It's been quite a spring here in The 'Kan EWA. We had a full blown Indian Winter--is there such a thing? with snow this morning even. Some of the ski resorts are only closing now. I wear my black Burberry to work still. So with such a later winter imagine my surprise to see the roses start to bloom. I do not ever remember roses blooming the first week in June but as you can see here Climbing Shot Silk is definitely doing just that. Annnnd Dreamweaver is now in bloom, too. Amazing! I'm assuming the record moisture has contributed to the unfolding faces of the pink roses at Bellemaison.

What is right on time and lighting up the joint are the rhododendrons. My people are no slouches when it comes to growing rhododendrons, read that Bula T and Marc T, but I think I am holding my own and will merit at least an honorable mention when the family All Star Rhodendron Growers List comes out. Judge for yourself and don't forget to ooooohhh and aaaaah loud enough for me to hear you.

Lots and lots of trash talk about ME not showing up at a certain house across the stateline. Wow. Wow. Wow. Infamous, indeed. Not only do I have pictures of the numerous times I've stopped at this certain house and no one has been there to greet me but I have witnesses, too, as I don't travel solo bearing my own gifts. I'm not the only one who has missed out on treasures. As for me not using a stick when I walk, how could anybody know that about me that doesn't know me? Or hasn't made an effort to get to know me? I expect to be stunned and offended each and every day in life but not at 10th and Mountain in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho.

As for the stick, that particular one has been troubling in a sense, as originally it was supposed to be for JBelle, but she has never shown up and I mentioned once on her blog that if she didn't this last time, it was to go to the Stick Lady, as she is called atound here. She is 9, and has been coming here since she was 5 or so. She left yesterday for good, as her and her family are moving. The stick is in good hands, she will have it forever. As for the infamous JBelle, I may begin work on a new one, maybe this time I may run in to her at the next blogfest, but I doubt it. For some reason, I don't think she uses a walking stick much, so I don't feel so bad.

I just threw four dozen cookies laced with expensive ingredients and lovingly concocted and baked in the kitchens at Bellemaison in the garbage. I attempted to deliver them on Friday, making yet another trip in friendship and solidarity. To no avail. And I completely understand. People aren't always at my beck and call and don't exist on my terms. But for the record, my real friends don't judge me, measure me to their standards and conduct performance reviews of me over the internet. And I am lucky, because although I haven't lived in Coeur d'Alene for many, many years, I still have many, many friends and dozens and dozens of stops to make in my old hometown.

So to you, all my old and real friends, cookies, vodka and visits for all! Thank you for being my real friends and thanks for ALL the memories.


JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

JBelle's Top Picks for Summer

Inspired by Lindsey Long Legs, over at... Lindsey Long Legs, I decided to compile JBelle's Top Picks for the summer, as I know you are all waiting and hoping for a little direction. And trying to make plans! Make plans! And I'm holding you up! eeek! The Chows had a hard time sorting everything out because there are sooo many top picks, not enough summer. This is how it is here in The Kan EWA. Anyway, with no further ado, here is where JBelle lives and breathes in the summertime, when the livin' is easy.


Coeur d'Alene
There is no where I would rather be than Coeur d'Alene, anytime of the year. But in the summer it is so special there, so special that it transcends any attempt at definition so I can only say for me Coeur d'Alene is a Valhalla, the Coeur d'Belle. Get on I-90 and get off at the Sherman Ave exit. Drag the strip all the way to the college and loop around the dyke road and park back at Memorial Field. Pick up some coffee from the stand across the street and walk through the park down to West Lakshore Drive and sit on the seawall. Sip your coffee and savor Tubb's Hill, Casco Bay, Kidd Island Bay, looking down the lake as far as you can. There is no place, no where, nothing that is closer to God than this moment of contemplation on the north shore of Lake Coeur d'Alene. This is a very pricey experience, a priceless moment that won't cost you a thing but it is best enjoyed with an open heart and a grateful spirit. Peace be with you.


Biking
Well, now that you've had your spiritual moment in the sun, having been to The Church of The Seawall, get your bike and head to the reservation. The Coeur d'Alene Indian Reservation. Go to Plummer where the trailhead for The Trail of the Coeur d'Alenes is located. You're starting to see a theme here, right? Get on the trail and ride your bike to Wallace. It's about 120 miles up and back. This ride has it all: relentless hills, beautiful flat stretches through wetlands, thrilling railroad bridges high across the lake, even an historic Jesuit Mission. You will see deer, moose, birds, fish, butterflies, dragonflies, cottonwoods, white pine, apple, peach and cherry trees. It is a compendium of life, this Trail of the Coeur d'Alenes. Don't miss it. This is the kind of thing that they'd love to charge for because its so valuable but sadly, they just can't put a price on an experience as this. This is quintessential Idaho.


Oakleys
Do NOT be without your Oakleys. You can get them anywhere. I've worn mine on the Champs d'Elysee, the Ho Chi Minh Trail, at Red Square and the Vatican as well as the Canadian Continental Divide where they were equally chic yet durable and utilitarian. I can ditch the bike as I do sometimes and don the Hermes as I do sometimes wearing Oakleys either time and it's same/same. After eye surgery almost ten years ago, I became uber-light sensitive and Oakleys filter out all the glare and bad light that hurts my eyes and makes my head ache. Just don't be without Oakleys. Don't do it. Pricey at about $175 but they last. I've got five year old Oakleys.


Hot Green Our Lady of Guadalupe Bag
Got Our Lady in Puerto Vallarta. Thing is, white women, particularly the Protestants, think I'm outta my mind carrying this bag. Hispanics, both men and women, give me a quick solemn nod and breathe in "jes". I think Our Lady is fabulous and lights up hot times in the city. Back of my neck ain't gettin' dirty and gritty. Absolutely don't remember anything about a price.

Mother of Pearl and Silver Jewelry
Got both the earrings and the cross in Puerto Vallarta. Paid way too much but it all boiled down to this: I liked them. So I bought them. That's it, friends. There are no complicated arguments and scenarios in life; if you like it BUY IT. Forget the price. See above.



Aveda Inner Light Tinted Moisturizer SPF 15
Well, my heavens. Just how could you have summer without this marvelous little product? Moisturizer and sun screen with a hint of color to even out the freckles and dark circles. This stuff is divine. Go to your nearest Aveda store and get some now. What's the downside? Better state the obvious: there is none. Moderate, about $25.



Aveda Lip Gloss
It smells heavenly and moisturizes as well as protects from too bright sun. And you don't have to transfer money from your line of credit to your checking account when you buy one. I don't go anywhere without it. Cheeeeep. $15.




Nordstrom Capris
Okay, here's the deal. these things fit. They are cotton/spandex so they launder at home but hold their shape nicely. They come in at least black, white, navy, taupe, and olive, pack beautifully and wash out in the sink if need be. One of the few wise buying decisions Nordstrom has made lately. Not spendy. About $60.



Jump Shoes
Happened on Jump in Soho a couple a weeks ago after lunch at Balthazar and after Bloomingdale's but before Chanel. LOVE JUMP! They're Asian and the shoes are inspired, fun and really comfortable. I have worn them all day several times and they were perfect. Brand new, too. Amazing shoes. Cute. Not that spendy. About $80.



Black iPod
Well, how can you be properly stimulated, mooded and otherwise ready to go for any given summer situation without your iPod? I have several. Currently, I use my nano for specific tasks only and for the big jobs I go with my BonoNanno. It's not really a nanno, I just call it that. It plays videos and I load it with my photos. It also has some 5000 songs on it at the moment. One of these times, I am going to listen to them all. In order. Spendy. About $400?

So there it is. Live it up. Be happy. Call it all joy. We only pass this way once.

JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

Graduation Wrap-Up

I know it would be uncomfortable for everyone if I didn't issue a few opinions about a few things that are au courant in New York at the moment. Or at least, kept seeing on a regular basis when I was there a week ago . Graduation -wise, by and large, the drunkest, profanest, most inappropriate people of the hour were...the girls. Yup. The girls. Just who are their mamas?


I'd like to know. Because didn't their mamas go into a few things with them, like for instance, how trivial and silly they look, walking up the aisle to strains of 'Pomp and Circumstance', talking on their cell phone?

Surely, the girls' mother told them, watch what you drink, dear. Party your heart out, but drink 8 oz of water between every cocktail and whatever you do, no matter how happy or upset you may be, just don't issue any profanities. Just don't you do it. Don't do it! Because no matter in what instance you issue them, you will be perceived as loud-mouthed and vulgar. You will. And they were. Filthiest drunkest mouths of the entire week were, heaven help us, the girls. They just don't make a handbag that will cover for that sort of thing, either.


Also, I'd like to meet the mamas to ask what counsel and advice they gave to their daughters that resulted in them putting on cleavage-bearing, ass-grabbing dresses for mass and for commencement? Graduation is not dancing and prowling/trolling in Soho or Alphabet City. It's a professional, joyous event, where believe it or not, employment prospects and career green lights abound. I know what the prospects and green lights were thinking of the girls who showed up looking like The Paris Hilton Faithful, because I was thinking it myself. But I digress. Who are these girls' mamas? And have they been on vacation for the last 10 years?



And further, what would make anyone think an invitation from the Dean of the College of Business Administration to the annual Business School awards ceremony is really a cocktail party and that a cocktail dress is just the thing to strap on? Oh my. So, so, wrong on so many levels. But if we disagree, dear, consider this: what was the Dean wearing? Did she have on a cocktail dress? See? She was wearing a lovely, dressy evening suit, complete with high neck and jacket, with subtle but elegant jewelry. Gosh, maybe in part, that's how she got to be the Dean: she knows what to wear to reassure everyone that she knows exactly where she is at the moment. Apparently, no small task. Lord have mercy.


And what of the shoes? If you are going to be walking across a raised platform of any kind, with thousands of people watching you, why not wear shoes that are easy and graceful to walk in and that you can handle with ease? What's the good of putting an entire auditorium in suspense over whether you'll face plant or graduate first? Who ARE these girls' mothers?
Sadly, I have to give the girls of CBA even further discount because the leadership in CBA, by and large, is women! Classy, bright, tough women run the shop at CBA so if in doubt, all you'd have to do is look around and note what the Deans wear and then adjust up or down. And by the way, you think that when the lights go off Dean Donna Rapaccioli is not capable of expressing her full feminine self? Picture taken after the ceremonies, on the way to the parties. Enough said. Sigh. Having asked where the mothers are, I guess it's only fair to note that I saw them, too. Here and here


and here.









I guess that is quite enough said. oh wait! one more thing: what or who in the world would convince you to collect your diploma onstage and then go back to your seat, THEN exit the ceremony early? Are you thinking no one saw you? And more importantly, which faculty member will be willing to write a recommendation for you, if you can't even sit all the way through the ceremony and go out with your class?

Just asking. And please tell your mother I need to catch up with her to go over a few things.






JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

Many of you have written and called in saying, JBelle! JBelle! Just who are these spoiled, onery children you speak of so often?

Well, folks, I'll tell you. These are they. I am rich, rich, rich.

JBelle

Bellemaison

The 'Kan EWA

Words escape me as I try to capture the essence of our Commencement Celebration in New York last week. The week passed super fast, yet in slow motion much of the time as certain images forever imprinted themselves on the fleshy tablets of my brain. There were so many deliciously special moments but this morning I am remembering moments that will always haunt me; haunt me in a good way; alchemize me and take me to the place that is the holiest of the holies.

The Pup captured a picture of the Christ Child as he turned into the long aisle up to the steps of Keating Hall that stopped and restarted my heart instantly: it was that little boy smile of his, long lost in the acquired vocabulary of smiles we all construct as we learn to successfully pose for pictures. The little boy smile reflexively reappeared after a long, long absence.

The Christ Child said that as the stage cleared, he looked up and all that was there were the two deans, with diploma in hand, smiling broadly and waiting for him. His named was announced and he went up the steps, crossed the stage , went back down another set of steps into a new reality, leaving the deans who have been so good to him behind.

I remember walking through the glow of the dimly lit Metropolitan Museum, the statuary all smiling and happy, after the after-hours party in honor of the Christ Child.

I remember Mike The Bike Stud's stirring and beautiful toasts.

I remember Brian's dad kissing him soundly on the forehead, in unspeakable love and devotion, after Brian gave the welcome at Baccalaureate Mass.

I remember the rain, dear God, how did they get the Oregon rain in New York for Baccalaureate Mass?

I remember the sun; swear to God, it was like Santa Monica in the Bronx as 'Pomp and Circumstance' played and the seniors marched up the aisle and marched back down as graduates.

I remember the hot dog in the gym at Fordham and the beer at Yankee Stadium; the roast chicken at Balthazar and the brunello and prosciutto on Arthur Avenue.

I remember the city streets each early morning and the tops of the newly leafed trees of Central Park, both silent in preparation of another day.

I remember looking around and seeing the faces, all the faces, of every one of the people I love the most.

I remember thinking, many times, I am rich, rich, rich.


JBelle
Bellemaison
The Kan 'EWA

So I wake up in the city that never sleeps early; early enough that everyone around me and everyone out the window is still sleeping. We are perched on the 20th floor of a beautiful post-Deco building that overlooks Central Park and the streets that fan out from the Park south. We are on Central Park South. This morning I remember and am grateful for all those times that I worked late, late, late early into the morning, meeting deadlines and commitments. I would work until 3 or 4 am in my office at home and then stumble leadenly down the hall to slip in bed for a few hours. We would all get up then and I would struggle through the morning routine and meet another set of deadlines, as the kids got into those Catholic School uniforms, thank God for Catholic School uniforms, and collected their gear and headed out to school. I remember it all clearly, but remember so few details. I remember it was really hard. But I don't remember much else; that tells me that I wasn't feeling a fair amount of what I was going through in order to get through. But I made it. Raised my children, buried my parents and collected stories, adventures and people along the way. I think of them all this morning and say a silent prayer of thank you. For helping me, for kindness to me, for love and encouragement to me and for the gentle pats and hugs. For the smiles, for the flowers, for the coffee, for the ribbons of surprise and delight . I'll be thinking of you this week. I would not be who I am nor where I am if it were not for the collective efforts of all you and your thoughts and prayers. I am humble, indeed. Today I sing of you.

JBelle
On Location
New York, New York

Nest Update

Can you see how deep brown the speckles are getting?!

JBelle

Bellemaison

The 'Kan EWA

It's completely clear to me. If I am going to gain the maximum benefit from the 'Sex and The City Movie' coming out May 28, I must rewatch all 7 sets of the original HBO DVDs. Wisdom from disk #1, Season #1: three ways are not about sex but about running away from intimacy. See? And you thought it was all about the clothes.

JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

Well, life goes on and on and on. Booked the caves at Lascaux yesterday. I have wanted to go for so long I can't believe it's finally happening. Can't.believe.it. I have read accounts of people who go and cry. I wonder how it will touch me? I wonder if it will be enough? Maybe it's just better to read about them . Maybe not. Maybe seeing is worth it. I'm gonna find out. Finally!

JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

Sometimes the most amazing grace sneaks up and wraps sweet, soothing arms around you in such a fashion as to catch you unaware. Completely unaware!

As a child, I made May baskets for everyone I knew. My teachers, my grandmother, my neighbors, my friends' mothers. I remember mastering the art of the Victorian conical May basket, with candy in the bottom and a rick rack handle. I would stalk through the grass with the stealth of a cat on on a bird and obsessively position my May Basket on the door handle, then poke the doorbell with a fierce stab , jump off the porch and run. Run the like wind, blind to anything but being completely out of sight as the door opened. Sometimes, the door never opened and my basket would hang, bright yellow stalks of forsythia crookedly askew, waiting for my May Victims to come home and find their bounty. I loved May Baskets for sooooo long.
This past Wednesday was another chaotic whirlwind at the office and a last of the day meeting left me both disturbed and heartened. As I drove across town towards home, I was too numb to be aware of much of anything except a headache. Once I hit the sanctity of my own driveway, I barely even remembered being at work. I put the car away and made my routine walk across the porch to the front door to pick up the mail and check for packages and froze as I spied a pink gift bag hanging on my front door. Although May 1 was a tiny detail of the day, instinctively I knew what waiting for me at the end of a very long day and what already was a very long week: a May Basket. A pink and white and green lacy, feathery May Basket. For me! The first of my life.

I was absolutely thrilled and completely mystified. And smitten! There were daisies and carnations so it looked and smelled wonderful. Such attention to detail, this beautiful, wonderful May Basket. I had no idea who sent it. Was it one of the people who were at my house last weekend? Was it my Tuesday night dinner guest? Was it someone from my book club?
No. No. And No. It was my friends from the house next to us. These adorable enchanting creatures who are my new neighbors made me a May Basket and hung it on my door. Didn't find out until today when they came over after soccer to confess. They came in to go out and pay a call on The Chow Nation and have cookies and after a point, told me they had to run really, really, really FAST to get out of sight so quick. It took me back a million years to when I tried and tried to figure out how to get violets to stay nice for my grandma's basket. To rolling that pretty paper in a cone and gluing lace around the top edge. To tucking in a paper doily to cradle the flowers. To dropping the lemon drops in , one by one. I could remember it as if it were last week and our kitchen at 10th and Penn and the thick lawns of the neighborhood and the bright colors of Foster Avenue on May Day all came swirling back to me in a second. How I loved those May Baskets and Coeur d'Alene, Idaho in spring.

That's grace and joy and so as Igantius says, God is all around us. Today I saw His face in my friends who are so kind and treat me and the world with such sweetness and generosity. Amazing, amazing grace.



JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

We always have a dairy course when we entertain at Bellemaison; because...we do. In one of my many other lives, surely I was the proprietor of a large small diary farm, like the old Finucane farm in Hayden Lake. I had a huge vegetable garden, grew every flower that was cut and vased in my house and had vats and vats of sour cream, cream cheese, eggs and butter, in big walk-in coolers, on the back porch of the house and in another one in the barn. I had a nation of those fabulous black and white cows; silent eaters, connoisseurs of fine grasses. That was my life where I'd was up very, very,very early and had plenty of time to watch the morning light unfold over the pasture and watched the stars appear, one by one, in the navy blue summer sky. I remember it so well!


And so that's why you'll find plenty of diary in our menus here. We disdain preservatives and chemicals but embrace fat and sugar. Hey. It's our kitchen.

The Palace Cheesecake

Junior League of Memphis Heart and Soul

People lose all control over this recipe. I say that matter of factly, with respect and with gratitude. Those of you who have been to Bellemaison probably wondered what I was thinking when you were giggling and scratching yourself all over after a bite of The Palace Cheesecake. I was thinking this: who's yer daddy?
6 stone-ground wheat crackers, crushed

1 egg

dash salt

10 sun-dried tomatoes, packed in oil, drained

1 cup prepared pesto

3/4 cup sour cream

1 t all purpose flour

Preheat over to 325 degrees. Butter 7- inch springform pan. Sprinkle crushed crackers in bottom of pan. In a large bowl, beat cream cheese with an electric mixer until softened. Add egg and salt, beating on low speed until combined; set aside. In food processor bowl, process sun-dried tomatoes. Add pesto and process to mix.

Spread half of the cream cheese mixture into prepared pan, spreading evenly. Top with tomato mixture, spreading evenly to the edge. Spread remaining cheese mixture over tomato mixture. Bake about 35 minutes.

Stir together sour cream and flour; carefully spread over cheesecake. Bake 4 minutes more. Cool; cover and chill 4 to 24 hours. Remove side of pan. Serve on a bed of baby greens. Makes 24 servings.

Sour Cream Banana Bread

Junior League of Monroe Celebrations on The Bayou

We just wouldn't dream of making banana bread without sour cream here at Bellemaison. Just wouldn't do it. Joe Montana gets delirious over this banana bread. I say, Joe Montana, look: it's just banana bread. And then I say, and this is Bellemaison. But not in my out loud voice.
1 stick butter, softened

1 cup sugar

2 eggs beaten

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 t baking soda

1/2 t salt

1 cup mashed bananas (about 3 bananas)

1/2 cup sour cream

1 t vanilla extract

1/2 cup chopped pecans

Preheat over to 350 degrees. Grease and flour one 9-inch loaf pan or several smaller pans.

In a large bowl, cream the butter with the sugar until light and fluffy.

Add the eggs and mix well.

Whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt; combine with the butter mixture.

Add the bananas, sour cream and vanilla, stir well.

Fold in the nuts.

Pour into the prepared pan and bake for 1 hour or until a wooden pick inserted near the center of the loaf comes out clean.

Cool in the plan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a rack.

Cucumber Dill Salad Dressing

unknown

I have used this recipe in one form or another for many, many years. I have the original recipe card in my handwriting but I do not know where it came from. I throw change ups with the dairy to use it different ways. Sometimes, I use cream cheese and it becomes a dip. In the salad dressing form, I blanch asparagus and serve the asparagus over a finely chopped bed of lettuce with a few strips of sweet pepper on the plates, doused in this dressing. It's a little disruptive because people stand , clutch their napkins, throw back their heads and howl, right there at the table. Irritates me, but what are you going to do? They are my friends, so I allow it.
1/2 c grated unpeeled cucumber

1 T diced pimiento

1 t lemon juice

1/2 t dill weed

1 t grated onion

1/8 t pepper

4 drops tabasco

1/2 c sour cream

1/2 t salt

Drain cucumber thoroughly until dry as possible. Combine with all other ingredients. Chill for at least 30 minutes.

JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

The Salads

Some of you asked for the recipes; I'm happy to give out recipes. I just don't think much of what we do in the kitchen is a secret or should be a secret. If I find a recipe or make a recipe that I like, a little bell goes off in my heart every time you use it and the people in your life like it. When I menu for lunch, I usually go with salads. And when the entrees are salads, I go with a chicken, a vegetable and a fruit. They provide a nice range of choice for people and usually provide a nice range of color on the table, too. For this event, I used chicken, tomatoes and apples. The apple salad here is a curve but it is a recipe that I just love and is highly unique. Goes with almost anything and keeps nicely in the refrigerator afterward. The tomato salad is always a big hit and evaporates. Just can't make enough of those killer tomatoes. And the chicken salad is a signature dish here at Bellemaison. I can make it with the flu, in my sleep, with jet lag, under any circumstance and it always pleases and comforts everyone in the house.

Lemon Waldorf Salad
from The Junior League of Louisville CORDONBLUEGRASS


I am quite select about the apples, making certain they are crunchy and crisp and not mushy as some late winter apples can be. Of course, you must use Washington State apples. I also have been know to grill chicken and hot off the grill, chop it up and fold it in to this salad. mmmmm. mmmmm.


1/2 cup mayonnaise
1 T sugar
1 T milk
1 tsp grated lemon rind
3 Granny Smith or tart apples
1 cup diced celery
1/2 cup toasted broken pecans

2 T lemon juice

1/2 pound seedless grapes


Stir together mayonnaise, sugar, milk and lemon rind.
Cover and chill.
Peel, core and chop apples.
Toss together apples, celery, pecans, lemon juice, and grapes.
Cover and chill.
Just before serving, toss dressing and fruit together.


Serves 6-8.

Killer Tomatoes

from the Junior League of Memphis HEART AND SOUL

I usually serve this as a salad that makes a nice accompaniment for chicken or beef and a nice complement for fruit. I also prepare angel hair pasta, then season, oil and chill the pasta and serve the tomatoes over the top, as a cold entree. Pass the bowl of grated reggiano and Bob's your uncle .

5 cups cherry tomatoes, cut in half
6 slices lean bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled
1/3 cup snipped fresh basil
2 T red wine vinegar
2 t sugar
1/2 t dry mustard
1 sm clove garlic, minced
s & p to taste
4 T extra virgin olive oil
fresh basil springs

In a non-reactive bowl, toss together tomatoes, bacon and basil.
In another bowl, combine vinegar, sugar dry mustard, garlic, salt and pepper.
Add olive oil in a steady stream, whisking until blended.
Pour dressing over tomato mixture.
Toss lightly.
Garnish with additional fresh basil spring.
Serves 6 for salad.

The Chicken Salad of Bellemaison

I have made this salad for any and every occasion or time people have been at my house in the last 20 years. I take the time to make my own croutons which really amps up the result. I also do a hot Caesar version of this that's quite tasty. This is comfort food of the highest order.

2 C cooked, diced chicken

2 C diced celery

2 C croutons

1 C mayonnaise

1/2 C slivered almonds

2 T fresh lemon juice

2 t dehydrated onion

1/2 t salt

1/2 C sharp cheddar cheese

Heat over to 450 degrees.

Mix all ingredients but 1 cup croutons and cheese.

Heat 10 minutes.

Top with cheese and rest of croutons and heat until melted.

Bellemaison Croutons

6 plain bagels

1/2 c butter

garlic powder

salt and pepper

Carefully diced bagels into crouton-size amounts and arrange on jelly roll pan.

Sprinkle with garlic powder.

Season with salt and pepper.

Drizzle with butter.

Bake in 400 degree oven for 8 minutes, then remove from oven and turn. Bake for 3 more minutes. Remove from oven and pour into cool dish.

JBelle

Bellemaison

The 'Kan EWA

omigod. My house was absolutely trashed.

That's how I knew everybody had a good time. For people like me, who tend to be a little picky about details, absolute chaos and bedlam is vital to every foremost effort. When I clean my house, first I create an even bigger mess than I started with; I create an absolute lollapalooza of a mess, then I put it all back together in the precise order that pleases and comforts me. So in getting ready for this party for forty people whom I do not know, save for the honored and the honored future in-laws, nothing else would do but to pull all the closets apart and strew the contents up and down the halls, to polish every piece of silver I own, to carefully dust and wash the glass of every piece of art I own, then level each, and to rethink every single flower pot, vase and floral receptacle in this house and on the front porch. No small order, all of that. But it makes me happy. So it was with this party. It was a race to the finish, vanquishing winter with its dark and dust, dullness and dreary and cold, cold, stillness.

And when I was done, the house at Bellemaison became spring with flowers, colors, aromas and light in the sunny afternoon air. I looked around when the party was at a high pitch and saw the furniture and floors littered with silver punch cups, toilet paper, ribbons, handbags and smiles, smiles, smiles, and I was ever happier. You have to make a real mess to get a real result. So it was all worth it because the O'Doherty Girls laughed and laughed, kept me laughing and left here laughing still, as they scampered down the driveway into the spring evening. It was my pleasure to please and serve them and the bridal shower left me content and grateful for such darling, honest people in my life.

Breanne is a lithesome Goddess. She is generous, beautiful and has flawless manners. Her two sisters are older and younger versions of her and the three of them would be quite intimidating in their beauty and grace, if they were not such compassionate, caring people. Breanne came to me in a moment of poise and care and said JBelle, there's a squirrel on the front porch eating the cake. I SHRIEKED, with absolutely no poise, at that damn razorback who has eaten probably about 2000 Apricot Beauty tulip bulbs over the last four years, ran out to the front porch to my luscious blueandwhite dottedswiss cake on my darling white wrought iron tea cart, all set up up for tea. The little porker wasn't even happy with a swipe on the corner. His grubby footprints led to the center of the cake, where he dug a divot of blue butter cream frosting, narrowly missing the B. He disappeared by the time I got there, clearly holding the higher IQ in the battle of wits that is him and me. I was horrified about serving guests cake with rodent germs but Breanne was worried about me and my parade, hoping the squirrel hadn't sent too much rain. And so in the end, that's what makes her gorgeous: her heart. It's ginormous.

It was a afternoon of girlfriends--love, care and laughter--in a springtime that you only get in the NorthLand. Viva la pedicures. Viva la wedding and bridesmaid dresses. Viva la dishes and linen. Viva la recipes. Viva la plans. Hopes. All of it. Viva.la.all.of.it.


JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

Party #1: Shamus played football with The Christ Child and dated the lovely Breanne, who went to the protestant, do they call it public? high school. They graduated and he went to Gonzaga, she to the U. Soon she transferred back to Gonzaga and we came to believe what they knew and believed: this was forever. And now, they marry at St. Al's in a few weeks. We are all so very excited.

Bellemaison will host a bridal shower for Breanne this weekend, using the theme "Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue." The Chows have been absolutely knocking themselves out making Breanne a scrapbook with that theme and thanks to the generous donation of old pictures from The Little One, one of those Catholic School Mothers who co-mothered Shamus and Breanne through Catholic grade school, we have a treasure trove of shots that will amaze and delight the bride to be.

The wedding colors are blue and brown and so we are weaving all hues of blue through the house with touches of brown here and there. The flowers in the dining room will be white hydrangeas and ferns with deep blue muscari and croci; blue hydrangeas and hyacinths and tulips in a pussy willow nest in the living room with paperwhites at the punch bowl in the breakfast room. Got some really good clear blue plates at Freddy's for $2.99 apiece and will use the white appliqued table cloth with the tiny, tiny stitches over blue flowers and birds. The Russians are coming for the annual springtime polish of the silver, so we should be all Gorhamed up around here. Least for another year.

We plan to divide the party into six groups and give each group six rolls of toilet paper, paper clips, scotch tape and a stapler and direct them to appoint a model and fashion a wedding dress. Adequately fueled by the lemonade and vodka punch, the results will be a clear indicator of spring, something that's lacking here in the PNW at this date.

And the menu. The menu will fall back on some of the traditional favorites here at Bellemaison. The back of the house is busy with the first party of the year as is the front of the house so we will use some tried and true recipes that don't challenge us and that people love; on this day, the girls at Party #1 will let their nutrition go for an afternoon, in celebration of love and spring and all that is hopeful. We can't wait! Viva la fat, salt and sugar!

Bridal Shower Menu

Passion Fruit Iced Tea
Vodka Lemonade Punch

Sour Cream Banana Bread
Orange Shortbread

Strawberries with sweet cream cheese
Savory Cheesecake
Dill and Cayenne Dip with vegetables

Lemon Waldorf Salad
Hot Chicken Salad
Tomato Salad

Tuxedo Cake
Iced Vietnamese Coffee
Cappucino

Ain't love grand?

JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

I met Benedict the way many people meet the Holy Father: in Rome, just yards outside his private apartment in Vaticano. It was a gorgeous Wednesday morning and hundreds of thousands of people from all over the world had come for the Wednesday morning general audience in St. Peter's Square. I was there with PoleDancer PhD, who had somehow seduced me into taking her to Rome and showing her around, because...she had never been there. Truth is, Pole Dancer PhD has never been anywhere without her husband, let alone out of the country by herself. And she was passionate about seeing Thuh Pope! What is it about Protestants and the Pope? Have they all forgotten they came through the Lutherans to be where they are today? Giving $25 to the cancer fund annually and attending Easter and Christmas church services as a cultural rite of holiday? Is Thuh Pope! another part of that cultural experience? "I went to Rome and saw Thuh Pope!" So there we were, she and I, at a general audience of the Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI.

He was formerly known as Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger. When he became the successor of JP2, I was a tiny bit daunted and dismayed because of his extremely conservative, rigid politics. I know these Germans well. And as always, you can never separate the politics from the theology. Which follows which? But I was reassured by Monsignor Ribble himself that Ratzinger was a good man; that he was as people said, wicked smaht, and that his politics followed his theology and not vice versa. Besides, at his age, he had a brief window of leadership. I also realized that I really did believe that Ratzinger became Benedict at the invitation of Our Lord; that he was the successor of Peter by the hand of divine invitation. So Benedict is was. And is. I am a Catholic by choice and am blessed, not burdened, by church and the work of our Church.

Having done this general audience thing several times over, I knew what we needed to do to get to the best seats. I checked handbags and outfits before we left the hotel, in an effort to speed us through security. We left the hotel and walked into the Vatican past Castel Sant'Angelo, and wounded our way though the queues to the final security checkpoint, where we sailed through. I dashed up the side aisle and secured seats in the second row of the second section. Roughly, second row balcony right, for those theatre goers in the crowd. So we settled in to wait for the events of the day to begin.

A general audience at the Vatican is one of the most joyful things you'll ever do. Many of the people there have saved their money for years and years to be there, so they are gleeful and giddy as their dreams come true. People wear their natives costumes and nuns still looks like nuns in Rome, so there is much to see and hear, as the languages of the entire world swirl in and around your head, confounding and delighting you simultaneously. This is all staged in the set of St. Peter's Basilica, whose architectural splendor is hardly rivaled anywhere. It is a sublime experience, not duplicated in Christendom or in the other secular and religious capitals of the world. And if it's a beautiful day in Rome....

A roar went up from the crowd and the chants of "Il Papa!" began. In my previous experience, the Popemobile had come up a center aisle to the main altar set up on the steps of the basilica. I was confused by the chants of the crowd as to where the action was to begin, much as you aren't completely clear where a prize fighter will enter the arena to make his way to the ring. I scanned the throngs of people furiously, still more confused and getting irritated because I couldn't see Benedict's car and the security team in place. The crowd now thundered with a frenzy that made me a tiny bit panicky. I shrugged my shoulders in frustration and looked up and Benedict was at my elbow. He had entered on our side, right on our aisle. The people in the first row kissed his hand and bowed their head for a blessing and I stood there incredulously as he looked straight into my eyes, held them and smiled deeply, with an intensity and knowledge I still cannot describe to this day. I was literally struck down. Completely overcome, my eyes filled with tears and I had to sit down as the people and the Pole Dancer around me jumped and waved and photoed the Holy Father, Pope Benedict. I sat in my chair as the peopled towered over and about me, the energy of that one moment of Benedict's presence still clearly with me. After several more moments, I was able to join the crowd again, slowly rising to cheer in joy and jubilation of the moment and in adoration of our leader here on earth.

After the service began, I thought about what had just happened. The fact is, I was awestruck, thunderstruck, gob-smacked. I decided it was the surprise factor and it was such a close encounter at that, with the people in the first row all genuflecting, I had his undivided attention for a few seconds. I was just caught up by the wave and rolled into the surf, with the heat of the day and the swarms of people doing their part to overwhelm me as well. And I couldn't believe I never got a picture! He was right there and I couldn't get the shot off. Actually, I had dropped the camera. Anyway.

The Pole Dancer soon became fidgety and restless as the Holy Father greeted the crowd seven different times, in seven different languages. Already the novelty had worn off for her, but I am always blessed and humbled to be with people from my church that I have not met and loved every minute of the two hours we spent together on that day in June.

After the final blessing, Benedict came back down the center aisle in his car with his security team flanking him and to my utter surprise, AGAIN, his car turned and he came right in front of us. But this time I was ready; I got the camera focused and ready to go and has he approached us, once again, he looked deeply into my eyes and smiled, the smile of a person who has known me for thousands of years. My jaw dropped and an enormous electrical charge coursed through my body, knocking me off my feet, sending me back to my chair with a heavy thump and a clatter as my camera hit the bricks again. His car turned into the final exit and He turned and waved to the Pole Dancer and me. I feebly waved back, this time able to crack a little smile as I sprawled on my chair, completely weak with no physical capability whatsoever.

And then I knew, for sure, what had happened. And I knew what Paul has said is all true. Because on that day in June in Italy, the Holy Spirit paid me a visit, not once but twice, to remind me that not only was I wrong about Benedict but also that I don't have the wisdom of the ages. I don't have all the answers and I can't begin to think my way through all the answers and the variables that factor into the answers. I am not as smart as I would like to think, no matter what my accomplishments and experiences on this earth have been. The Holy spirit had me know that It works in ways known only to Itself but if I have faith, if I keep faith, the path shall become clear and wisdom will light itself, much as a beautiful painting on a wall.

So Benedict is so very special to me. Many, many people claim JP2 was their Pope. He was the only Pope I ever knew so I was happy to throw in on that one. Until that day in Rome, when the Holy Spirit spoke through Benedict, with a message of love and blessing that lives with me to this very moment. Love and blessings to you and all that read this. Keep the faith. Stay brave. Our time is at hand.

JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

So The Bitch was back on the Palouse last night and she destroyed the place. Although it was a long, slow wind up, Elton John put on the show that had 12,000 mothers and kids dancing and singing together in an euphoric springtime rite of celebration. He is The Lord of arrangement, composition and performance. His left hand is like movable granite and his right hand is a gossamer jackhammer up and down the keyboard of the ten foot ebony Yamaha that is the co-star in his current road show that started in Dubai and will end July 13 in Weybridge UK.

Mike the Bike Stud was thrilled when Sir Elton opened with 'Funeral of a Friend'; Mike has seen EJ' show 8 times but never seen him do 'Funeral', his all-time favorite. And although the Palouse itself did a mighty rendition of its annual 'Springtime' yesterday, complete with delicious and sensual sunshine accompanied by sweet, soft air wafting in from the wheat fields, when the lights went down promptly at 8 pm at Beasley Coliseum and Sir Elton advanced the stage in embroidered tails, sat down at his piano and cranked right into 'Funeral', I knew this was why we had come to the Palouse on this day and that this was the show we had come to see.

The band is second to none. First with the legendary Nigel Olsson playing drums, can the night be anything less than a fulfillment of prophecy? Davey Johnstone IS Davey Johnstone on lead guitar. He can follow the Gossamer Jackhammer like he' s a dragonfly in a head set, darting in, out, over, under the lines and progressions; diving through the music, coming back up for air in a big spark, and then disappearing in a wisp of smoke. In a word, his music is thrilling. If for nothing else, Davey Johnstone is awesome because he looks like a heroin addict, a blond warrior and veteran of things best left unspoken. He looks like a bad, bad boy as only guitar gods can and should be. And I hear he's Scottish. The guy is the complete package.

The tech is all light and sound. Forty or so cams with spots from 3 points out. It's very eighties, but updated for grace and elegance. The tech perfectly, beautifully frames the essence of the evening: music. There's nothing particularly visual about this show, just wonderful, wonderful music emanating from a bright, colorful spot that's away, beaming in to you in perfect clarity, as you sit in complete darkness. It's a musical light and dark thing. Just killer.

So as I sat in the darkness with all the other sons and daughters of Washington State and let this music enter me, I could feel the decay and fatigue being separated and excised from my body, where its treachery has been lurking and slyly reproducing. And when we walked to the car under the starry, dark, midnight skies, I felt year and years and years, and pounds, lighter. And in the wonderful way that transformation is, I was smaller but bigger.


JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

You Belong in 1986

Wild, over the top, and just a little bit cheesy. You're colorful at night - and successful during the day.

What Year Do You Belong In?

Oh my! Dare ya.....


JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

[somewhere i have never travelled]

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands

JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

So I find myself in a place where I never dreamed of but I place where I always have always worked to be: my youngest child is graduating from college soon. My one ambition in life has always been the education on my children. I wanted it to be value-driven, thoughtful, disciplined, yet free from the "tyranny of precedent" as Clara Barton would have it. Their education has always been at the forefront of my ambition and of the activities and past times of our family.

As it turns out, I have raised one child whose politics are liberal, one child whose politics are conservative, one child who hasn't realized yet that he can vote and that people do vote. I've raised three children who are solid, bona fide, no matter whose definition you use, good cooks. One who likes to travel, two who like to be at home. I have three children, each with well developed senses of humor. One of my children will always be Best Dressed in any situation; two who will be doing what they can to keep up. uh oh. I bet I have ruffled some feathers with that one. All right. How about this? I have two children who drive expensive, fast cars that are head turner cars and one child who doesn't own a car.

My point is that they all act as their own agent, yet hold each other and me, quite dearly. They are all educated and learned. My work is done. Which is pretty darn scary for me, as I have to find a new job. And I dunno what exactly appeals to me better than showing my kids around and pointing out the pitfalls as we walk.

Sooooooo. Only one thing to do. Partaaaay. So partaay we will; celebrate our successes and anticipate our futures. One gig at a time. Let's do it.


JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

This is an Air Force recipe that I have used forever. It is fabulous. And fabulous to have in the refrigerator for a quick sip. I put big olives, celery, pickled spicy asparagus, and/or pickled spicy beans in a tall glass, fill to half-glass with ice, then pour in the Bloody Mary. yeah baby.

Dick's Bloody Marys

1 can V-8

2 lemons, squeezed hard for juice

4 drops Tabasco

2 dozen shakes celery salt

1/3 cup Worcestershire sauce


Combine all ingredients into half-gallon bottle. Fill to the top with vodka. Shake well. Refrigerate.

JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

You have asked for it, waited for it, prayed about it and now here it is. The famous brunch recipe of Bellemaison, served with fruit salad and little tiny cinnamon rolls washed down with Dick's Bloody Marys:

HOLA MEMPHIS!
from the Junior League of Memphis 'Heart and Soul'

6 - 6-inch tortillas

1 1/2 pounds lean mild sausage

1 c chopped onion

1 minced clove garlic

1 tsp crushed dried oregano

1 tsp ground cumin

1 tsp ground red pepper

1/2 tsp salt

2 cups shredded Monterey Jack cheese

8 eggs

2 1/2 cups milk

1 4-oz can diced mild green chilis, drained

1 c dairy sour cream

two tomatoes, chopped small
two avocados, chopped chunky
1 can olives, sliced
large wedge iceburg lettuce, sliced fine
two bunches green onions, chopped chunky
salsa

Spray 13 x 9 baking pan and line with tortillas, cut to fit.

Using a fry pan, cook sausage, onion and garlic over medium heat; drain. Stir in oregano, cumin, red pepper and salt. Spoon sausage mixture into tortilla-lined dish. Sprinkle with cheese.

Preheat over to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, beat eggs and milk until well blended. Stir in green chili pepper. Pour egg mixture over sausage and cheese.

Bake about 45 minutes or until knife inserted near corner comes out clean. Let rest 5 minutes. Frost with sour cream.

Cut in pan and pass bowls of tomatoes, avocados, olive, lettuce, onions, and salsa.

Make 8 servings.



JBelle
Bellemaison
THe Kan 'EWA

I like 'you of my heart, send me a little word'. I would like to think that if I was being my very best self, I could be this. Call it all joy.

it may not always be so; and i say

it may not always be so;and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another's,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be-
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
                          -- ee cummings

JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

Man. You gotta go with the classics. Wait! You knew this was coming! It's National Poetry Month! This for all my unhappy friends, with, yes, LOVE:


you shall above all things be glad and young

   you shall above all things be glad and young
  For if you're young,whatever life you wear


  it will become you;and if you are glad
  whatever's living will yourself become.
  Girlboys may nothing more than boygirls need:
  i can entirely her only love


  whose any mystery makes every man's
  flesh put space on;and his mind take off time


  that you should ever think,may god forbid
  and (in his mercy) your true lover spare:
  for that way knowledge lies,the foetal grave
  called progress,and negation's dead undoom.


  I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
  than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
                                   --e.e. cummings


JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

I bet I didn't mention Las Vegas. That's okay, I guess, as LV is almost timeless these days. Where else can you go for a super-hit of fun, elegance and beauty, with now, surprise!, great restaurants? LV. Who knew?

We went for a long weekend in February and ran up and down the strip, squandering money at the roulette wheel, the pai gow tables and the Hermes and Chanel stores. It's a fabulous weekend! The people from Southern California tear around, all greased and cinched up, and make a terrific spectacle for the international tourists, who at this time, are about 50 per cent of the take in LV. Gotta love that puny dollar. Restaurants are the single biggest trend of the new millennium in new LV. In the old millennium, LV food was second to none in it malevolence. It's a new day and a new deal and you can now go to LV on restaurant treks. There are that many and they are that good. Bouchon delivers everything it promises. Emeril's for Cajun food was weak but it does remain a lovely restaurant, steeped in immaculate restaurant technique of impeccable service and flawless food. Just no heart and soul. Maybe true to form for an LV Emeril's? The Palmat the Forum Shops is fabulous for steak. They do meat and all that meat needs with a touch that is sumptuous and soothing. Best all time steakhouse. And finally, Italian at Bertolini's at the Forum Shops by the fountain still is one of the best, lovely dinners in town. We were there on election night in 2000 when President Bush ran against Al Gore. We sat down and ordered wine and antipasti and when they brought it, they said things were too close to call. Then when they brought the funghi e pasta, they said VP Gore won. When they brought the tiramisu, they were then saying, Wait a minute! Come to think of it, I am going to book a room at Caesar's for Election Night 2008 and relive the moment. And celebrate.

Saw The Divine Miss M on the 3rd night of her new show. She looks fabulous. She is singing fabulous. Her set and tech is phenomenal. She mentioned the tech budget figure and it escapes me at the moment, but my jaw did drop at the mention. And I was happy for her. What a buzz to perform in that theatre with a stupendous production budget at this point in your career. She was wickedly and profanely funny. Her gift shop is chock full of cute and wonderful things. It's all so, so good. Saw 'Love' with Cirque du Soleil. Hauntingly gorgeous. It explores the backstories of the songs and the childhoods of the Fab Four. Alls I gotta say is that the Cirque must have 6 or 8 clinical psychologists on staff; how else could they climb into your head and heart so fast and go so deep? Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Beautiful.

Oh, yeah. Speaking of which, then there's the Bellagio. When is it that you go to that place and they aren't at the top of their game? Wynn, Schmynn. The Bellagio is a sensory feast and a true place to promenade when in LV much as one promenades on the Champs d'Elysee when in Paris. And everyone goes there, at least to look around. It is a teeming mass of a broad spectrum of international humanity. My favorite Bellagio delight is breakfast in the breakfast room. Five Star Food, which with scrambled eggs give you new appreciation and respect, Five Star Restaurantmanship, Five Star Design. But another emerging favorite came up this trip: on Sunday morning I bought a NYT and wandered down the hall to the chairs set in the windows outside the bathroom of the convention center. Sat in the sun, sipped coffee, read the paper and watched people. Yuuuum.

How can you not love LV? It' s both a definition and a reality in and of its own.

JBelle

Bellemaison

The 'Kan EWA