Stuffed Grape Leaves: My Nemesis

For some reason, I'm not sure why, it seems that the market is saturated with Thai food (which I already hated, before I lived here) in our area of Maine, with not many other interesting ethnic options. Why not Indian? Or Ethiopian? How about Greek?

Well, I was absolutely hankering for something vaguely mediterranean or possibly middle eastern, with maybe a side order of Indian naan bread. Last week I made falafel with a yummy cucumber-tahini-scallion sauce, served in a sort of Indian naan bread (fried in my skillet). Oh and stuffed grape leaves sounded great. (It was all because of a really pretty colorful spread in the Moosewood Cookbook.)

Let me tell you about grape leaves. They come in a jar, all rolled up in a sort of cigar-like bundle, in a little briny water. The thing that seemed impossible is that the jar offered absolutely no guidance in the form of directions on how to unroll the bundle with grace. Because the bundle was sort of tucked under on one end, and the leaves were very thin, I found it nearly impossible to unroll the individuals without shredding them.

shreddy grape leaves

I'm a patient person. I can unravel a knotty skein of wool. I can do tedious, repetitive tasks with good cheer. But this was a new and altogether maddening form of tedium. So in the end, I had a few unmolested and unshreddy leaves of grape, ready for stuffing, and a really delicious lemony-minty pot of brown rice. So I stuffed the few leaves that I had and then served the rice as a side dish, with shreddy grape leaves to be mixed in as the eater desired. Despite the ugly appearance of the shredders, the meal was embraced as a success by all eaters. My boys like falafel, a lot!!!! (In my day, when my mom made it, we called it "Feel Awful.")

Sylvan was bored one day, so I suggested he go outside and build a bike jump. First he had to bring his CD player outside, find an extension cord, and get his music cued up (Bruce Springsteen). Then he built the bike jump and used it while rocking out to classic rock.

Bikes and Books

Feet on the pedals, no training wheels.

Yes, we have a new biker in the house. Remember my boy just turned 6 and was given a brand-new bike for his birthday by two of his Bumpas? Well, on Friday he started riding the Jet 16 with no training wheels. Just like that.

So here is a movie of one of Sylvan's first rides (try to ignore the cluttered yard in the background):

Bigger boy, bigger feet. Two bikes, two boys.


It was BookLovers' Cafe yesterday at Rockport Public Library. It's a program that I started at the library as a place for folks to come and be able to talk about the books they have been enjoying. Because so often, when you read a good book you want to tell the world about it! So I bake muffins and scones, we have tea and coffee, and we talk about whatever book is wonderful. While folks talk, I take notes and write them up; people talk about everything from Great Works of Literature to light mysteries to nonfiction and even audiobooks. And nobody passes any judgment on your choices either! The notes are posted on the web at the earlier link.

Yesterday I talked about Once Upon a Tart, my new favorite cookbook: full of great writing and tips and sidebars, written by two guys who have a cafe by the same name in SoHo. The treats in the picture above come from that book: Lemon Poppyseed Muffins and Honey Cornmeal Scones. And I brought in my copy of Collect Raindrops by Nikki McClure, which you first read about in this post. Because I just can't help myself from spreading the Good News about her work.