Another dog, another potato salad

Upon careful review, it seems I can't quite keep away from certain topics here. You know what they are: sea turtles, the beach, dogs...and recently, potato salad. I promise not to mention it, at least for awhile, after this post. But since some of you very dear readers commented on the undeniable charm of potato salad when it's freshly made and the potatoes are still a bit warm, I have one more to share. But rescue before food, my dears.

Pictured is Rubin, who joined us as a foster dog today. I have a feeling he won't be here long: he is a perfectly beautiful Boxer, a dark brindle color like our old dear Sheba. (For those of you who didn't know Sheba, she helped us raise our boys in a manner reminscent of the dog Nana in "Peter Pan" and was an honored member of our family for nearly 14 years.) Rubin is a young dog, full of energy and very eager to please, and he's sure to find a forever home soon. It's always enlightening to bring a foster home and observe (and of course direct) the dynamics of the pack. This is a guy without much experience with other dogs, so it was really fun to watch our dogs exert their varying influences. Meg's timid nature challenged his ability to control dominance impulses. Ty, who brooks no nonsense, tolerated him with her usual disdain. Calvin was the hero of the day. He was the soul of balance, setting an example of calm for everyone else. We learn something new from every dog, and Rubin is no exception.

So: the potato salad and then I really DO promise to shut up about it. This is based on a Moosewood Cookbook recipe with my own touches. It's too exotic for most of my family but I love to make it when Katie is home. (Remind me to put it on the list of favorites this fall, when the whole gang is home from Africa....)

If you can get them, Yukon Gold potatoes are lovely for this salad. Peel and shop as you would for any other potato salad, seasoning with some kosher salt as they cook. If you have new potatoes or those tiny red bliss potatoes, don't peel them, just scrub them well and chop into the size you want before cooking; kosher salt still applies, of course. I'm not sure how to tell you how many potatoes you need for this; I'd use about 2-1/2 pounds but it's a salad: you can't go wrong with the proportions. You can refine next time you make the recipe, so don't let it worry you.

While the potatoes are cooking, dice an onion and a clove or two of garlic. Saute these gently in a touch of olive oil, seasoning lightly with salt and pepper. Very finely chop some fresh parsley (or other fresh herbs, as you like - a touch of fresh thyme or rosemary would be lovely) and set this aside. When the onion and garlic are translucent and fragrant and the potatoes are fork-tender and have been drained, toss together in your best big salad bowl along with the chopped herbs. Add an 8-ounce container of ricotta cheese, toss gently and serve while warm. This is one of those recipes in which a low-fat or even fat-free ricotta will do very nicely. Bon appetit!

P.S. Rodney and I noted Guana sea turtle nest N138 this weekend. If the turtles of the southern half of Guana State Park are keeping pace, there should be well over 200 sea turtle nests so far this season. In the immortal words of Lulumarie (and indeed, of us all): GO, baby sea turtles!

Rescue Me

Quite by accident, we got ourselves into the Boxer rescue business nearly 20 years ago, because a small, strange-looking wet brown thing appeared at our window on a rainy evening when Mac was small and I was actively nesting. I'm pretty maternal by nature and ordinal position, but it was red-zone-mothering when the boys were little. So this small wet pathetic thing turned out to be a Boxer puppy who belonged to a neighbor and couldn't stand being left alone while he worked. Over and over again, she escaped to our house; each time I bathed her and fed her and she curled up with tiny Mac to sleep and finally the neighbor just said, "Pay her vet bill and keep her." And so we did. She came to us with what I thought was the embarrassing name "Sheba", and we asked Mac for his thoughts on a new name for her. He was about 2 years old, extremely talkative though not in a language usually recognizable as English but rather some patois of his own creation. But on this occasion he removed his pacifier from his mouth (I know, I know) and gave thoughtful consideration to the matter. He ruminated for 20 or 30 seconds, and then said deliberately, "I think a good name for Sheba would be...Sheba." And so it was.

Later we would rescue in a variety of ways 3 dogs who stayed with us and were part of our family. Sheba died peacefully at the Boxer-ancient age of 14. Rocco was put to sleep at 13; Faye was about that same age. And by this time, we knew we always wanted dogs with us, and that we understood this breed in some fundamental way. And in our search for a young dog to accompany our seniors into graceful old age and be with us as our boys flew from the nest, we connected with a group called Boxer Aid and Rescue Coalition, fostered a dog, and were hooked. Well, in fairness, I was hooked and my most excellent husband came along for the ride until he was hooked, too. It was - and is - harder for the boys. The coming and going of foster dogs is harder for them, but they are kind to their mother and usually pretty indulgent.
After being part of a remarkable bucket brigade of volunteers who helped place April and several other dogs in happy homes, we helped rescue Zeke. He was a hard case, needing lots of work to rehabilitate whatever had shaped into a defensive, sometimes- aggressive hard timer. With help from other BARC volunteers, hard work, research, reading Cesar Millan, and coaching from a local dog behaviorist, "The Muttman", we brought Zeke along step by step, with Rodney putting his heart into the work. About 6 months into the work, Zeke, who'd made great progress and become a beloved member of the pack, fell over dead. (This happens rarely but consistently with dogs in our climate who have heartworms. I can tell you more about this, if you like, but you probably know it, and you are probably careful to be sure your own dogs get a dose of HeartGuard or something like it every month. Until we became active foster people, I really had no idea.)This weekend, we spent most of our time driving from St. Augustine to Jacksonville to St. Augustine to Starke to St. Augustine, trying to find a foster home for a dog who'd been adopted through BARC and has become somewhat neurotic and has special needs. You don't plan to spend your weekends doing this, of course, but sometimes you gotta step up. Stepping up with us are the volunteers of BARC, other rescue groups including Paws in Prison, Cathy Sherman's amazing organization which has been subject to some of the troubles that plague all rescue groups, and unsung heroes including vets like those at Antigua Veterinary in St. Augustine and Scott Mill Animal Hospital in Mandarin.

This is tiny work, I know. We could be among the heroic legion in Haiti, helping reassemble broken lives and allevaite suffering already beyond description and only made more intense and more intensely visible by the recent earthquake. And there are a million other things. But we make the planet better in this small way, rescuing dogs. And we are humbled every day by the sacrifices made to make the planet better. So whatever you do, whether it's saving animals or giving advice or chicken and dumplings or music or reminding people that azaleas are sometimes in too great a hurry to welcome spring: whatever it is, you make the planet a better place and we are grateful, indeed.

Pictured (top to bottom): Prissy Miss April, Bandit (Donnie), Zeke and Olive. April is taken to breakfast at Panera by her wonderful family; Bandit is in Dog Heaven with his new pack, and Olive is still in foster care. Zeke will live in our hearts forever.

Evening at The Creek, with some comfort food

Our land slopes gently away to the back and touches the tiny narrowing finger of Stokes Creek, connecting it to the Tolomato River, and connecting us to Guana Reserve. You'd hardly believe it, but when the tide is right, someone who knows the curves and unseen shallows can navigate right out to the river and, in theory at least, follow the Intracoastal Waterway as far north or south as they care to go along the eastern seaboard. Here is how it looks this evening, as the light changes. I know many dear friends are gathered at Gatorbone, celebrating years of creative work culminating in the release of a new CD by the talented Doug Spears, and we're sorry not to be with them.

The best laid plans, though, are often derailed by kids or weather or, in our case, dogs. Since we began our affiliation with the Boxer Aid and Rescue Coalition, we've been foster parents to some amazing dogs. We're proud to say we've helped to permanent, loving homes several Boxers who might otherwise have come to sad ends. It's an organization of dedicated volunteers, and every dog is touched by the work of many people. I'll tell you the story of this group and its work later, my dears, because there are some seriously happy endings to be had. But for today, we were engaged in helping the organization accept an owner-surrendered dog, and it took a bit more time and effort than we expected. We relaxed with a glass of wine by the creek and I thought you'd like the pictures.

And because I haven't included a recipe lately, here's one I've been thinking about. This is one of those things you're a little embarrassed to publish on a menu because you know it's not original, you know everyone cooks it, and you know it's not to be found in any of Julia's cookbooks. But it's such a comforting dessert, so homey and plain, that you know Julia would have put a dab of it on her plate if she'd come to your house at Thanksgiving. There are many variations (including an appalling version with sugar- and fat-free ingredients and worst of all, fake whipped cream). You can make it into a simple food wonder with some additional preparation, so here's an Eat Here staple: Banana Pudding.

You'll need to make a quart or so of vanilla pudding. My grandmother Dade made puddings so routinely that they required no concentration at all, and certainly no recipe. Come to think of it, I have no memory of her even owning cookbooks; she cooked beautifully and effortlessly. It was the work of a moment for her to whip up pies for my cousin Susan and I when we stayed with her in childhood summers. Susan liked butterscotch and I liked chocolate, and if we made the slightest sound indicating that we might enjoy a slice of pie, before we knew it, she'd have two pies made, from crust to pudding to perfectly gilded meringue (which Susan did not like and would surreptitiously slip onto my plate). No shortcuts. So it IS possible, and you should make vanilla pudding from scratch if you can. It's better for you, of course, and it avoids that vague taste of chemicals you get from the box. One of my culinary heroines is Susan Purdy, author of my beloved "A Piece of Cake". Since she taught me that it's really not that much more work to bake from scratch, I've abandoned cake and pudding mixes almost completely, with a few delightful exceptions (another Eat Here recipe, my dears). But whatever works best for you; boxed or homemade, you'll need about a quart.

Vanilla wafers are another one of those things you can make homemade more easily than you think, and with dramatic results. I know, I know. I buy them, too. But if it's holiday time, and you're baking cookies anyway, look at the Fannie Farmer cookbook or whichever you prefer and make them from scratch. They're more delicate and full-flavored than the storebought ones. If your palate is accustomed to things from boxes, you'll think these are another food category altogether. But they're plain and simple, and you can actually taste subtleties you didn't know vanilla had. Again, whatever is best for you.

Here's the easy part. Line a 13 x 9 inch baking dish with the cookies, whichever you use. Cover with pudding (warm pudding is easier to work with) and add a solid layer of fresh sliced bananas. (Here's another opportunity: vary the fruit. Use whatever you like, as long as it doesn't change the equation too drastically by having too much moisture. Berries, cleaned and dried, elevate this recipe from the homely to the spectacular.) Layer away until you've run out of the key ingredients of cookies, pudding and fruit. Cover and chill. If you have cookies leftover, you can crush them and garnish the top. And of course you can always add whipped cream, but you sure don't need it.Every now and then, take a bowl of this ambrosia and sit under the setting sun with your sweetheart or friends, or even just yourself. I hope your view is perfect, your company impeccable and your pudding a small taste of home.