Zsa Zsa had patriotically painted her toes and her fingers for the holiday,

and with her brother Roman, sister Madeline, and her mom (my friend Margaret), we all watched the parade at Wilder Ranch yesterday at high noon.

The park was outfitted for the year 1910 for “an old-fashioned Fourth of July” celebration,

and Suffragettes marched with banners,

and signs and chants, demanding their right to vote,

and drummers and little red wagons marched close after—I think this woman below turned an actual flag into a tunic, and I salute her literal interpretation of the day’s dress.

One small DFW-ish note: The Wilder Family houses in the park are preserved to how they may have looked around the turn of the twentieth century, but it’s unclear to me why the celebration is fixed in the year 1910. My personal theory is that the docents are really into dressing up like Suffragettes, and I can support that.

Exchanging 2010 money into 1910 currency, we bought popcorn first,

and threaded our way past the decorated bikes and lawn chairs,

as everyone gathered for the addresses:

the flag raised to “The Star-Spangled Banner,” a stirring oration, and the reading of the Declaration of Independence by Bill Fitzgerald.

Margaret’s children disappeared into the giant plant (that eventually returned them),

and we visited the animals grazing, the chickens,

and deferred the wagon rides until later—

since the dust the wagons picked up was no match for Roman anyway,

who raced around the picnic blanket with a streamer like a torch,

while Margaret and Zsa Zsa were examining the palm leaf plates (verdict: we like them).

It’s wonderful to be able to make food for children without worrying about toning down flavors or that they won’t eat healthy foods (excellent parenting by Margaret and Rudolph), and we all ate salad with a balsamic dressing, bocconcini, and peaches along with snap peas, edamame, and chevre. The girls are vegetarians; Margaret and I tore prosciutto over ours.

And a pesto pasta with tomatoes and summer squash kept all afternoon as we played lawn games and wandered the property.

Madeline helped Roman with his spinner, as big sisters do,

and he sat still for just a moment,

very like the conductor leading the musicians in the Society Orchestra yards away from our picnic.

Later, it was hard to tell which side would win the Tug of War,

and I looked at the utensils in the Wilder Ranch kitchen, thinking about vintage kitchen tools.

Shortly before a round of the Cake Walk, Margaret modeled the family’s new bonnet,

as the docent explained the history of the tradition and the numbered tags were sorted out.

The family that cakewalks together…

(To Margaret’s mom: Hello! These two are especially for you.)

And the poised Madeline struck a pose as the music ended; soon we were off to the next event of the day, the destination for the second batch of pesto pasta:

a barbecue at Nadine and Jason’s lovely house, where the sun shone brightly on the back patio.

With a table full of good side dishes, I knew immediately that these guests took food as seriously as our hosts,

who were utilizing all the shelves for different meats in their new smoker (Nadine is separating the excellent ribs here—she’s fabulous, and you’ll likely see her again on this blog).

I believe these are the tomatoes with burrata (others had mozzarella) that I returned to, sipping a limoncello margarita,

and Mike arrived with homemade potstickers filled with pork and crunchy bean sprouts,

before a wealth of desserts appeared: mascarpone cheese with fruit in a balsamic sauce near Nadine’s chocolate Guinness ice cream that went very quickly,

and everyone had the peach ice cream with big chunks of peaches, another perfect dessert for the day,

before the bread pudding with cherries and whipped cream appeared on the counter.

It was a big, merry crowd for this party that was also the housewarming no one wanted to leave, and by the time I left with the Rosas family, it was almost dark enough for the fireworks.

In the most exciting display I’ve experienced in recent years, soaring hisses and snaps crackled from all directions as we watched the big color explosions from the beach—many immediately overhead, some lit just meters behind us, others set off across the water—all a surprise in a cacophony that continued into the night.

Such a colorful day full of small, funny moments with one of my favorite families (and part of my Santa Cruz family)…

More images in the Flickr set.

Related posts:

1. artichokes, breaded and trimmed
2. you are awesome and beautiful
3. pppsst: spsp (summer pesto squash pasta)

Reid climbs in his spare time, so he likes hanging off of cliffs with his fingernails, but now I know he will also brave a foot of snow to pick up his girlfriend’s sister (thank you, Reid) at the airport.

Here’s our ride back on Tuesday morning on our way to Paradox Cafe (where friendly little stuffed monsters are suspended from the ceiling):

The Great Portland Snowpocalypse continued all week, as residents found actual reasons to put snow gear into service, dragging children to grocery stores in plastic sleds, skiing across intersections:

After exploring many of the great neighborhood markets and the wonderful chocolate shop where Kat works, Cacao (you need the spicy hot chocolate drink in your life, trust me), the three of us began the serious fun of holiday cooking. Reid prepped, made a soup, and cooked beets on Christmas Eve:

Then, we were off to wander downtown and end up drinking housemade moonshine at Urban Farmer, leading to some rather strange dreams.

And waking up yesterday morning, we made mimosas and clowned in our socks while fresh snow came down outside,

took the tomatoes I’d brought from sunny Miami out of my hat,

started with eggs and potatoes,

continued with croissant pudding (and more mimosas)—

we couldn’t wait for it to cool.

We spun cream into homemade butter; Kat chopped apples that we reduced into applesauce;

and Christmas latkes went nicely with roasted brussel sprouts while we debated what to put in the fresh pasta.

Roasted cauliflower might go into the latkes next time, but I find it too beautiful to hide it in shaggy potato threads for now.

The pasta with mushrooms and tomatoes (added at the last minute) fueled our race across the street to the car clear enough to back out and drive to the airport to pick up my sister Kassandra, who flew in from Atlanta and will be dancing in Portland all this week.

We danced in the elevator on the way up, laughing as we referenced obscure old movies we watched growing up and opened the presents my parents sent in Kassandra’s enormous bag.

As I type this in a coffee shop near San Francisco, I’m still smelling the bananas, cinnamon, and walnuts from earlier today, as Reid flipped French toast for his feat of the morning.

We all lingered around the table, not wanting to leave the breakfast or the small assembly of chairs where we sat next to each other, talking about plans for the new year—here’s to new family traditions and embracing inclement weather…

Related posts:

1. the great snowpocalypse of charlottesville
2. remixing the mainstream
3. victorious community gardens

Recipe: (for 2 as a side, multiply as necessary) Peel one large russet potato, grate with microplane into bowl. Pour off juice. Finely dice 1/2 small onion, add to bowl. Stir in one tablespoon of flour, one egg. Heat 4 tablespoons of olive oil until shimmering in pan over med-high heat. Add batter and spread thinly; brown each side (~3 min/side). Rest very briefly on paper towels, then plate, sprinkle with salt, top with sour cream or applesauce. These are best made in batches for friends that have become family in a boisterous kitchen.

reading recommendation: Organic Furniture Cellar, Jessica Smith

listening recommendation: “The Chanukah Song” series, Adam Sandler

latke wallpaper on Flickr

drink pairing: raw mlik or a plummy red wine

salt recommendation: Hawaiian red

Latkes? Raggmunk? How do you like your potato pancakes?

Related posts:

1. kthread cooks: saucy apples
2. kthread cooks: aligot
3. kthread cooks: umami miami