Moosewood

What’s a small moment from your past that you still think about years later?

I still remember my college roommate Ann making an actual meal in our sophomore apartment kitchen circa 1984. I had never done any real cooking growing up, and freshman year we ate every meal in the dining hall. It was a weird feeling to have a kitchen of our own. We were like…adults…and we could be vegetarians if we felt like it.

If you were in college in the 80s and had even a passing interest in eating less meat, you probably owned The Moosewood Cookbook, or borrowed it from a roommate and never gave it back. Mollie Katzen’s hand-lettered, hand-illustrated pages felt more like a friend’s notebook than a cookbook. Everyone made the same few things: a big pot of soup, something with lots of cheese and broccoli, and a very ambitious attempt at a dinner party for six. I still have mine.

Copyright, 1977
Decades later, my son was in college in Ithaca, NY and I finally got to eat in the legendary Moosewood Restaurant in downtown Ithaca.

Their subsequent cookbooks, including “Enchanted Broccoli Forest,” were huge bestsellers, especially among young, liberal, vegetarian types. I bought “New Recipes from Moosewood Restaurant” when it came out in 1987–the year I graduated college. I still have that one too.

Yesterday, my husband asked for my old “Apple Cheddar Cheese Pie” recipe, so I dug it out. It was in the New Recipes cookbook.

This one has typed pages, rather than the hand-illustrated look of the original.
He whipped up this pie while I was working on a painting yesterday.
We had no pre-made pie crusts on hand, so he made the crust too. Impressive, don’t you think?

It came out great. The layer of cheese under the streusel makes this pie feel more like an actual meal. I would not add ice cream to this, but truth be told, my husband did.

Moosewood Restaurant’s Apple and Cheddar Cheese Pie. The last time I made this was at least twenty years ago.
The cheese isn’t really visible, but you can taste it and it’s lovely with the apples and sweet topping.
My roommate Ann (far left) and friends in our first apartment with a kitchen.
Terrible photo of my other roommate (and dear departed friend) grating cheese in that first kitchen. It was probably for a Moosewood recipe. There is lots and lots of CHEESE in Moosewood cookbooks. No meat, but a few fish recipes are included.

Inferiority complex

I have fond memories of two women with whom I studied abroad in fall 1985. We were in Rome.

One woman went to the same college as me and we stayed friends when we got back to our campus in Connecticut. We kept in touch after graduation. For years, she would call me on my birthday. I’d pick up the phone and she’d just say “Ciao Maria” and I knew exactly who it was. She was a bit mysterious and I typically had to wait for her to call me. I rarely had contact info for her. And then, after a number of years, she vanished. No social media profile, no alumni directory info, not on LinkedIn. I really don’t know what happened to her. I miss her sometimes, but whenever I’ve googled her, I come up empty. (I once sent off an email to what I thought might’ve been her work address, but never heard back.)

The other woman was my roommate in Rome. We didn’t go to the same college, but got along great. She went to an Ivy League school and was planning to become a doctor. We did not keep in touch after Rome, but I was always grateful to have had her there with me. Welp, I googled her this week and found out she’s a renowned plastic surgeon with her own skincare line. She’s helped all kinds of people—from burn victims to trans people needing gender-affirming care. She’s got a podcast and does all kinds of great work in the wellness arena too.

I reached out via instagram and she was happy to hear from me. We then texted a bit and I sent her some old photos from our time abroad. Perhaps we’ll get together at some point, but probably not. It’s been over 40 years since I’ve seen her. I had forgotten that two of the other women in the program were friends of hers from high school. She said the three of them “see each other all the time.”

I’m left feeling both completely inferior (a renowned plastic surgeon!) and sad that I lost my real friend from Rome (the one I stayed in touch with for years) while she’s still palling around with her old friends.

Sometimes you should just let the past stay in the past, I guess. Maybe that’s the lesson.

My two “friends for a season” on the right, partying in our convent dorm room in Rome, Italy, 1985.

That’s a wrap

Daily writing prompt
What’s a moment in your life that felt like it was straight out of a movie?

I remember walking around in the airport in Paris—Charles De Gaulle—in December 1985. I was waiting for my flight back to Boston after my semester abroad in Rome. I was listening to my Sony Walkman, which had the songs that had been the soundtrack for the entire semester—Take on Me by A-Ha, Money for Nothing by Dire Straits, 99 Luftballons by the German band Nena.

I was hungover. I was sad. It was the end. Back to America. I knew it was going to be culture shock. So many things had happened that semester—some good, some bad—but all of it was new and exciting. I had traveled through Europe with friends, had a fling with a fellow student who was studying in France, been semi-stalked by an Italian guy, smoked hash and saw Sting perform live, been chased down the street by a very angry nun who was mad I’d let my friend use my roommate’s bed in the convent, been subjected to my first public masturbator (aka “The Jerk”), ordered entire meals in Italian, been awakened on a train by a French security guard who didn’t like my friend’s Filipino passport, got all my clothes destroyed by an Italian laundromat, and seen the most magnificent art and wonders of western civilization from the Mona Lisa to the Colosseum to Pompeii to the Vatican.

Walking through that airport felt like the last scene in a movie—a very 80s movie.

Here I am in Rome in 1985 with my short 80s hair and my friend Scott who was in my program with me. Scott was my close friend Carla’s boyfriend, but she was studying in cold old England for some reason. Girl Code obviously eliminated any chance of a fling with Scott, but he was so cute, right? Look at those legs.

Budapest 1987

I’ve posted a couple times about my trip to the Soviet Union in college. I was with a group of students and history professors. It was a big deal to go “behind the iron curtain” back then, so we prepped for this trip for many months—studying Russian history and learning how to behave in a communist country. (They didn’t want any of us to end up in a Siberian prison camp.)

In addition to stopping in Helsinki (Finland) on the way into the USSR, we stopped in Budapest (Hungary) on the way out. Back then, Hungary was firmly part of the Soviet-aligned Eastern Bloc. And we happened to be there in the immediate aftermath of an epic snowstorm. Other than the snow and total paralysis of transportation on the streets, I remember kind people and one particularly delicious hot meal in a restaurant with some young musicians who gave us a cassette tape of their rock band.

In light of the recent good news that Hungarians dumped their far-right leader Viktor Orbán (a buddy of both Trump and Putin) on Sunday, I dug out my Budapest pics. Google describes Budapest in 1987 like this:

Budapest in 1987 was a city in late-communist Hungary characterized by economic scarcity, socialist architecture, and a quiet, daily struggle, yet it was on the cusp of major political change. The city experienced a historic, paralyzing snowstorm in January 1987 and was designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site that same year.

I’m not in any of these photos, but I took all of them. None are particularly good, but as a group, they give you the vibe.

Fun fact: Budapest is actually two cities—Buda and Pest. In this pic, I’m standing in Buda looking over the frozen Danube River towards Pest. The large domed building on the far side is the Hungarian Parliament in Pest. (Pronounced PESHT)
The famous Fisherman’s Bastion is a fairytale-like, Neo-Romanesque lookout built between 1895 and 1902.
An Aeroflot route map in a Budapest window. (We flew sketchy Aeroflot into Russia.)
My friend Lincoln standing in an alcove in Budapest.
My friend Rob playing a balalaika at the Budapest airport.
Walking was the only option for seeing anything at all while we were there! The city was paralyzed with snow and the authorities really couldn’t deal with it.
Two of our professors at the Budapest airport. The one on the right, Dr. James West, taught Russian history and was one of the best teachers I ever had. He’s one of the reasons I majored in History.

Speaking of wonderful history professors, be sure to listen to Dr. Heather Cox Richardson’s letter from Tuesday that explains the connections between Viktor Orbán and the American right: https://open.substack.com/pub/heathercoxrichardson/p/restore-america-to-its-own-people?r=j2aww&utm_medium=ios

A postcard from Verona

The Winter Olympics end today. And thanks to Alysa Liu and her fellow skaters (but mostly Alysa), they were very satisfying for me. I really enjoyed watching the figure skating “gala exhibition” yesterday, especially the opening with the entire US gold medal team skating together.

Now I know there’s still the little matter of the US v Canada Gold Medal Men’s Hockey game yet to come in about an hour. (I’ll be at church for most of it, but I’m sure my husband will watch intently.)

The last thing I actually care about is the Closing Ceremony in Verona, which starts at 2:30pm EST.

I thought I had been to Verona during my semester abroad in 1985. I had a very vague recollection of wandering around the city thinking about the Montagues and the Capulets. But, unlike Milan, there is no photographic evidence from Verona.

Then I remembered that I started buying postcards, rather than taking pictures, at a certain point during my time abroad. Maybe it was because it was a pain to get film developed and printed in Italy, or maybe I just got tired of always lugging my camera around with me.

Anyhow, I recently located my stack of 41-year old postcards and sure enough there is one from Verona:

The caption means “Verona in the 1800s”

This actually looks like something I would buy if was wandering around thinking about Romeo & Juliet. Very romantic in a 1980s kind of way. Note the shopping bags. This was very much the vibe of a 1980s semester abroad in Italy. We were there to see stuff, buy stuff, meet people, and generally have a good time. Studying was not a priority. Anyone who spent a lot of time studying in their room was missing the whole point of being over there.

So yes, I can confidently say that I have in fact been to Verona when I watch the Closing Ceremony today. (My husband will only be half-listening when I say this, but hey, l’ll only be half-listening while he watches that hockey game.)

Thursday Doors—Milan’s Duomo

With the Milan-Cortina Olympics about to start, we’re going to be seeing many shots of Milan’s iconic Gothic-style Duomo.

This reminds me that I visited Milan in 1985 with my friend Julie during our semester abroad in Italy. We climbed up to the rooftop terraces of the Duomo. Back then, you didn’t need reservations or special tickets to go up.

I love it when photographic evidence of my foggy memories actually exists!

Here’s a photo I took of Julie taking a photo through a doorway atop the Duomo in Milan 40+ years ago. Julie is a great photographer so I’m sure she got a wonderful, artistic shot. But I like my pic too. Her red coat looks cool. And you can see some of the over-the-top decorative elements of the roof. Those endless spires remind me of wet, drippy sandcastles.

Posted for Dan’s Thursday Doors.

Thursday Doors—The Kremlin

It’s fun for me to search the giant folder of pictures on my computer for “door” and see what comes up. It really jogs the old memory.

This pic came up today.

I knew it was from a slide I took in 1987 on a college trip to Helsinki, Budapest and the Soviet Union, but I didn’t know exactly where.

Guess what? ChatGPT identified it immediately as the Dormition (Assumption) Cathedral in the Kremlin, Moscow, Russia.

The distinctive arched doorway with ornate frescoes above it. The icon of the Virgin and Child surrounded by angels and saints. The Romanesque-style columns and arches framing the door.

This specific doorway is the main western portal of the Dormition Cathedral (built by Aristotele Fioravanti in the 1470s), one of the most important churches in Russia and the site of coronations of Russian tsars.

And I do believe ChatGPT is correct because I found this picture in my files as well:

That’s the Kremlin with the Dormition Cathedral—the second cluster of gold domes from the left. The Moscow River (in the foreground) was frozen solid.

I believe this is also inside the walls of the Kremlin. I think it’s Spasskaya Tower, which overlooks Red Square.

There are two possible reasons I do not have more pictures of the Kremlin. Either it was too darn cold and my camera battery froze or our “Intourist” (Communist Party) tour guide wouldn’t let us take photos.

I have a feeling my camera battery froze because I’m not a total rule follower. (I have been known to sneak a photo in forbidden areas.) However, we were warned so severely to not break any rules while in Russia, I may have been “scared straight” as they say.

Here’s a photo of our Intourist Guide Elena receiving some parting gifts from our Russian History professor on the tour bus. Too bad I only got the back of her head.

See, this is why you take pictures people. I had forgotten all of this. I have been to the Kremlin!

Posted for Dan’s Thursday Doors.

Thursday Doors—Trinity College Chapel, Connecticut

My college in Hartford, Connecticut had a spectacular gothic chapel on the quad. So Hogwarts! We were not an Ivy League school, but with that chapel on the quad—and scores of rich classmates from the snootiest boarding schools on the Eastern Seaboard—we could pretend we were. A couple of my more diligent classmates were able to transfer to Ivy League schools after freshmen year, but most of us just stayed and partied in Hartford.

My daughter had absolutely no interest in attending a small, private liberal arts college, but we did stop by one day when we were passing through the area. And the chapel still looked gorgeous.

My daughter in front of my college’s chapel doors in 2013.
The same doors as seen through an arch on the day of my graduation in 1987.

Posted for Dan’s Thursday Doors

Class of ‘87

I have a couple of updates for you on the college class of 1987 (high school class of 1983). Most of us were born in 1965, so we are turning 60 this year. One of my best friends from college turned 60 yesterday. She broke the ice. Now the rest of us will follow…if we’re lucky. Making it to 60 is not a given. We’ve lost people—mostly to cancer, but sudden massive heart attacks have taken down a few of the men.

I appear to be the only grandparent in my college class of about 500, which is wild. A few people still have kids in high school, so I guess we tended to have kids late, but still…it’s a vivid illustration that the birthrate actually has cratered in this country.

Another observation is that people truly do age differently. Some people look 40 at 60, and some look 80. Money seems to be a factor, but not the only one. Most people are still working, but they’re either talking about retirement or saying they will never be able to retire. “Work ‘til I die” is some people’s retirement plan.

There is both a lot of concern—and a fair bit of bragging—about adult children in their 20s. “You’re only as happy as your least happy child” seems to be true. (But if you’re posting an effusive happy birthday message, with multiple pictures, for a 27-year old who doesn’t even use Facebook, you may need to let go a bit.)

Our parents, if we still have them, are very old now. I know of only one other classmate with two living parents like me. More of our mothers are still alive than our fathers.

For the first and oldest official GenXers, the Eighties was our decade. Nobody has quite so many formative memories of those years as we do. Do not challenge us to an 80s trivia quiz, because we will win. And we will also look back on it all with slightly rose-colored glasses. We’ll forget the bad stuff and laugh about that time we ate pot brownies at school and Mr. Ullman’s physics class finally made sense.

I never did see anyone get pizza delivered to a class like Jeff Spicoli, but that would have been amazing.

Fast Times at Ridgemont High came out the summer before our senior year in high school.
My 1984 look
The pizza delivery scene

The next generation

Daily writing prompt
What is your career plan?

I’m retired (I think) and looking forward to becoming a grandmother and doing some meaningful volunteer work. So, I’m going use this prompt to provide an update on the next generation.

I’m extremely pleased to report that my son landed a job! He’s a senior in college and this is his first post-grad position. I’m super proud of him!

The college class of 2024 (high school class of 2020) has not had it easy. They had their senior prom, graduation, senior spring sports seasons, and numerous other rites of passage cancelled due to Covid. In addition, many of them (including my son) took their very first semester of college classes remotely from home. MAJOR bummer is an understatement! His second semester, though not remote, was not at all normal. Masks, testing, and Zoom classes from dorm rooms are not fun. My son got put in isolation for TEN DAYS over Easter because he was exposed to a bus driver who tested positive. (My son never did.)

Sophomore year was somewhat normal and thankfully he had a terrific semester abroad junior year. And now, the famous final scene…the last few weeks of college.

So here’s to these very resilient young people. GenZ is in the house and they are going to do things differently. We’re handing them a broken world, but I have faith that they will improve things in ways we can’t yet imagine.

Cheers 🍻 to my son and the Class of 2024 ❤️