The last supper {before adoptive parenthood}

March 16, 2017 by Beth Shepherd

Flavors filled my mouth as I tucked the amuse-bouche between my lips, and thoughts of parenthood filled my head. March 15, 2012. Our last supper. The final time we’d share dinner—just the two of us—without a child somewhere in the picture. Here we were, in London, dining at an impossibly elegant Indian restaurant with white linens covering our table, fine wine chilling in a silver ice bucket. Everyone around us was behaving in a very civilized manner, this being an upscale London restaurant after all, and no children as far as my eyes I could see. I couldn’t help but wonder. Would we ever enjoy an meal like this again?

Without a doubt, becoming a parent is one of life’s biggest game-changers. There are countless ways in which one’s life will be irrevocably altered. For us, in a mere 12 hours we’d board a plane bound for Armenia. And parenthood. I can’t tell you how much my mind mulled this fact over as I rolled each delicious morsel of food around in my mouth, listening to the clink of crystal wine glasses in the background accompanied by polite, subdued conversation.

What would it be like, sharing meals with an infant? A toddler? Would she be a picky eater? Enjoy the vegetables I lovingly grew in our tiny backyard garden? Food, whether cooked and served by my own hand or ordered at a restaurant was, for me, one of life’s greatest pleasures. At home, I spent a lot of time choosing which dishes we would eat and then cooking them. I found it exciting to explore new global cuisines. Reading about food, growing food, going out to eat, cooking at home…I loved it all!

Might my epicurean inclinations go the way of the dodo, along with private toilet time, gown-up music and Disney-free movies? What will become of my foodie self? Whenever I queried friends about what I should do B.P. (before parenthood), their advice was nearly universal. Watch movies—in—a movie theater! Go—out—for dinner at fancy restaurants! As we dined I was consumed by ruminations such as these, weighty as each of the five impeccably arranged courses laid out before us.

It’s all about the journey,

Beth

The promise of mushroom-barley soup

December 20, 2016 by Beth Shepherd

Eight years ago today, my friend Dee passed away. We’d been friends for 44 years when she died. She is the only person in my life whose friendship spanned so many decades, the only friend who knew me from when I was a grade-schooler through when I was an adult. She knew me when my sister got cancer, when my father had a stroke. We were roommates in college and she saw me through many unhappy relationships and, thankfully, lived long enough to see me finally land in a happy one. Even though we lived on opposite sides of the country, she knew me intimately, what I struggled with, what I loved. I think about this—and her—a lot.

Even though we grew up across the street from each other, our families couldn’t have been more different. Her family was Catholic, mine was Jewish. I had one sibling and she had ten. I will never forget sitting on my front lawn, at age six, watching as one bed after another and yet another was moved into their house. Her parents ran a tight ship, which came as no surprise given her father’s naval background and the necessity with so many children living under one roof. They had chores with rotating schedules, someone always on tap to do the dishes or rake the leaves. My house was loosey-goosey. It’s not that I wasn’t expected to do my share, but I had much more freedom. When we were grown-up, she told me that she always felt envious of all the free time I enjoyed.

From my side of the street, I was envious of the camaraderie. She always had someone to play with, someone to talk to. When my sister got cancer and my dad had a stroke, I was only 12-years-old. I remember going to her house, especially during the holidays, and there was so much going on, so much noise and laughter, so much jostling and joshing, unlike my house where I had to be careful and quiet—half my family was sick, or just find a way to entertain myself. Our formative experiences were the polar opposite.

Which is why—looking back—I am always amazed that as adults, we hit it off so well. We had similar sensibilities and values. We both loved thrift stores, yard sales, and free piles. We both felt refreshed by a walk in the woods, and inspired by a good book. And we both loved to cook.

Of all the food we cooked together, Moosewood’s Mushroom Barley Soup became our signature dish. I can’t remember why. I’m not sure if we we made this recipe more than other Moosewood recipes (and we sure tried a lot of them), or if we liked it best, but over the years it became ours.

The last time I saw Dee, a year before she died, this is the soup she made when we visited her home near Boston. Of all Dee’s endearing traits (and there were many), one that stood out was her uncanny ability to pick just the right gift for those she loved, whether it was something for your birthday or Christmas or a special meal like this one. Her family members, her husband, and those of us lucky enough to have her as a close friend, were all the recipients of her incredible graciousness and thoughtfulness.

I miss my friend. Hers was an irreplaceable friendship. So I keep making our soup. It reminds me of her, and of the beauty and fragility of life and friendship. When I take a sip, warmth fills my belly and my heart. The world feels a little closer. That’s the promise of mushroom-barley soup.

It’s all about the journey,

Beth

If you want to give the recipe a try, you can find it in a blog post I wrote in 2009: Mushroom Barley Soup for the Soul.

Go nuts at CB’s Nuts in Kingston, Washington

July 14, 2016 by Beth Shepherd

We huffed, puffed and pedaled for peanuts last weekend at CB’s Nuts in Kingston, Washington. In fact we pedaled so hard, for a moment, I thought I saw smoke bellowing out of the bike’s rear tire. Had that been the case, we were in the right place because CB’s Nuts is housed in an old fire station. But wait–that smell–it wasn’t smoke at after all. It was peanut butter!

CB’s Nuts started in a Field of Dreams “If you build it, they will come” sort of way, except Clark Bowen (the C.B. of CB’s Nuts) got his brilliant idea at a baseball game–he didn’t build a baseball field. Armed with a bag of fresh roasted peanuts he bought from a vendor on the way into a Mariners-Orioles baseball game in Baltimore, Clark realized how much the smell and flavor of peanuts said “baseball” to him, and how there was nothing like this in his hometown of Seattle. It wasn’t long before he pushing a small roaster near Safeco Field and selling warm peanuts with the goal of making enough to pay for tickets to the game and beer.

Time passed and Clark, now married to Tami, became increasingly interested in “old fashioned” roasting equipment and techniques. In fact making peanut butter with the nuts they roasted only started when they received a large shipment of peanuts that arrived sans shells, sort of a When life gives you peanuts, make peanut butter moment. CB’s Peanut Butter puts the A-1 into artisanal because there is only one ingredient in their peanut butter–peanuts. Yep, that’s it. Just really delicious, expertly roasted and ground peanuts.

Oh, and back to those pedal-powered peanuts. As it turned out, someone had hooked up the grinder backwards–no wonder we were making smoke and not peanut butter! But that didn’t stop us from picking up a jar to take home and tasting samples of fresh peanuts. CB’s Nuts, by the way, isn’t just about peanuts and peanut butter. You can find pumpkin seeds, pistachios, cashews and hazelnuts. So…you know, GO NUTS!

CB’s Nuts are sold at PCC Natural Markets, Whole Foods and a number of other retailers. But if you want to pedal for peanuts, head over to their retail store in Kingston at 6013 NE State Highway 104, just west of Kingston Ferry. A fun place to visit for kids–and adults–who like peanut butter. Although the main roasting operation is no longer at the fire station, a few batches of peanut butter are still made there using a 100-year-old roaster Clark restored (an Adam’s Peanut Butter’s original roaster from Tacoma in the 1920’s).

If you don’t feel quite ready to brave the Edmonds-Kingston ferry lines, you can sit a spell…on a section of the original Seattle Mariners dugout from the Kingdome days! Plus you can sit on it with a local microbrew from the cooler or an ice cream in your hands. And a bowl of peanuts, of course. If, after that, you’re feeling a bit more like a slug than a slugger, there’s always that bicycle. Just remember, you might want to work out at the gym for a few weeks first!

It’s all about the journey,

Beth

My favorite things: Armenian lavash

April 5, 2016 by Beth Shepherd

There’s lavash and then there’s Armenian lavash, I’ve tried several versions in the U.S. and they are a poor substitute for the real deal, more like a tortilla than true lavash. Armenian lavash is crisp and bubbled on top, soft and flaky in the middle. And Armenian lavash straight from the tonir (clay oven), is just this side of heaven. Four years ago, when we were on our court trip to adopt our daughter, we visited a restaurant in her hometown of Gyumri, called Cherkezi Dzor. There we saw lavash being made. And, we got got to try some just after it came out of the tonir. I will never forget how amazing that lavash tasted.

Armenian lavash

lavash cooking

lavash in tonir (clay oven)

cooked lavash

Armenian lavash

It’s all about the journey,

Beth

My blogger identity crisis

January 23, 2016 by Beth Shepherd

I’m wrestling with a blogger identity crisis. “Who am I?” and “What is my message?”

These questions weighed heavily on me as I created and launched my website. And I really struggled to choose a topic for this post, my first post about something other than “Welcome to my site.” My OWN WEBSITE. No pressure, right?

For me, blogging over the past seven years has been the perfect vehicle to package my love of writing, photography, food, travel, gardening, my family–little snippets of everything I hold dear. That said, I confess I feel envious of fellow bloggers who’ve defined their niche. They might be a professional photographer specializing in family photography, a travel blogger with a focus on solo travel for women, a mom blogger or a foodie blogger.

When friends ask me, “Have you considered becoming a professional photographer?” I’m not sure what to say because, yes, I think about that a lot, but as of yet haven’t taken steps to do anything about it. Others on my cheer squad have told me I have the skills to start a garden design business–should I want to. It is true I know a fair bit about plants and have a creative eye. I sure love to cook and there will be recipes on this site! And of course anyone who has–or will–read this blog knows I’m an adoptive mom to a little girl born in Armenia.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to toot my own horn (okay, maybe just a little), but what occurred to me as I wrote this post is that my blog is an extension of…well, me. And for now, that’s where Pampers and Paklava is at. At little bit of this and a little bit of that. Things and places and people I love.

I guess you could say this is my mid-life crisis blog. I’m figuring it out as I go along.

How about you? Have you ever tried to reinvent yourself?

It’s all about the journey,

Beth

Thank you to Weeone Photography for the fabulous family photos!

My oh my, it’s Shepherd’s Pie

January 5, 2016 by Beth Shepherd

No lightweights here in the Shepherd household. In one corner we have our 4-1/2-year-old daughter, who weighed in at 47 pounds.

In another our kitten Wallingford who, at only 9-months old, weighed in at 15 pounds.

The star–Shepherd’s Pie 2016–weighing in at a hefty 11 pounds of deliciousness.

And let’s not forget Winslow, who might have ended up in the Shepherd’s Pie but, thankfully did not.

Take the road less traveled, Beth

And if you want to read more about all things Pampers, follow me on Facebook, Twitter or RSS/email.

Seven year soup

December 20, 2015 by Beth Shepherd

When you’re down and troubled
And you need some love and care
And nothing, nothing is going right
Close your eyes and think of me
And soon I will be there
To brighten up even your darkest night

~Carol King, You’ve Got A Friend

I count myself lucky. I’ve had many wonderful friendships in my lifetime, but I was especially blessed to have had this one. One friend who knew me from the time I was a little girl until the time I was a grown and married woman. Forty-four years of friendship. Neighbors across the street when we were six and college housemates when we were twenty.

Housemates and friends. Me and Dee. Living together. Cooking together.

I still love to cook and I’m certain the roots of my passion go back to the days when Dee and I scoured the Moosewood Cookbook for recipes. The first edition was published in 1977, the year I graduated from high school. Moosewood was the seminal vegetarian cookbook. And–lucky us–since Moosewood Restaurant was just down the hill from the house we rented in Ithaca, NY.

As Cornell University undergraduates, we didn’t dine out very often and, when we did, it was a huge treat. Most of the time we cooked Moosewood recipes in our tiny kitchen on College Avenue. Spanakopita. Vegetable Stroganoff. Cauliflower Cheese Pie with grated Potato Crust. Countless simple, delicious recipes.

But the undeniable favorite, our signature dish if you will, was Mushroom Barley Soup. It was the first soup I ever shared with Dee and also the last. She made this soup for Joel and I, when we visited her home outside Boston, a year before she died from breast cancer.

On this day, for seven years now, I make this soup and remember her. Life may be short, but the memory of a good friend lives on.

Ain’t it good to know, you’ve got a friend.

Mushroom Barley Soup from the Moosewood Cookbook

Serves 8

Ingredients

1/2 cup uncooked pearl barley
3 tablespoons butter
1/2-1 teaspoon salt
3-4 tablespoons tamari or soy sauce
4 tablespoons dry sherry
6-1/2 cups stock or water
1 medium onion, chopped
2 medium cloves garlic, minced
1 lb fresh mushrooms, sliced
fresh ground black pepper

Preparation

Cook barley in 1-1/2 cups of the stock or water in a large saucepan or Dutch oven. Bring to a boil, cover and simmer until barley is tender (20-30 minutes). Add remaining stock or water, tamari and sherry.
Meanwhile, melt the butter in a skillet. Add the onions and garlic. Sauté for about 5 minutes over medium heat. Add mushrooms, and salt. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until everything is very tender (about 10-12 minutes).
Add the sauté with all its liquid to the cooked barley. Add fresh ground black pepper to taste and simmer, partially covered, for another 20 minutes.

Just like my friendship, the Moosewood Cookbook is over forty years old. Last fall, 2014, The Moosewood Cookbook: 40th Year Edition was published. I’ve read that some of the recipes have changed from the original 1977 edition. You can buy it here:

<br /> </iframe></p> <p style="text-align: left;">Take the road less traveled, Beth</p> <div>And if you want to read more about all things Pampers, follow me on <a title="Facebook Beth" href="https://www.facebook.com/beth.shepherd.5" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a title="Twitter Pampers Pakhlava" href="https://twitter.com/PampersPakhlava" target="_blank">Twitter</a> or <a title="RSS Email" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/PampersAndPakhlava%20" target="_blank">RSS/email</a>.</div> <div></div> <p>

Nestle for Men: The manly chocolate bar

November 6, 2015 by Beth Shepherd

Big Papa may have felt left out of the Halloween festivities, because today he hauled out his very last ‘Nestle for Men‘ bar. Yep. For men.

We purchased this bar some time (years) ago in Armenia, because…well, you never know when a guy might need a manly boost.

The Nestle company launched the bar in 2005 for its Russian market. This is a big bar of chocolate, thick, rectangular, and divided into large pieces, “which will not be lost on a man’s palm” (as you can see in this photo).

I don’t read Russian, but our Armenian translator at the time, said something to the suggest this chocolate is “untouchable man’s property.” Protect from women was the product’s slogan.

Here are the ingredients in Russian and in Armenian. Taste-testers, Big Papa included, suggest that “big” flavor does not go hand-in-hand with this hefty bar. But hey, how many guys in the U.S. get to take a bite out of a bar like this one?

There was also an advertising campaign to go along with the bar and I recently found this Youtube video. No comment on stereotyping women as sub-par drivers.

And thanks for being my spokesmodel Big Papa!

Take the road less traveled, Beth

And if you want to read more about all things Pampers, follow me on Facebook, Twitter or RSS/email.

A gift from Gyumri: Armenian fruit leather

October 2, 2015 by Beth Shepherd

A package arrived from Armenia this week. Inside were several special gifts including Armenian fruit leather. There is nothing more delicious (in my admittedly biased opinion) than homemade–IN ARMENIA–fruit leather.

The fruit leather from Gyumri, where my daughter was born, has a certain something that makes it so good, you want to wrap yourself up in it. And you could. The piece I received measured in at a mere 13-inches square. I remember buying a piece during one of our visits that was literally as big as a baby blanket.

Of course, looks aren’t everything…the proof is in the pudding. Or fruit leather. So we brought in our little Armenian for a taste.

Where is the fruit leather from?

The sniff test.

Checking color and clarity…just like wine tasting!

The taste test.

The full report.

Dada, where is Armenia again and how far is it from Seattle?

Yes, this fruit leather came from very far away.

On the other side of the world from where we live.

And if you want to read more about all things Pampers, follow me on Facebook, Twitter or RSS/email.

Take the road less traveled, Beth

The Great Zucchini Races of 2015

August 27, 2015 by Beth Shepherd

This past Saturday, Miss Lellow Submarine was pitted against many fine souped-up “cars” in the Great Zucchini Races of 2015. Now in it’s second year, the Great Zucchini Races are an annual event (I hope!) in Seattle’s Central District neighborhood.

Little Bird and I went to pick out our zucchini at our Friday Farmers Market. Where else can you get a giant zucchini for only $1?

Money was exchanged and we took our squash home. Only 24 hours before the big event.

Saturday, August 22. We walked a few streets down from where we live to join in the festivities. People were gluing, embellishing, and gussying up their squashes like nobody’s business. The creativity I saw was awe inspiring!

And the people–lots of people, neighbors all, playing, eating, and prettifying their zucchinis in anticipation of the BIG RACE.

Our entry? Miss Lellow Submarine (yes, LELLOW). Isn’t she simply gorgeous?

We placed her on the table, heavily laden, with many delightfully decorated squashes.

Apparently, the judges thought she was–all that–because she was awarded the Most Glamorous Squash award (shhhhh…each and every contestant won a prize). How cool is that?