You-Can-Do-It Bread!

My parents, who were born and raised on the westside of Los Angeles, moved to Santa Barbara a year and a half ago. They purchased a home near us where they knew they could have a lovely garden, and chickens, far from the craziness of westside traffic, where driving has become a sport for some, and almost war-like for others.

But in order to have the garden and those chickens, they had to make their home live-able. With no bedrooms on the ground floor, they embarked on a remodeling adventure that still isn’t over!

So close, though.

For all of this time they’ve lived virtually out of a suitcase, but just last week the final round of their things from storage arrived. What a big task, to sort and question, and figure out how to make this new home theirs, and what to do with all the Stuff!

To encourage them, we’ve been having them to our home for meals for these 18 months–not every night, but often. And though their home isn’t quite finished, we decided to barbecue at their place to mark the progress of it being Almost Done! My dad is a breadmonger, being a baker and all, and he really doesn’t eat a meal without a piece of bread near his plate. So I mixed up a batch of country French–a blend of white flour, freshly ground kamut, and rye, with some sourdough starter thrown in for flavor. We toted it over to their place, then I took the loaf for a quick tour of their new home. The real housewarming will come when the landscaping is done and all the furniture is placed, but here’s a glimpse into their current world–mess and stuff and all. (Made complete by the visiting neighbor dog, Puppy, who literally roams where she likes and spends at least half her day inspecting the workers and their work…)

IMG_4588 IMG_4589 IMG_4591 IMG_4592 IMG_4593 IMG_4599Cheers, friends!



Banana Bread for Breakfast

(You have to admit, bananas are a lot more fun to look at–and to hoist onto the shoulders of playmobil soldiers–than banana bread…)


My parents have just moved into a new house, in a new town (our town!), after having grown up in one place, the same place that their parents grew up in. ┬áIn the last few weeks they’ve cleaned out closets, scrubbed floors, directed movers, signed papers–so many papers–given away gads and gads of things, explained their thoughts to their friends, been begged not to leave, and left all the same.


Here they are. And they will be in flux for a long while, with their new house already under construction, and most of their things in storage. And my dad–all he really wants–is to rush down to the feed shop and buy some chickens.


We had them over for dinner, because it’s important that they eat in the midst of all this flux. And while dinner was cooking, banana bread was baking, because I knew they needed breakfast the next morning and all they had in their makeshift kitchen was grape juice and pickles.

I am extremely excited to live in the same town as my generous parents. They really are the epitome of giving people and there is much that I can learn from them. Since I was 18 I’ve been on the move, living in Europe, and in the Bay Area, and in Colorado. What a treat to have such beautiful people right down the street!

My dad was a baker by trade, so I’ll let you know what he thinks of my bread, since he’ll have more occasions now to try it now. But the banana bread, whether it was good or not, it was fun to send them home to their new rooms, their new house where the chickens will eventually reside, and know that at least they’d have something for breakfast.