, stretch marks, swollen feet and the magical trimesters of feeling my own child grow and stretch and kick - from the inside. Now that she’s here with me, I am drawn to the details ( just like she is ) the delicate curl of her lashes, the lingering sweetness of peach-mango snacks in her palms and how her big toe reminds me of a blueberry. There are many days when I feel lost in the cycles of rinse and repeat and the forecast of dark clouds and sunny breaks and the rest of the stay-at-home hackneyed presets.

Thanks for the photo, Ninang D and Uncle P!

Tonight I find myself watching her make a beeline for the remote control in bed and I know that right this moment, this is where I’m supposed to be.

Tweet