Remembering Riki

Today, I pay tribute and remembrances on what would have been my daughter Riki’s 41^st birthday. As we near the seven-year anniversary of her passing, I observe that losing a child to death at an early age tends to stay fresh in my mind as if it happened yesterday. Riki made such an impact on those around her, and her tight friend group, “The Village” continues to honor her on her birthday. The Village, also, continues to offer emotional supports to the children left behind by the premature death of their mother, my daughter.

I loved watching Riki connect to people. She always paid special attention to those who were, perhaps, less fortunate. At her funeral, during reflection comments, a man stood up to tell about how she made him feel special when he met Riki for the first time. Many told similar stories. What made her special? She loved to laugh, and she had a quick and clever wit. Riki loved to engage in deep discussions with her friends. Before “google,” she would call us for answers to questions in these deep discussions. Mainly, the call would be for us to affirm her points of view.

Riki knew how to make moments special even in the most mundane of tasks. She directed nutrition in school food programs. Riki loved to prepare and share food with friends. Her children consider her “the best cook ever!” On Wednesdays, Riki used to prepare a “taco bar” for the Village. This year’s “Riki Celebration” will feature a taco bar for friends and family paying tribute to her memory.

I took the day from work to pay tribute. My 92 year old mother and her 85 year old husband are visiting. My mother and I took the day to prepare a lovely meal of grilled steak, asparagus, caprese salad, and fresh cucumbers. We offer a toast to my daughter and my mother’s great granddaughter, Riki. We prepared foods loved by Riki.

We could have enjoyed a lovely meal at a local restaurant, but Riki loved to cook and bake, so Mother and I prepared a meal that Riki would have loved: steak, asparagus, caprese salad, and fresh cucumbers. A nice bottle of cabernet sauvignon rounded out the meal, and we had a lovely slice of peanut butter cake for a crowning glory to the “good eats!”

As Indigenous tradition would have it, at least for my tribe/nation, we sing songs and give thanks to Mother Earth and the Creator for what we have and for what we love. We built a roaring fire to which we gave sage and tobacco. We felt Riki’s presence. It was a great honor to be Riki’s mother. She gave all to those who were around her.

To that point, I received a lovely note from one or Riki’s high school friends. Joey thanked me for bringing Riki into the world, and he shared in honor in knowing her. That lovely note came at just the right time to give me a great blessing. Thank you, Joey.

Remembering Riki

My featured image illustrates the loveliness of our daughter, Riki. We lost her, nearly six years ago, to a stroke at the young age of 34 years. She would have been 40 on September 27. She had lived with atrial fibrillation for 11 years, and a new doctor took her off her medicine “to see how she’d do!” I had later read that taking someone off this particular heart medicine could lead to stroke. The new cardiologist simply listed Riki as a “non-compliant patient” to avoid any law suit. Left behind were three young children, a husband, and a loving family to ponder, “why?”

Riki was a leader. She exercised her voice to support and advocate for those who did not have a voice. She was a devoted daughter, sister, mother, spouse, and friend. She loved her work as a school nutrition administrator. Riki was full of energy, and she loved innovation in meal preparation and addressing life’s challenges. Some called her, “bossy,” because strong women scare those who do not have the confidence to put themselves “out there!” She worked hard, played hard, and loved hard, and that’s what made Riki unique and beautiful.

If my daughter learned anything from me, it was to gather friends and family to socialize around stories, laughter, music, and food. I learned even more from her about the stewarship of great friends. She hosted her “village” every Wednesday for a “taco bar.” She loved to cook, and she cooked fabulously. Her friends loved all that Riki was. One of Riki’s dear friends, Danika, began a tradition of making Riki neck garlands out of the peppers from the garden. A few years back when “the village” was celebrating Riki’s birthday, I was gifted with the chili necklace. I dehydrated the hot monsters, and I use the pepper flakes, very sparingly, in recipes calling for some heat. About a week ago, Danika did it again! She sent a chili garland! The chilies are bright and lovely, and the flakes proved to be quite potent! Behold, the color! I call the chili flakes, “Danika’s Chili Blend,” or simply, “Danika.”

Today, Riki’s boys work for Danika, Riki’s best friend, in the kitchen, at a local pub/restaurant. The 18 year old just started college, and the 17 year old is a senior in high school.

What we know is that she was a beautiful, unique, loving, and thoughtful person. Most of all, Riki loved her children and her spouse, Jonathan. They miss her dearly. We were lucky enough to get a visit from Jonathan and Sam, Riki’s only daughter, this past weekend. The “boys” have jobs, so were not able to make the trip. We honored Riki with meals around the table, as was her practice, and stories of her life.

While we tend toward daily thinking about our time on earth with Riki, we rejoice in that we see her so heavily in her children. While I know that our son-in-law will likely find love again, we see her influence in him, too, and we know that he keeps Riki in his heart.

We will celebrate her birthday this evening with one of her favorite dishes: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn. One of the most lovely things is that she and her brother, Stevie, had a very close and loving relationship. He will likely celebrate his sister with a fire and tobacco blessings (from our Indigenous teachings). I look forward to the pictures that he sends when he has a fire. Come to think of it, we will have a fire, too.

Love to you, Riki.

The Joys of Jam!

I love color. I like to fill my house with color! I think my favorite color in a window is cobalt blue. Oscar Wilde, my favorite 19th Century Irish playwright and aesthete once said, “I fear I will never live up to my cobalt dishes.” I think it was actually decorative urns to which Wilde referred. I would have to agree with the great intellect. Cobalt does delight the senses. The featured image is my kitchen window. It looks to be a setting sun outside, which gave the blues an extra boost of color.

Speaking of color, I like color in my foods. Jams are a good example of a colorful food. While jams, that wonderful concoction of sugar and whole fruit, may not appear to be useful beyond peanut butter and jam, bread and jam, jam glaze, etc., for some, I think they can be used every day in a myriad of recipes. I like to create jams. I am less inclined toward jellies, made of fruit juices and sugar, though they make wonderful sweetener for, say, tea! This week, I created a new jam. I give my jams weird names. Actually the names derive from the acronym that comes from the main ingredients, like “CAOS,” pronounced, chaos, is my cranberry-apple-orange-spice jam that I make in November when cranberries come to the grocery. My CAOS graces the holiday table, and goes splendidly with turkey and its trimmings.

“FAJ” and “FOJ,” pronounced fahje and foeje, are my fig-apple jam and fig-orange jam. They pair nicely with brie and other buttery cheeses. I think I’ve written about these previously.

To assure that I measure fruits, sugar, and other ingredients going into the jam, I look at other recipes. My latest is called, APOS, and now I’m sorry I didn’t arrange those letters differently, because some use a similar acronym derogatorily. Going forward…APOS is apricot-pineapple-orange-saffron jam. I followed a recipe for apricot jam. First, you should know that my freezer is full of apricot pulp. My mother has a prolific apricot tree. She picks and cleans the apricots. She adds a “produce protector” with dextrose, ascorbic acid, and citric acid, so that the fruit keeps its brilliant orange, and she adds some lemon juice and freezes in jars.

I thaw the jar and mix my “jam.” For APOS, I used this quart (453.59g) of crushed apricots, and chopped up enough fresh pineapple and two whole oranges to make eight ounces (226.80g) of additional fruit. To which I added four cups (860g) sugar, and two ounces (56.70g) of lemon juice and four good pinches of saffron (about 20 threads for stigma). Saffron is a rare and fragrant spice. Each flower of the crocus produces three stigma and must be harvested by hand. I visited Spain 15 years ago, and I still hang on to the saffron I purchased there. Luckily, my mother’s friend, who lived in the Middle East gifted some. I am using that now. Here it is cooking down to a thickened state. Notice the saffron threads imparting their brilliant color to the already colorful blend of apricot, pineapple, and naval oranges.

While the jam thickens, jars must be cleaned and sterilized. The rings must be clean, and the lids must be covered with hot water to soften the rubber seal. Pour the boiling jam into the prepared jars, and the lid-ring must be adjusted to fit properly. Lower each jar into a boiling water bath canner where the water covers the jars by two or more inches (5.08 cm). Place the lid on the canner, and begin the count (15 minutes) once the water comes back to a boil. Consult your canning guide for best results.

I tested the jam with silky goat cheese, and it did not disappoint. It went well on a freshly baked slice of sourdough, too. I think it’s a keeper.

Jams are a must when you present a meat and cheese board. We like a meat and cheese board when we’re watching a movie on the television.

On this particular board, I used whole figs in place of the jam (What was I thinking?). My husband loves kippered snacks (herring), which is great with cream cheese and crackers. Eat this kind of meal slowly so that you know when you’re full. Otherwise, it’s easy to stuff yourself, because everything is fresh and flavorful.

I’m off to visit my mother for her 90th birthday. My sisters and I are preparing a great feast. Perhaps I’ll share. Thank you for reading.

Mother’s Visit

My 90 year old mother had not seen our new (to us) home since we moved to a different town, so she wanted to make the 18-hour drive to see us and arrived on Monday, March 9, 2020. Luckily, her 82 year old husband and 70-something brother were along to do the driving. My mother makes a great drill sergeant, so she “supervised” the trip.

They arrived the day after my friends left our house for their weekend visit. Most interesting, also, it was when the COVID-19 stories began to surface in a serious way. We went out to eat on the day they arrived, but after that, the university where I work and which was in spring break mode, began to think about what to do with 20-thousand-plus students. Administration decided to extend spring break one week, and then we’d work on turning all of our classes into a virtual format. Suffice it to say that I have been conducting meetings and teaching schedules in a virtual format called, Zoom (c). It’s been an interesting way to do business.

My mother likes to eat, though she eats very little save sweets and starches. The second night of her visit, I fixed grilled chicken and pesto pasta. I’m still using the 30-plus small containers of pesto that I made last summer from a prolific basil plant. The lovely thing is that pesto, when prepared and frozen properly, looks as green and lovely thawing from teh freezer as the day you put it in. I simply seasoned the chicken thighs with seasoned salt and garlic powder, and grilled until it reaches an internal temperature of 165 degrees F (75 degrees Celsius). I cooked the pasta until al dente and tossed it with thawed pesto. I sprinkled it with a little more Parmesan after I served it. We had a added roasted Brussels sprouts and crusty bread and enjoyed it with a sparkling Cava. My mother mostly ate the bread with lots of butter. Last fall, Dale and I took a sparkling wine and Cava tasting class at K-State’s College of Health and Human Sciences’ Hotel and Hospitality department. It was a good lesson.

Last December when I was home, in Western Colorado, I had noticed a perfect wasps’ nest. I showed it to my step-father and told him all about such wasps (Bald-faced hornet, actually) being the best of architects! Low and behold, unknown to me, he had cut it down and presented it to me as a gift. Please understand that these hornets leave the nests in the cold of winter, but to make sure, I stuck it in the freezer for 24 hours. Then it became a decoration. The nest now hangs from my living room ceiling. Look at its beauty! The queen builds this paper nest going round and round. While she builds the walls, she builds the comb, which will hold the workers. It’s perfect, as many things in nature are.

Interestingly, we discovered a yellow jacket nest in our yard. They build underground, and they are perfect until an opossum came along and tore it out. They like to eat the larvae. That’s another story for another time.

Well, it was a great time with mother. I am 63 years old, and she still feels the need to tell me that I’m cooking wrong, cleaning wrong, and she has opinions about my behavior. She did like the variety of birds feeding at my various feeding stations, so that was entertaining. Here’s another thing that makes mother think that perhaps I was switched at birth with her “real” daughter, because her own daughter would have better sense. While she was visiting, I created my seasonal centerpiece. I found the idea somewhere, but I can’t remember, but the idea is not mine.

Dale drew the horrified faces on the little guys. Well, as always, thank you for reading me.

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