The Country Music Marathon runs right past our house—-twice. It’s one of the few places on the circuit where runners loop back on the same road. As the morning progresses, our boulevard becomes a moving sea of people, cross currents of striding legs, bobbing heads, flinging cups of water and powerade.

This is the 10th anniversary of the marathon, whose beginning coincided with Bill’s birthday, and our official move into our house. That initial year, I recall standing outside, in the gauzy predawn light, transfixed, when the first group of runners, five Kenyans, appeared at the boulevard bend and silently, effortlessly glid past. They moved over the asphalt as I imagined they move across the veldt, light and fleet, feet scarcely touching the ground. The group vanished as quickly as they appeared,

and then quiet.

A gap of time later, the remaining swell of runners emerged. Bill’s dad was visiting us at the time. He was unaware of the event, and came outside at Bill’s urging, ” A few people are cruising by to say hello and wish me a happy birthday!”

It’s become our tradition to get up super early, brew up a raft of coffee, and stand out front on the sidewalk to cheer everyone on. Friends and neighbors gather; it’s a festive and fun time.

I also prepare brunch to enjoy post Marathon. This year I made a frittata–Spanish style. It’s simple to prepare and tastes delicious warm or room temperature, making it an ideal entree for our group who enjoys the casual brunch graze.

The Romesco Sauce is savory-sweet from the roasted peppers, with appealing acid tang from the vinegars. Adjust the sauce’s heat with crushed red pepper flakes to your desired taste.

Tortilla Espagnol with Romesco Sauce

4 Yukon Gold Potatoes
2 Onions
Olive Oil
Sea Salt
Black Pepper
Paprika
6-8 Eggs

chives,sundried tomatoes, fresh oregano for garnish
cast iron skillet

Heat skillet, and coat with olive oil—about 4-5 Tablespoons.
Slice potatoes very thin–about 1/4″—and place into the skillet. Season with salt, pepper, and paprika. Cook for ten minutes, stirring the potatoes around in the skillet so that they cook evenly. Add sliced onions and continue cooking for at least another 10-15 minutes. The potatoes will be browning and the onions translucent.

Beat eggs well and pour over potato mixture. Cook for about 5 minutes (do not stir) as the eggs set. Place in a preheated 350 degree oven for another 10-15 minutes, as the eggs finish cooking. Remove from the oven and allow to cool for 10 minutes before unmolding. Garnish with sundried tomatoes, snipped chives, or fresh oregano. Serve in wedges with romesco sauce.
Delicious warm or room temperature.

Romesco Sauce
2 Red or Yellow Sweet Bell Peppers
2 Tomatoes
1 small Onion
4 cloves Garlic
Olive Oil, to brush onto vegetables and 1/2 c. for sauce
Salt
Red Pepper Flakes
1/2 c. toasted Almonds
1/2 c. dry, stale breadcrumbs
1/4 c. Balsamic Vinegar
2 T. Sherry Vinegar

Cut peppers in half and clean out the seeds. Core tomatoes and cut in half. Place peppers and tomatoes onto a baking sheet pan and brush with olive oil. Place garlic cloves and onion pieces underneath the hollow of the bell peppers. Roast in a 400 oven until vegetable skins and charred and blistered. Remove, let cool, and slip off the skins.

In the food processor fitted with the swivel blade, pulse the almonds and breadcrumbs until fine. Add the roasted vegetables, scraping all the accumulated juices and oil from the baking pan into the processor. Pulse until smooth, then add olive oil and vinegars. Season with salt and red pepper flakes to taste. The Romesco Sauce with form a smooth emulsion. Serve on the side with the Spanish Tortilla.

In Tennessee, fresh strawberries are soon to come, their small white flowers giving way to ripe fruit. They are especially juicy, finger-staining when picked, fleeting in the pleasure they bring.

But, some of that pleasure can be simply preserved.

For our Nashville Earth Day Festival, I demonstrated some basic methods in “Yes We Can Can”—a beginners guide to the seemingly daunting home canning process.

As a novice canner myself, I find that sometimes newcomers to an art are more helpful in Demystifying the Daunting: In other words, if I can do this, so can you!

This recipe for Strawberries in Syrup requires nothing more than ripe berries, sugar, and fresh lemon. There’s no pectin for thickening, as you would use for jellies or jam.

So, it’s a tetch thinner than what you find in the stores, but perfect for spooning over ice cream, shortcake, (or, as seen here, BOTH!) pancakes, and the like. Or spread over a piece of hot buttered sourdough toast…

And the flavor—ahhh—intensely strawberry. Not too sweet: the lemon giving it a nice boost before it disappears into the background.

Now, for preserving: The equipment list isn’t long.
Mason jars, lids, rings,
a big pot for your boiling hot water bath
Tongs to pull out the processed jars,
rack for the big pot’s interior
A wide-mouthed Funnel to guide your pouring
Time involved–about an hour. Really.
Not a bad trade-off when you consider how nice those berries in syrup will be tomorrow, or next November…

Strawberries in Syrup
2 qts. fresh Strawberries, washed, stemmed, hulled
2 1/2 cups Sugar
Juice from 1 Lemon

Quarter strawberries and put into a 3 qt. saucepan on medium heat. Stir in sugar and lemon juice. Cook for about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. Skim off foam as it accumulates on the surface. You’ll want a nice, clear syrup, and this removes any impurities. Sugar will cook into the juices and thicken somewhat.

Have mason jars washed in hot soapy water, rinsed well, and dried. Have big pot filled with water to cover the jars by about 2 inches. Bring this to a boil.

Fill jars with strawberries and syrup, leaving a half inch gap at the top. Wipe the rims and place the sealing cap on top. Put on the ring bands and tighten.

Lower into the boiling water. Set timer for 10 minutes and process. Remove the jars and let cool. Soon, you will hear the distictive POP sound of the seal being made. Hurray!

Any extra strawberries and syrup can be kept in the refrigerator and enjoyed during the week to come.
Makes 5 half pints (or 2 pints and 1 half pint)

These cakes can be made in a snap, and use ingredients so basic to the pantry. They are rather receptive to the syrupy goodness… and the melting ice cream.

Basic Genoise Cakes
4 Eggs, room temperature
4 T. melted Butter
1/2 cup Sugar
1 cup All Purpose Flour, sifted twice
1/8 t. Salt
1 t. Vanilla

1-9″ round cake pan, greased -or-
4-6 small ramekins or brulee ovals

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Beat eggs with salt, vanilla, sugar until tripled in volume. Fold in melted butter and flour. Pour into greased baking pan(s) and bake for 15 minutes, if using individual ramekins, or 20-25 minutes if using 9″ round cake pan.

When cooled, remove from pans. Serve with vanilla ice cream and strawberries in syrup.

The new seafood vendor at our farmer’s market had red snapper fillets for sale, and it triggered a food memory, my first taste of this fish: a revelation. As a former poster child for Picky Eater’s Anonymous who wouldn’t eat fishsticks let alone something fresh from the sea, I credit red snapper caught in Saint Andrews Bay, Florida and grilled outside, at the nearby piney campgrounds as the first unraveling of years of food fear and loathing.

I was sixteen years old, thrilled to be a guest of my best friend Pat McNellis and her family on a spring break camping trip to a secluded beachtown on the Florida panhandle. It was rare for the McNellis’ to plan such a vacation and Pat’s parents, Martha and Maurice, extended an invite to her friends. Jean and I accepted.

Likely the availability of a neighbor’s pop-up camper sparked the trip. It slept four and was an easy hitch onto the McNellis Bel-Air station wagon. We were told to pack light, shorts and tops, and be sure to bring a towel, bathing suit, and pillow.

Maurice intended to fish; he hadn’t used his reel in years but was certain he’d hook a bucketful of good eating from the Gulf Stream waters. Most of the gear packed up with the camper, luggage strapped onto the Bel-Air roof.

Maurice drove, with navigator Martha and youngest McNellis daughter Laura in the front seat. They folded down the back seat, and bedded it with quilts for us four teens. Pat, sister Lynn, Jean and I each placed our pillows on alternating sides, stretched out and settled in for the long drive to the Gulf of Mexico.

Plan was to leave in the early afternoon, but getting the remaining McNellis household, Pa, the dogs, and Aunt Margaret, situated before heading out took longer than expected. Maurice didn’t aim the Bel-Air South until seven pm. “McNellis time,” Pat reminded. “People are bumping.”

No matter. It was my first spring break trip to Florida, my first camping trip too. We were all looking forward to seeing the ocean, and escaping the grind of high school—although we were saddled with English homework—a rare combination of reading absurdist plays and writing the answers, chapter by chapter, to 200 Huckleberry Finn questions.

Of course, we considered ourselves to be cutting-edge cool in 1971.
While Martha pointed out road signs and Maurice considered his casts off a long jetty, we were in our own world, spread out on quilts in the station wagon rear. Discussing the existential nature of life, the bleak vision of Jean-Paul Sartre’s No Exit, the stunning long strawberry blonde locks of heartthrob Casey George was our passion, not fishing or camping or the searing tedium of the Huck Finn homework.

Somewhere between Montgomery and Dothan Alabama Pat and I began writing our own play, “Rest Area No Restroom”

What should have taken eight hours to drive took all night. We awoke glazy-eyed on a side road where Maurice had pulled over to give his eyes a rest, about an hour from our destination.

After unpacking, we spent a lazy day on the beach. Martha set up her camp-kitchen and Maurice headed off to the jetty, tackle box in tow.

It was rough go for the man; he’d lose footing, slip on slick stones, the irregular jetty rocks more treacherous than he’d remembered. His legs got banged up pretty bad.

By early evening, Maurice emerged, knees and shins jagged rock-cut and bloody, but ruddy face beaming as he held up a string of beautiful red snapper.

We learned later that it was a bit of a ruse. Poor Maurice never caught a thing. Battered but determined, he bought some off of some other fishermen and strung ‘em up on his line.

Martha had a grill ready, along with foil packets of sliced potatoes and onions. She cleaned and prepped with fish simply with salt, black pepper, paprika, and lemon, then wrapped them in foil too. After placing all pieces strategically on the grill, she joined Maurice for a Salty Dog cocktail: vodka, grapefruit juice, and little salt. Surely that would salve his wounds.

Some time later, we were called to supper, set out on a long picnic table beneath tall pines, the night sky twinkly.

I was hesitant, but hungry, and so took a forkful. Wow. The snapper was delicate yet firm, sweet, almost nutlike. There was light smokiness from the grill, delicious, with bits of lemon cooked onto the fish added surprising tang. It felt good to be eating something so fresh, so immediate. The potatoes and onions had charred up brown and smoky in their foil packets, too. It was a great beginning to our camping adventure.

The grueling 200 Huckleberry Finn questions were left for the ride home.

Grilled Red Snapper with Lemon and Chives
1 lb. Red Snapper fillets, boned, with skin on
Olive Oil
1 large Lemon, sliced into rings
2 cloves garlic, finely minced
6 long strands of fresh Chives
Sea Salt
Black Pepper
Paprika

Rinse off the fish and pat dry. Lightly rub the whole piece with olive oil. Over the flesh side of the fillet, rub in the minced garlic and sprinkle with salt, pepper, and paprika. Lay out the lemon rings and use the chives as strings to secure, tying them like you would a package around the lemon.

This can be done in advance.

Prepare your grill or smoker. If you are grilling foil packets of potatoes and onions—do those first. The potatoes take time–about 45 minutes.

The snapper fillets can be laid out directly onto the grill and with lid lowered, cooked for 10 minutes. Placed in foil, they will take longer.
These are thin fillets and you don’t want to overcook them.

This past weekend in Washington DC we experienced Full-Blown Spring: warm, almost hot sun, cloudless blue sky, trees outlined in new green emerging on drab hillsides, wide patches of daffodils, butter yellow, drinking in the light.

And, the cherry blossoms.

Oh, my. Blooms in Peak. Gorgeous ruffles of pink surrounding the Tidal Basin, shimmered pink in the water, showered pink in the breeze.
Ensconced by these lovely trees, The Jefferson Memorial, its marbled dome and columns gleaming white, ethereal, seemed to belong to another world.

We didn’t mind the throngs who joined us down at the basin—who could mind sharing in the beauty of such a place? A lot of people were walking with heads bent back, looking up, taking in all the pink. Children danced in the bluster of petals. Babies laughed when held up, face-to-face with the blossoms.

Delightful.

Of course, all of that Spring joy spilled into my daughter’s kitchen, where we prepared a Sunday feast featuring the season’s best:

Young Asparagus grilled in olive oil and thyme,
Butter lettuces dressed with strawberries and dulce di gorgonzola,
Orzo with leeks, shitake mushrooms, and sweet snow peas,
Fresh Ham roasted in rosemary-sage-garlic pesto.

Have you ever had a fresh ham? Likely you are familiar with smoked hams, some highly salted, redolent of hickory; others sugar cured rosy-pink, the rich hind leg of the pig baked under a fruity glaze.

Fresh ham, the uncured, non-smoked variety, is infrequently available, yet makes a wonderful pork roast–sweeter, more deeply flavored than, say, pork loin. I hadn’t cooked one in a number of years (I hadn’t seen one to purchase in as many…) and so when we found one at Whole Foods (at a surprising $2.49lb) we decided to make it the centerpiece of our Sunday DC Family Supper.

A pesto assertive with garlic, rosemary, and sage, is rough chopped with salt and black pepper, mixed with a little olive oil—as a medium—and slathered over the entire roast. You can’t have too much garlic or herb, really. This cut of meat can take it: the garlic gets toasty, the herbs and salt make an incredible crust. The pan fills with savory juices that make a rich brown gravy flecked with garlic bits.

It’s best to cook the ham uncovered, fat side up, on high for the first 30 minutes. Then, reduce the temperature to 350 degrees, and let it roast along for another 2 1/2 hours. You can rotate the meat in the oven, pour a (very!) little water in the bottom of the pan to keep the juices from burning–that’s all there is too it. But, that’s why a liberal coating of the herb pesto is so important.

While the meat is cooking, you’ll have plenty of time to make the spring orzo with leeks, mushrooms, and snow peas.

Roasted Fresh Ham
6-8 lb. fresh Ham, trim any thick fat, but do leave a layer
6-8 cloves Garlic
4 sprigs fresh Rosemary
1 bunch fresh Sage
2 t. Sea Salt
1 t. Black Pepper
2 T. Olive Oil

Rinse off meat and pat dry. Make coarse pesto by chopping all the garlic and herbs together with salt and black pepper. (You can pulse this in a food processor if you like, but in this instance, I prefer the hand chop.)

In a bowl, combine the rough-chop with enough olive oil to act as a vehicle for spreading. Coat the entire ham with the mixture.

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Roast for 30 minutes, then reduce heat to 350 and cook for 2 1/2 hours.

Remove the roast from the pan and let it rest for 15 minutes (or longer) before carving. In the meantime, make the gravy. Mix a heaping tablespoon of all-purpose flour with 1/2 cup water, and stir into roasting pan on the stove top under low heat. Add more liquid as needed; gravy will thicken and be dark and luscious.

Serves 10-12, leftovers make an AWESOME roast pork sandwich.

And, I think that you’ll enjoy the orzo dish below; the silky pasta and mushrooms, savory leeks, and sweet crunch of snow peas balance the richness of the meat.

Orzo with Leeks, Snow Peas, Shittakes
1 box (1lb.) orzo or riso
2 Leeks, cleaned and sliced (I use as much of the leek as possible)
1 lb. Shittakes, sliced
1 lb. Snow Peas, strung and chopped
2 T. butter
2 T. olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

In a deep skillet, heat butter and olive oil together. Sauté leeks until soft and translucent. Stir in mushrooms and cook until they release their liquid. Finally, add the snow peas and sauté for another 3 minutes.
Remove from heat.

In a large (4 qt.) saucepan, bring lightly salted water to a boil and cook orzo according to package directions–about 10 minutes. Drain and add to the skillet of vegetables. Toss until all the ingredients are well mixed. taste for seasonings and serve.

Makes 10-12 servings.