1) Conventional wisdom decrees that, when there is leftover broccoli, it goes into soup. I’ve always managed to ignore that, but yesterday there was too much leftover broccoli to ignore. Happily for me, the NYT Cookbook my friend Maria gave me in 1996 had a cream of broccoli soup recipe in it that was simple enough even for me. By leaving out the ingredients not on the South Beach (carrots, macaroni) and doubling the garlic, I ended up with a superb cold and savory soup.
1a) The success of something like this involves having a meaningful relationship with your food processor or blender — which I don’t really. But at least I kept the soup from turning my kitchen into a Jackson Pollock canvas.
2) Twice in the last four days on my brisk, vigorous walks through the cemetery I’ve come across the large tail feather of a hawk — or perhaps of one of the cemeturkeys, but I’m not getting close enough to either to judge. Naturally I brought them home, where they live in the vase of pencils atop the piano. Who knows, perhaps I’ll collect enough to create a fan like the eagle feather fan Countess Olenska carries to the opera in The Age of Innocence.
2a) I always see something new when I go to the cemetery, and on another of these walks it was a tiny child’s gravestone, topped by a star with the child’s name underneath, Stella. “Stella for star!” cries Blanche DuBois when she sees her sister again in A Streetcar Named Desire! You see how my mind works — always looking for symbolism and Golden Age Hollywood references.
3) An IG reader and friend asked what my favorite hymns were, which reminded me of John Wesley’s Directions for Singing, which include the deathless and exuberant instruction “Sing lustily and with good courage. Beware of singing as if you were half dead, or half asleep; but lift up your voice with strength. Be no more afraid of your voice now, nor more ashamed of its being heard, than when you sung the songs of Satan.” [Emphases mine.]
Three of the cemeturkeys, making a rare appearance in the section of the cemetery I call the Diaspora.