Summerland Clambake

Last night's winter rainstorm made me wish it was summer again. Every July Tom and I go to a little town up the coast called Summerland. We discovered it together on our first anniversary in 2009. We return there again and again each passing year.

It's a small and peaceful beach community just south of Santa Barbara. There is a local winery, a farmer's market and a bikini shop. Days are filled with lounging on the beach and warm summer evenings smell of lavender. We read, go on hikes and make our favorite New England style clambake. It has manilla clams, locally-caught pink Santa Barbara prawns, lobster tails, new potatoes and corn in a golden beer broth. A glass of Summerland Sauvignon Blanc with its grapefruit overtones and some sourdough bread are a perfect complement for this seafood feast.

Summerland Clambake

2 medium onions, cut into large wedges

3 garlic cloves

1 bottle pale ale or medium-bodied beer

1/2 cup water

1 lb small new potatoes (white, red, or a combination)

1/2 lb hot dried chorizo, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

Coarse salt

2 small lobster tails

12 manilla clams, scrubbed well

2 ears of corn, husked and halved

6 large shrimp, shell-on

1 tbsp unsalted butter

2 lemons, halved

1 bunch chopped chives, as garnish

Serves 2 to 4.

Combine onions, garlic, pale ale, and water in a large stockpot. Add potatoes, chorizo, and 1 tablespoon salt. Bring to a boil. Add lobster tails and cook over high heat, covered, for 15 minutes. Add clams and corn. Cook, covered, for 6 minutes. Add shrimp; cook, covered, until clams open and shrimp are cooked through, 4 to 8 minutes.

Remove seafood, corn, potatoes, and chorizo using tongs, and transfer to large platters. Discard any unopened clams. Strain liquid through a sieve into a bowl.

Add butter, swirling to melt. Squeeze lemons over clambake. Garnish with chopped chives.

Mmmm... I think I'll have to make this over the weekend and pretend it's summer.

Olivier Salad

Olivier Salad (Салат Оливье in Russian) is that quintessential dish which brings back so many of my childhood memories. It was always on the table during New Year celebrations, birthdays and anniversaries. As a little girl I helped my grandmother Evdokia dice the ingredients and of course, taste the final product. Every family has its own recipe for this delicious side dish. And so did ours. It was passed down from my great grandma Marfa who was Tzar Nicholas's mother's chef during the Tzariza's stays in Kiev. 

The original version of the salad was invented in the 1860s by a Belgian chef Lucien Olivier at one of Moscow's most famous restaurants - the Hermitage.

As its popularity grew, Olivier's salad quickly became the restaurant's signature dish.

The exact recipe was a jealously guarded secret, but it is known that the salad contained grouse, veal tongue, caviar, lettuce, crayfish tails, capers, and smoked duck.

The original Olivier dressing was a mayonnaise made with French wine vinegar, mustard, and Provençal olive oil.

At the turn of the century, one of Olivier's sous-chefs, Ivan Ivanov, stole his recipe. While preparing the dressing one evening in his customary solitude, Olivier was suddenly called away on an emergency. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Ivanov sneaked into Olivier's private kitchen and based on the executive chef's mise en place, made reasonable assumptions about the recipe.

Later, Ivanov sold the recipe for the salad to various publishing houses, which further contributed to its popularization. After the Olivier family left Russia and the Hermitage closed in 1905, the salad could be referred to as "Olivier."

One of the first printed recipes for the Olivier Salad by Aleksandrova was published in 1894. It called for hazel grouse, potatoes, cornichons, lettuce leaves, crawfish tails, cubed aspic, capers, olives, and mayonnaise. As often with popular gourmet recipes, the ingredients that were rare, expensive and seasonal were gradually replaced with cheaper and more readily available ones.

So here, over a century later, is my family's Olivier Salad recipe.

1 small white onion

4 small boiled russet potatoes

6 hard-boiled eggs

1/2 lb Bologna

12 oz frozen green peas (thawed)

4 dill pickles

1 cup of mayonnaise

Salt and white pepper to taste

Dice all except the peas into 1/4" cubes. Combine with mayonnaise, salt and pepper. Serves 4 with pumpernickel bread triangles.

Shrimp Bisque

I came across a recipe in my Le Cordon Bleu textbook last year that I instantly knew Tom and I would love. It was a very traditional French Shrimp Bisque. It called for cognac, butter, heavy cream and shrimp - ingredients that would inspire any chef in training. I immediately started experimenting and enhancing it. I could practically taste what this soup would turn out like as I read the recipe. I usually begin by executing a recipe as written, but my greatest culinary feats come from playing with new and interesting substitute ingredients that my palette compels me to try. And this bisque is no exception. I've now made many variations of this heavenly dish. Below is my favorite outcome of this delectable dinner for two.

Shrimp and Lobster Bisque

2 oz butter

1 medium brown/yellow onion, small dice

1 carrot, small dice

1 tbsp brown sugar

8 large shrimp, biggest your store can get, shells on

1 small rock lobster tail

Shells of 1 additional lobster, optional*

1/4 cup ketchup

1 tsp smoked paprika

2 springs of fresh thyme

4 parsley stems

1/2 cup cognac

1 cup white wine

4 cups water, cold

Cornstarch slurry (3 tbsp of cornstarch mixed with 1 cup of cold water)

1 cup heavy cream, hot

Salt to taste

White pepper to taste

1/4 cup fresh chives, chopped

Heat butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Add onions, carrots and brown sugar. Sauté until lightly browned. Add lobster tail, shrimp, lobster shells, thyme and parsley stems. Sauté until shrimp and lobster tail turn pink. Add ketchup and smoked paprika and stir well. Add cognac and wine. Simmer until reduced by half. Remove the shrimp and lobster tail. Peel and devein them. Return shells to saucepan. Cut shrimp and lobster meat into small dice and reserve for garnish. Add 4 cups of water and simmer for 15 minutes. Strain. Return soup to saucepan and bring back to a simmer. Add cornstarch slurry a little at a time until soup reaches desired thickening consistency. Season with salt and white pepper.

At serving time, add hot cream, diced shrimp, lobster and chives.

Serves 2 with a French baguette and a glass of Chardonnay.

*One of the most interesting lessons during my culinary studies involved the use of lobster shells as a key flavor building component in seafood stews and sauces. Anytime we have shrimp or lobster, the shells go into a freezer bag, ready for this future recipe. You never know when inspiration will strike!

Mooooo Beef Mooooooo

Photographed with the same lighting setup as the tomatoes.

Okay, so we did follow the tourist office's advice on farmer's markets, and went to one of the big ones in Santa Barbara. Picked up 5 bags of herbs, tomatoes, veggies, fruit, bread, fresh pasta and a nice chunk of BEEF.

Quick run back to the cottage to drop stuff off in the fridge, then over to Summerland Winery. Partially because of our previous experience here (we stayed in Summerland for our first 'anniversary'), and partially because their wine is truly excellent, we gravitate back here every year. There isn't a whole lot going on in Summerland. A couple bar-grills, a tiny old-fashioned grocery market, a bikini shop, a gas station, some cute shops and a great winery. I picked up a Summerland Winery baseball cap, one bottle of Rose Grenache, two of the Sauvignon Blanc and….

The real order of business was getting a big red wine to go with the steak. We picked up their blend called the 'Trio' - a rich, deep red to go with the steak, defrosting at home. This was one of those frozen, organic grain-fed, happy cow chunks of meat you see in farmer's markets these days. Partial bone-in New York strip. Grilled for 7 minutes, then pushed the coals aside, and indirect-heat cooked for another 5. A little patty of Kerrygold Irish butter and steak sauce…. We haven't done much beef lately, so when we do, we try to make it as good and pure and beefy as possible.

Mooooo!

Traveling Light

Fresh tomatoes from the farmer's market. I got a decent picture of these tomatoes with my little SB-400, but for this trip I thought it'd be fun to bring a little more studio lighting, so I brought one of my Flashpoint Strobes along with its tripod and aimed it at the white ceiling of the cottage.  It pushed light more deeply into the bowl with softer shadows, allowed me to shoot a nice depth of field so most of the tomatoes are in focus (f/6.3), revealing the depth of their colors and central to my previous post, all of this plus shooting at ISO100 makes this seem less like a snap of a cheap camera and more like professional photography.

A Little Fish Tale

It's been a year since our last vacation. Between my culinary school and Tom's job it's been really difficult to get away. We're finally away. We're in Santa Barbara for a week, and we're on an epicurean adventure!

Today we went to the tourist information center and asked their staff about farmer's markets and butcher shops and fish mongers. He gave a funny pause but then continued to give us information… which we didn't quite follow. Distracted by Santa Barbara's many wine tasting rooms, we ended up sampling a handful of wines at Kalyra Winery, which happened to be right next door to the Harbor Meat and Seafood Market.

It's sort of an industrial restaurant supplier. It was quite an awesome, strange experience. They had no retail front. It was like walking into the back door of a butcher. We climbed the steps of their loading dock, noticing their signs marked Carniceria to the left and Pescadoria to the right. We went right because the butcher side had just closed. The floors were recently hosed down. The tanks were full of crab. They had a white-board with all their fish and prices posted.

We took the receipt upstairs. Paid cash. And came away with a pound of amazing swordfish steaks cut straight off the big 3-ft chunk. Came back to our rented cottage and grilled it with red onions in a lime-juice marinade, along with a green salad. This is just amazing, it's an awesome beginning of our journey.

An Herbalist's Diary: Parsley

Parsley, Petroselinum hortense is a bright green, biennial, herbaceous plant. It is a member of the Apiaceae family, native to the central Mediterranean region (southern Italy, Algeria and Tunisia), naturalized elsewhere in Europe, and widely cultivated as an herb, a spice and a vegetable.

There is an old superstition against transplanting parsley plants. The herb is said to have been dedicated to Persephone and to funeral rites by the Greeks. It was afterwards consecrated to St. Peter in his character of successor to Charon.

The Greeks held parsley in high esteem, crowning the victors with chaplets of Parsley at the Isthmian games, and making with it wreaths for adorning the tombs of their dead. It was reputed to have sprung from the blood of a Greek hero, Archemorus, the forerunner of death, and Homer relates that chariot horses were fed by warriors with the leaves. Greek gardens were often bordered with Parsley and Rue.

Parsley is widely used in Middle Eastern, European, and American cooking. Curly leaf parsley is often used as a garnish. In central and eastern Europe and in western Asia, many dishes are served with fresh green chopped parsley sprinkled on top. Green parsley is often used as a garnish on potato dishes (boiled or mashed potatoes), on rice dishes (risotto or pilaf), on fish, fried chicken, lamb or goose, steaks, meat or vegetable stews (like beef bourguignon, goulash or chicken paprikash).

In southern and central Europe, parsley is part of bouquet garni, a bundle of fresh herbs used as an ingredient in stocks, soups, and sauces. Freshly chopped green parsley is used as a topping for soups such as chicken soup, green salads or salads such as salade Olivier from my homeland, and on open sandwiches with cold cuts or pâtés. Parsley is a key ingredient in several Middle Eastern salads such as tabbouleh. Persillade is a mixture of chopped garlic and chopped parsley used in French cuisine. Gremolata, a traditional accompaniment to the Italian veal stew and ossobuco alla milanese, is a mixture of parsley, garlic, and lemon zest.

I use parsley so much in my cooking that I actually decided to grow it on our balcony. That proved to be a most difficult feat! Our parsley plant refused to grow for two years until finally this spring that scrawny little herb blossomed into the emerald green beauty you see here.

An Herbalist's Diary: Sage

Sage, Salvia officinalis is a perennial, evergreen subshrub, with woody stems, grayish leaves, and blue to purplish flowers. It is a member of the family Lamiaceae and is native to the Mediterranean region, though it has naturalized in many places throughout the world. It has a long history of medicinal and culinary use, and in modern times is an ornamental garden plant.

Sage has been used since ancient times for warding off evil, snakebites, increasing women's fertility, and more. The Romans introduced it to Europe from Egypt as a medicinal herb. It had a high reputation throughout the Middle Ages, with many sayings referring to its healing properties and value. It was sometimes called S.Salvatrix (sage the savior), and was one of the ingredients of Four Thieves Vinegar, a blend of herbs which was supposed to ward off the plague.

As a kitchen herb, sage has a slight peppery flavor. In British cooking, it is used for flavoring fatty meats, Sage Derby cheese, poultry or pork stuffing, Lincolnshire sausage, and in sauces. Sage is also used in Italian cooking, in the Balkans, and the Middle East. It is one of the major herbs used in the traditional turkey stuffing for the Thanksgiving Day dinner in the United States.

Sage is an herb that transforms its flavor profile when cooked. Lightly sauteed in brown butter, it becomes sweet and delicate, complimenting many dishes. I use it to garnish pumpkin ravioli, gnocchi, wild mushrooms, poultry and game roasts.

An Herbalist's Diary: Rosemary & Thyme

My early childhood in Kiev was that idyllic time that I shall never forget. We lived in a tiny apartment on the sixth floor of a Soviet constructivist high-rise with a community garden. It was surrounded by apple and apricot trees that bloomed in spring, filling the air with most intoxicating perfumes. Our parents planted strawberries, gooseberries, raspberries and herbs. We imagined the garden to be filled with magical lore. It was our playground. It was then that I began collecting herbs and flowers. I dried and glued them into the pages of my handcrafted diary. I looked up their meaning and Latin names in my grandfather’s leather-bound encyclopedias. I often came across botanical drawings beautifully executed with meticulous details like the French 18th century masterpieces by Nicolas François Regnault. Long gone is my childhood. Long lost is my diary. What propels me to recreate a photo version of that diary are memories that I shall cherish for the rest of my life. To this day those herb scented pages stir my senses.

I begin with rosemary and thyme, a most simple pair of herbs that awaken food flavors invoking glimpses of ancient forests from beginning of time.

Rosemary, Rosmarinus officinalis, is a woody, perennial herb with fragrant, evergreen, needle-like leaves and white, pink or purple flowers, native to the Mediterranean region. The name derives from the Latin words ros marinus, which translate as dew of the sea. According to legend, it was draped around the Greek goddess Aphrodite when she rose from the sea. The Virgin Mary is said to have spread her blue cloak over a white-blossomed rosemary bush when she was resting, and the flowers turned blue. The shrub then became known as the 'Rose of Mary'. 

Thyme, Thymus vulgaris or common thyme, is a well-known culinary herb. It also has medicinal uses. Common thyme is also a Mediterranean native. Ancient Egyptians used thyme for embalming. The ancient Greeks used it in their baths and burnt it as incense in their temples, believing it was a source of courage. The spread of thyme throughout Europe was thought to be due to the Romans, as they used it to purify their rooms and to "give an aromatic flavor to cheese and liqueurs". In the European Middle Ages, the herb was placed beneath pillows to aid sleep and ward off nightmares. In this period, women would also often give knights and warriors gifts that included thyme leaves, as it was believed to bring courage to its bearer.

I often start my stocks with this wonderfully fragrant pair of herbs. And as many cooks will attest to, braises and stews come to life with rosemary and thyme.

Lens Talk

Happy strawberry, surrounded by his brioche friends.  I like the amount of focus here. Most 'kit' lenses covering the standard zoom range are compromised in their ability to control focus.  Material costs and design for low weight make for lenses which don't capture much light.  

The glass is smaller, their maximum opening (aperture) is pretty small.  In order for them to collect enough light to properly expose the picture, they need to stay open longer (longer shutter speed) and the physics of their optics means that more of the frame is in focus.  That's great for snapshots of the backyard, sports or street photography where you want everything in focus, but much of the art of photography is the act of getting the viewer to see a subject in the way that you see it, as the artist. To point the viewer's eye to the thing that caught your eye, or moved you to take the shot in the first place.  Slow lenses don't give you much control over for/aft scene-selection.  Often termed 'bokeh' by photographers - throwing the background out of focus.  I prefer to call it controlling the depth of field.  You can have a very deep depth-of-field by choosing a narrow aperture, or you can have a very shallow depth-of-field which puts more of the scene out of focus, save your subject.

This was the culprit.  The reason I went went with Nikon instead of Canon.   The

Nikon 35mm f/1.8 lens.  Small, light, inexpensive, designed for APS-C sized sensors (most easily categorized as DSLR cameras that cost <$2000), and this lens is a steal at ~$200.

You see, back when I was learning photography the only tool I had was an Olympus OM-2N and a 50mm f/1.8 lens.  In its day, it was known for its compactness, large bright viewfinder and build quality.  Loved that combination.  I saw everything through that lens, and a 50mm lens on 35mm film gave what's generally considered 'normal' vision in terms of perspective and magnification.  People have a really wide viewing area, peripheral scope, which is beyond what a flat reproduction can give us, but that gets beyond my scope of knowledge too.

What I can say, is during the time I was choosing a DSLR, Nikon had this lens for $200, and Canon had nothing in comparison.  Canon's offerings were either large $$$$ (4-figure) pro lenses, or older wide angle lenses designed for the film days. These were not as sharp, distortion-free, light, small or as inexpensive.  Canon had squat for modern non-professional DSLRs in this standard perspective range.

So that did it.  I got the Nikon D60.  I also got the Nikon 18-105mm zoom, as a walk-around lens.  During the first year of shooting, I noticed that 75% of my best-rated photos (judging my own shots on a 1-5 scale), were taken with the 35mm lens.  With this lens on, my brain worked more like an artist.  I actively looked for things that would fit into the frame, and when I got the camera to my eye, I could capture what I saw.  With the zoom lens, my brain took shortcuts in the creative process.  I just framed what caught my eye by zooming, and I pulled the shutter.  The skipped step was thinking. Imagining.

It may seem counter-intuitive, in a market where good cameras are judged by how fast and automatically they can capture a moment.  I think those features are great, but especially required for a lot of candid, kids and sports shots.  But my eye was usually drawn to landscape, object and pattern, and speedily snapping these led to unremarkable 'snapshots'.  By forcing myself to slow down, I started considering the subject as art, and by thinking so it becomes so... at least in a few fortunate cases.

So that's my spiel on the standard lens.  But WAIT, this is a Food Blog!  What do I mostly use to take my favorite pictures of food?

50mm f/1.4 lens.  ~$450.  Not so small, light, cheap.  Sigh.  But I love its perspective on food (and Yelena :-).  It has an even wider aperture, giving me the ability to cut an extremely narrow depth-of-field, plus it gets me closer to the food.  It fills the frame with a plate, where the 35mm f/1.8 generally gives me a place-setting.

I'm not into brand wars, so all you Canon people relax - they have two fine lenses at this focal length.  The 50mm 1.8 is cheap at $100, and well-regarded as sharp.  Built cheaply, but sharp!  And the 50mm f/1.4 is very comparable to my Nikon, at ~$400.  Great for food photography.

So now I have a 35mm, a 50mm and a 18-105mm lens bag.  Dang, it crept up on me, but that's a significant bag of glass - so now it becomes hard to jump to Canon.  And am I done?  Of course not!  As a Nikon shooter, if I were to start out thinking of just food photography, I'd get this guy.  The

60mm f/2.8 Micro:

It can get you a little closer to the subject, both in terms of perspective, and minimum focus distance to the subject.  My 50mm f/1.4 can shoot with less light, and can isolate a subject from the background better (blur it out better), but it's more depth-isolation than necessary for most food shots.

This is an example of focus isolation:"too much".  It was taken with the lens wide open at f/1.4.  Click on it to get a bigger look. The lower the f-number, the faster and more wide-open the lens can shoot and the narrower the depth-of-field it's capable of. Cool effect, blowing everything out of focus, but we barely get part of one toastie in focus.

The strawberry/brioche picture at the top of this page was taken with the 50mm lens, but set at f/2.8.  It give plenty of focus isolation - more than you really need in this example, but it isn't self-conscious about trying to blur everything else out.  So if I had to do it over again, focusing on food as my primary subjects, I'd get that 60mm f/2.8 lens... sad that it's a $600 chunk of glass that's bigger, heavier and 'slower' than the 50mm for other things.  Ah, Nikon, how you hurt me.  Canon also has an excellent 60mm f/2.8 lens for ~$400.  If you're open to third party lenses, it appears Tamron has an excellent lens in this range as well.  Their 60mm f/2.0 is less than $500.

Another good option for foodies on a budget would be the new

Nikon 40mm f/2.8.  It's a more recent design for APS-C sized-sensor cameras.  It has a little wider perspective than those I've been discussing.  So it will more naturally frame a place setting rather than a berry, but it's a Nikon micro (macro) lens, so while it might be a little physically awkward, you have the option to get right up close to that berry (3cm from the lens!) to fill the frame with it.  Helps that it's relatively inexpensive too, at ~$275.

So that's a lot of lens talk.  Let's assume you just want to shoot food.  If you're into Canon equipment, that 60mm f/2.8 looks great.  For Nikon shooters, same thing goes, their 60mm f/2.8 is superb.  Want something less expensive?  That 40mm f/2.8 would be a great starting point along with the cheapest APS-C size DSLR I could find.  In Nikon talk, that's currently the D3100.  For Canon shooters, it's probably the T2i.  

I'm not talking numbers for full-frame (35mm sensor) cameras, or smaller-sensor compacts.  They all require math to give you equivalent perspectives, angle of view and depth-of-field (they're not the same).  But in brief, the bigger the sensor, the more narrow a slice of depth-of-field you can create (these are those $2K cameras).  The smaller the sensor, the harder it becomes to control depth-of-field (but the smaller and cheaper the cameras can be).

Reminder though. The picture is composed by the human. Okay, there is that

cat-cam, but I don't know too many feline food photographers getting their work published.   The reminder is that there are great food shots taken by iPhones.  Often quoted (credit Chase Jarvis), "The best camera is the one you have with you."  So until my wallet gets significantly thicker, I'll be happily shooting along with my D60 and 50mm f/1.4 lens.

Lightness of Being

It’s golden hour – that perfect moment in time right before sunset when all glows with a most spectacular spectrum of sparkling hues. Tom and I are at Matador Beach in Malibu. It is a place we treasure. There we feel at one with nature and our humanity. We lay on the sand quietly camera and iPad in hand waiting for the right shot of ocean and sky, fruit and sand, and chiaroscuro for our “Still Life With Rocky Landscape”. It is our tribute to Giorgio De Chirico’s eponymous painting from 1942. His rocky landscape was the Mediterranean. Ours – the majestic Southern California coastline.  Worlds apart, yet somehow they become one as the waves crash around us nearly washing away our composition. The orange sun sinks into the ocean. We walk hand in hand in its afterglow happy to be alive.

Apples Are Not Oranges

This was my most ambitious art recreation yet and it proved to be the most challenging. There were many times during these last two months that it took me to compose it that I wanted to abandon this piece altogether. When I set out to find all the props I needed to create this photo composite tribute to Magritte’s “The Son of Man” painting, I had no idea how difficult it would be to find all of them.

I already owned the bowler hat – a perennial Halloween costume fave. I had the perfect model with an elegant wardrobe – Tom! Southern California skies are always blue. Check! Green apples are always in season. Check! Or so I thought… Apples might be “always” in season, but to find apple leaves in Los Angeles was practically impossible. I started out at local grocery stores. The produce vendors just laughed at me when I asked for apples with leaves. Who in the world wants leaves these days? I trolled the local Farmers Markets next. Asked farmers to bring me leaves when they pick the apples. Offered them cash for a single branch with leaves. They promised they would and I returned again and again to find that they had forgotten all about me. Finally, one farmer did bring me an apple branch, but it was dried and crumpled. He then offered me orange branches instead. “These look just like apple leaves”, he said. I nearly gave up at that point.

And then I had a revelation! Last year I volunteered at the Tree People Foundation in the nursery grafting and replanting fruit trees for local neighborhoods. Could there be some apple trees there? Clinging to this last hope, I emailed the nursery supervisor. He was a great help. It turned out there were indeed six baby apple trees waiting be replanted at the Grant High School in Valley Village. I was overjoyed! I finally had my last prop.

Tom shot the four images I needed for my photo composite separately in the next few days – a self-portrait in a bowler hat and red tie against a white background, a blue sky with wispy clouds, a perfect Grannysmith apple, and the oh-so-coveted branch with apple leaves. And then via the magic that is Photoshop I masked, layered and color balanced to create my homage to René Magritte, an artist who has been my idol for many years. Similar to my own path, his was to first design posters for print advertising. He then brought that creative sensibility to his Surrealist masterpieces.

For many years I had designed movie posters. A successful print advertising campaign entices the audience to want to see the film by telling only a part of the story in the key art. What is hidden is often more important than what’s visible. And so thought Magritte when creating his art. To quote him on “The Son of Man” painting, pictured below: “There is an interest in that which is hidden and which the visible does not show us. This interest can take the form of a quite intense feeling, a sort of conflict, one might say, between the visible that is hidden and the visible that is present.”

Dryad

Deep in the forest she dreams of rain. 

She hears the children coming.

They laugh while walking down the winding trail.

She shakes her head, and her long hair stirs the wind.

They hear her.

They feel her breath.

That breath is air.

The air is life.

She smiles and shakes her head again.

Black walnuts fall before their feet.

“We need your help,“ she says. “My tree needs chocolate to survive. We must get it before it starts to rain.”

“Who are you? “ they ask.

“I am Dryad, this tree’s soul mate. If he dies, so shall I.”

“Well, you’re fine then! We have some chocolate bars right here!”

“It is not your kind of chocolate that will save us. It is something you must help me make.”

“How?”

“It is made from my hair. Cut each strand in three places gently. Be careful not to break it.”

“But it’s so long and beautiful. Won’t you miss it?”

“The tree and I are a part of each other. Our lives are intertwined. From a small acorn, to a young sprout, to a mighty oak – every tree has a dryad that lives inside it. While he sleeps, she keeps guard and watches over him.  They are best friends.”

The children sadly cut her dark locks, as she sighs.

“Now chop them into small pieces and crush them. That is mulch.”

The children prune and chop very carefully making dark rich mulch to feed the tree.

“Mulch is like chocolate for trees.”

The children place the mulch at the base of the tree in a circle, being careful not to cover the roots.

“We are ready for rain and are eternally grateful. Thank you!”

The wind begins to whisper in their ears.

Jewel-like raindrops fall one by one, soon becoming a gentle spring shower.

The tree reaches his branches out to Dryad.

She throws her arms around him.

They hug happily, as they drink in the rainfall.

Revived, the tree springs back to life!

Green leaves appear on the branches.

Flower buds blossom.

Dryad’s hair starts to swirl like ribbons and grows back, long and beautiful just as before.

Joy fills the children’s hearts.

“You saved us and we’ll never forget it,” says Dryad. “Come back if there is anything you need. We will give you air, food and shelter for the rest of your lives.” 

Dryad © 2010 Yelena Burnett. All Rights Reserved.

Pear

I too needed to take a bite. And boy, did I have fun doing it! I practiced on two stand-ins while Tom tried several lenses and lighting set-ups on our hero subject. I used my front teeth, my canines and my molars. We were both laughing hysterically.

Behold, my perfect bite! I think Botero would have laughed with us.

Art That Brings Me Joy

Fernando Botero makes me laugh! Tom and I recently viewed a Botero exhibit at the Bowers Museum of Cultural Art in Santa Ana. It was pure joy! I had seen most of those paintings and sculptures of the comically plump human figures in the past. It was the still life paintings that surprised me. Generally, still life paintings throughout history were done to create a sense of abundance and wealth in the home. They amplified a festive mood with extra food and drink. The items portrayed were perfectly ripened and prepared. They were appetizing and enticing. So imagine my surprise when I saw the Botero still life paintings! Not only were they disproportionate and exaggerated, but they were also damaged. His gargantuan fruit and vegetables were rotting and surrounded by flies. Hilariously ironic!

My favorite of these is this “Pear”.  At first glace, it glows golden and voluptuous inviting me to taste it… I then notice that someone else has already tasted it! Some mysterious creature had bitten into it and vanished without a trace. And there’s more! There seems to be a tiny worm living inside it. He is burrowing corridors, making windows and redecorating the pear’s interior as if it were a new condo. This makes me giggle with delight!