Tag Archives: frittata

Day 183: Debbie

6 Oct

Today is a huge milestone for this blog (and me). As of today, I am halfway towards my goal of a making pie a day for a year! In a way, it feels as if I’ve only just begun – but it’s already been six months now.

And this all began because I had a crazy idea in the middle of the night to make “a pie a day” my gratitude project. The next morning I met my friend Debbie and asked her to talk some sense into me… but instead she encouraged me to follow through with this project, and I am very glad that she did. Debbie also sent me 250 pie tins so that I would not have to ask for my pie plates back every day (something I had not thought much about).

When I had my “grand idea” it seemed so simple – make a pie a day and give it away. There was no thought about the time it might take, the people I might meet, the emotions that would surface. I’ve spent time with folks that I might not have otherwise had the opportunity to visit; I’ve heard the words, “You’ve made my day” more times than I can count. It has been a wonderful experience so far and I am looking forward to see where the rest of the year takes me.

Today I wanted to thank Debbie for her tremendous support of my “pie” endeavor with a beautiful frittata. She saw my idea as something wonderful and I am most grateful for that.

Only she who attempts the absurd can achieve the impossible. Claire Goldberg Moses

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Day 150: With Sympathy

3 Sep


Spinach and Chicken Sausage Frittata

Recently friends of mine experienced a very great loss and tonight I find myself searching for the right words to say. The very best that I can offer them is “I’m so very sorry.” However, what I really want to do is to make things better and yet I am powerless to do so.

Though I know that nothing can “fix” things I had to do something for them and so early this morning, I brought these friends a gift of food. It was a simple frittata, baked with love. I want them to know that they are in my thoughts and that I share in their sadness.

Unable are the loved to die. For love is immortality. ~Emily Dickinson

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal. ~From a headstone in Ireland

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Day 131: Ken

15 Aug


Ken and Stephan

My family met Ken more than 10 years ago when we were out hiking in the mountains. We kept going up and up and I couldn’t wait until we reached the summit. After what seemed like a very long time, there we were – at the top of the mountain. And what was there? A fire lookout tower!

I’d never been to a fire lookout tower before and really didn’t know much about them. The lookout, Ken, was happy to have some company and invited us in for a “tour.” That day I learned that from the tower you can see in all directions – and a fire lookouts job is to watch the surrounding area for signs of fire.

Ken remembers that on that first day I was not in a very good mood. I was hot and tired and didn’t seem much interested in the view. I looked around and found a photo album and began to flip through the pages. On one page I found a classmate from my college days and I asked Ken why he had a picture of this gal in his album. “That’s my daughter Lynn” he told me. It was incomprehensible to me that this man and my friend were related. What were the odds of that happening?

From that day we have made it a point to visit Ken at least once a year at his tower. I have always tried to bring him a treat of some kind or another. And today was no different. In fact, today I made two “pies.” The first pie was a sweet treat for Ken – a strawberry-raspberry-rhubarb crumb crust pie. And then I thought that by the time we got up to the tower it would be dinner time and so I baked a broccoli cheddar frittata (which is just a quiche without the crust).

As always, Ken was tickled to see us. He showed our exchange student Stephan all around the tower and explained how he located and called in a fire. And today Ken told us that there are only three lookouts left – that the rest of the towers have switched to using cameras instead of firefighters. He said it was a “cost-efficient” move. But we who have been to the top of the mountain, know that this kind of experience cannot be replaced with a camera.

Tonight I offer my thanks to all the men and women who have worked as fire lookouts. It is an incredible service that you have rendered to your community.

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Day 43: Jamie

20 May

Today was a busy day but I had planned for that… and early on I knew that I wanted to make a pie for Jamie.  Jamie is the mom of my son’s friend Taylor, and they have been friends since fifth grade.

It ‘s kind of funny that we are both the parents of (nearly) 18 year old children but we are from somewhat different generations. I guess what matters most is that we care about our kids and we are willing to do all that we can to help them.  It is really nice to know that there are other mom’s looking out for my kid.


Frittata in iron skillet

That was the case when I was growing up.  Seems you could never step out of line before someone noticed.  It didn’t matter that your Mom was somewhere else; if there was a Mom in the neighborhood, chances are that you were in trouble.

I don’t think that that was a bad thing.  I think kids need to know that there are folks looking out for them – and that those folks are willing to call them out for doing something that is not right.  We’ve all heard the saying “it takes a village to raise a child.”  How many of us really subscribe to that motto?  How many of us are willing to love a child that we did not birth?  Our children need to know that they are loved for who they are  – and it helps if they hear that from people that aren’t their parents.

Tonight I want to offer Jamie my thanks for being another parent to my son.  She has helped him most by accepting him for who he is.  And for that I am most grateful.

For Jamie I made a “special” pie because she is gluten intolerant.  Today she received a sausage and spinach frittata.  It is a small token of my appreciation to her for her willingness to support my son as he journeys to adulthood.


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