Blown Out Flames, Butterdreams "be left" Untold & Razorback Ridge

“I am a happy camper so I guess I’m doing something right. Happiness is like a butterfly; the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder.”
― Henry David Thoreau
December 17th, 2011
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVzIGMqRznk

What a difference writing with a clear head! My spinal cord is relaxed, the twins cakes are complete I’m ready for a Saturday of Chucky Cheese and a small tribe of children drooling, ducking & most certainly, wailing! Getting to know my sisters little family of five: my sister “Mary Cleo to the Shabaz," the 2 year old twins, Lily & Logan, the 3-month old enfant, Kylie (or Nugget as we affectionately refer to her) and finally, Kevin (her husband – say no more Scotty), has been an unforeseen luxury, a generous gift, a blessing in disguise resulting from this whole fraudulent acquisition of my San Diego businesses. Tonight, I play the role of babysitter – diapers plastered with mucky poo to change, mouths chirping in fascist aggravation to be fed, toy’s dispersed throughout the modest Westminster labyrinth like an upturned jigsaw puzzle box . . . I love these kids and absolutely can’t wait to strap on my shit-kickers, dig out my Uncle Scotty Cowboy hat & lasso up some childhood imagination!

Yesterday was a day for tears. Tears shed for someone else’s pain . . well, a bit of my own in remembering Mo and Sammy’s loss of his only son . . but for all said purposes – the untouchable, unthinkable, unequivocal losses sustained by a parent outliving their child are nothing that I can quite relate with. Comforting a friend in need, I will act out my role in neighborly custom, probably drop-off some home-cooked meals for Robin & Gayla, offer my condolences and let them mourn at their own steadfast pace. I have nothing else to offer at this time – the tragedy still fresh to their thoughts as a smashed jack-o-lantern before the day of Halloween.

Prayers will be appreciated, memories will be savored and rivers of cobalt tears of tomorrows not had will no doubt, flow endlessly; but today, in my own circle of Disney-matic life, I hold dear the celebration of these two little tikes, a lioness & cub’s birthday party of laughter, partial skim mozzarella cheesy pizza, unfathomable calories consumed in the form of these twin tower cakes (I’m still twitching from last night’s cake bake session - the copious amounts of sugar coercing through my every blood vessel . . I finished at 1:30 am)

Food for thought, When is the last time you actually baked a birthday cake? Really, what better of a gift for your spastic sister-n-law, your devoted single-serving friend or that rotten crab-apple of a wicked witch neighbor across the way? A Nordstrom’s metallic silver gift-wrapped, Visa snaffled expense, down to the very last minute rush . . . purchased by necessity, expectation, compliance . . . hell, at least you didn’t cop out albeit a $50 gift certificate from Bed Bath & Beyond! A cake, your efforts regardless of their Duncan Hines plagiarized torte variation, is a much more of an authentic birthday present . . more than any forfeited American dollar bills at least. I implore you to pick somebody’s upcoming big day and dream up the extra effort to create some virtuous confection draped in a sheath of almond praline buttercream, scharfenberger dark chocolate ganache, or even settle for some pre-manufactured, overly sweet confectioners sugar frosting – your reward will gain you pounds of sincere appreciation.

with Culinary Blessings,

                     Chef Scotty

Here is a recipe for Vanilla Buttercream Frosting
*Now this isn’t exactly the recipe I use (a more French based variation that requires a bit more attention) but will suffice for nearly any occassion

Ingredients:
• 1 pound box (about 3-3/4 cups) powdered sugar
• 1/2 cup butter, softened
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 3 - 4 tablespoons milk
• Add a touch of sauvignon blanc, orange blossom water, imagination

Preparation:
Combine all ingredients in mixing bowl and mix until combined. Add more milk if necessary for spreading consistency.

The Platypus, Tree of Gratitude, Presence

November 30th, 2011

The Thanksgiving Feast has passed as have numerous days of negating my obligation to this journal . . but I assure you, it has been for a very, very good cause.

Where does one start with giving thanks? I have so much to be thankful for and while I've always made a practice of saying thanks, good job, way to go!!! It seems that there are always those that you can never do enough for. Worse yet, there are some individuals who go through live expecting that which they believed to be owed to them. Silly it seems to be - it's quite clear when someone is doing there best and that alone should be enough. Reminds me of a favorite quote by James Thoreau

"I do not call one greater or one smaller, that which fills it's period and place is equal to any"

In retrospect, I have been immensely blessed with so many beautiful people in my life & if I was to include them here that list would undoubtably extend the length's of 3 Douglas Fir's. The trials and tribulations "growing pains" of my whimsical life simply would not have been manageable without the many branches of friends & forever stablizing roots of family foundation to uphold me these many years. As of recent, I have seemed to eclipse yet another major arcana card game and perhaps leaped some bounds beyond the fictional white picket fence in finally embracing (with thanks & appreciation) the benefit of all these often torturous storms. That revelation being . . . my outer bark has thickened to weather any circumstance, by trunk has grown sturdier, my leaves ever brighter and branches more resilient with each season passing.

I am the tree of my own life and amidst a forest I stand solitary confident yet comforted by my Earthly sisters and brothers a foot and above. I fear none as those that have tried to fervently take saw & axe to my base have all but failed . . . cut me down & I'll my soulful roots will simplly shoot anew. I am the tree of my own life and for that . . I am grateful to myself, that's right me, Scotty, Chef whatever you want to know me as:)

Hold on tight, as I try and pull these thoughts together . . the platypus was my favorite animal in the world since the playful age of 7 years old. I guess as a somewhat oddity myself, I've always related to this estranged marsupial native to to Eastern Australian streams and waterways . This nocturnal, egg-laying, duck-billed, beaver-tailed, otter-footed mammal is my "totem" in the spirit of Native beliefs and appropriately in a time where I have had the priviledge of nuturing my body, mind and soul (do to my excommunication from my San Diego businessess) . . it has reimmerged, bringing forth an uncennsored emotion that has all but eluded me for well over a decade . . .

On Thanksgiving Day, preparing two separate meals and having man-handled more dead turkeys than I care to remember (not to mention the some dozens of little rugruts running around on their little "fruit pie high") . . I accompanied my wonderful server (the glamorus Ms. Whitney) to a local establishment to partake in some much needed Vodka. Our expectations were set at bar exhausation and as the olive surfaced a little too quick to reveal an empty martini glass - we sort of stumbled upon an outdoor table that was mostly vacant (ie: no people just a few half cosnumed libations & a full pack of Marlbrough lights). Engrossed in our conversation of cranberry merlot memories, Whitney & I held our post in claiming this table until at last - the inhabitants returned to stake proprietorship of the table.

The gents were cordial and with Whitney's polished Mariah Carey diva demeanor we quickly settled into conversation . . or at least she did - I was enamored with the Aussie name Laurence and couldn't quite foam up any vocabulary. You can probalby deduce from here: I've spent the last five days with this Melbourne native sharing a constant state of unlimited affection, easy conversation typical only to the best of friends and a 7 day speed tour of Southern California . . yes that's right, he will be departing, leaving, going away . . in 7 days and my outlook is never been fuller!

In some feabile manner, I'll try to pull all of my scrambled 4 shot expresso thoughts together here . . . life whether one is aware of the "why's, how's, when's & where's" is really about enjoying the present as the action. Taking full awareness of the immediate surroundings (the sounds, smells, touches & tastes) and the spontanaity as one unwrap's each gift of the present with eager appreciation and gratitude - regardless of what is finally revealed within.

Life is also remembering those gifts of the past (did you really expect that to find a diamond ring in that big ass box? . . but, think about how much love & comfort that stuffed animal provided you through your childhood years). Treasured memories in full color, laughter shared & tears spilled . . . the things that stay with you forever as a watermark shadows the image of first sight or a footstep marks the path behind a journey of softened waves nipping at ones heals.

Finally, life is very much the unknowing pleasures that come from admiring the shiny wrapping & ribbon bow mindfully holding the unseen. The future always an outcome of our karmic actions and an expression that really is nothing more than the "cause & effect" of the thse truths held dear to our hearts. Admire those gifts not for what you expect to discover within but for their actual "presence" as opposed to "presents"

I am grateful for my seven days - it's seven more than I would have had should I have not acted on the moment. The storms have yielded a heart of gratitude that fears no loss, cherishes each challenge and fully embraces those days of glorious sunshine . . and for that, I am so very, very thankful. Thank you Laurence for showering me with a seven day stretch of enlightened love.

With Christmas approaching and countless Americans draggin dusty cardboard boxes chalk full of holiday decor out of their garages . . remember, what the gift really is . . remember what the thanks is all about. No recipe today or this week - the food isn't important - it's the moments & memories that are shaping before your very eyes . . so keep them open!

with Culinary Blessings,

Chef Scotty