A Treasure of Mushrooms

We all have our own versions of treasure---grand, expensive, shocking---simple and delightful and giddy.  I've got millions of both kinds!  Hearing my grandchildren giggle out loud...that spontaneous gaspy giggle where they throw their heads back and have no control...I LOVE that the most of all treasures.  I love living where you sometimes HAVE to wear hiking boots.  I love old cats napping in the sun.  I love having big cases of whatever fruits or vegetables I can think of!

Bianca once said that she wanted to be a jewelry designer so that she could have bowls of loose rubies and emeralds, diamonds and sapphires.  She'd run her fingers through them and luxuriate in having too much of a great thing.  I would enjoy that too and hoped she'd make that happen someday!  My mother loves mushrooms, so for her October birthday, I'd go to the farmer's market and get pounds of every kind of wild mushroom they were selling.  I'd arrange them in piled up rows, in a huge blonde tray basket lined with brown paper.  My Mom would enjoy cooking and eating mushrooms without any feeling of running short.  I think that's key---having so much of that thing that you can just explore and revel! 

This morning, I'm reveling in mushrooms, and wish my mom were here.  I'm making mushroom omelettes for our Sunday brunch and while I'm chopping the oyster and cremini mushrooms, I have enough  of everything that I can pick out the tiny shitakes and throw them in whole.  They're so witch-y looking with their tipped caps and thin stems!  I usually cut things in bite-sized pieces, (as the aunt/mom/grandmother of so many babies) but today, people are going to find those cute little crazy witch-y looking shitake mushrooms in their omelettes and have a moment of giddy!

"I got the green light. I got a little fight. I'm gonna turn this thing around!"

The glory in this thing is an illusion most of the time. When people ask what I do, they gasp at the answer and very often, comment that I am living their dream. Whoa-wee. This is most often the opposite of a dream! Mine isn't that usual "restaurant business" complaint I've always heard of though. For me, (I worked for the Marines for nearly 20 years---there is no harder job---I LOVE the Marines, by the way...)...it's the economy, of course. If we would just break even for a little while, I'd be resting easy. I take solace in the fact that my boat is crowded with nearly everybody on earth right now! Actually, I've got blessings to count all day long. These past two weeks, I've been counting Burning Man.

Burning Man is our big deal here in northern Nevada. The festival sold out this year, at 50,000 tickets and we had people flying in from 30 countries. They flooded our sleepy city with joy and energy and money! They ate here in record numbers before blowing out to the desert for a profound week of art and humanity at it's best. As dusty after-burners, they came back through for breakfast and lunch. Tired, but all joy and energy and money! We'll be washing the playa dust off the floor for awhile, but I'm restored in my vision here.

I'm Hungarian and Croatian, too. Tough people. Great food. Creative vision. As I drove home over the Donner Pass late Monday night, the words of a song on the radio---the title above---struck me and cleared my resolve to ignore the times. I can beat this. I can change up my menu, change my prices, lure people in, enchant with creamy cumin salad dressing, I can make it happen...count on me. Period.

The road here from Sacramento is all uphill. My view on Monday night was the black silhouette of pine against a black star-spangled sky! That's what you get with uphill around here! "I got the green light. I got a little fight. I'm gonna turn this thing around!"