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We've been talking about this for some time. Our good friend Geoff keeps wine. He's got some great reds in his cellar that he's been looking for an opportunity to drink. He and I have been hatching a plan to take the cork out of one and drink it with a bloody piece of red meat. Or a piece of red, bloody meat. Or a piece of red meat, bloody [thank you waiter].
Enter the 1988 Penfolds Grange Hermitage. I thought he might surprise us with a ten or 15 year bottle of Coleraine from the mighty Hawkes Bay. Instead he rocks up with a 20+ year old bottle of what is widely regarded as one of the world's greatest syrahs outside of Bordeaux. "Well this will be interesting" mused Geoff. It'll either be amazing, or after 20 years, it may have lost it."
It was amazing.
After 20 years, I would say it could have gone for another 20. It was youthful. In my days as Sommelier at Petit Lyon back in the 90's, I've served younger French classics like Chateaus: Margaux, Cheval Blanc, Haut-Brion where age was the predominant taste. Not here. I felt kind of guilty drinking it, but Geoff is the kind of wine keeper who sees it as a beverage, not a commodity. "So let's drink it" he says, I'm sick of staring at it".
Sadly I let the side down with the bloody red meat, which was not as bloody as I would have hoped for it - apologies Kent, you trained me better. All I can say is don't trust the meat thermometer. Follow your instincts when it come to doneness (apparently this is an actual word. I tend to think of it as a term celebrity "chefs" use because their command of the King's anglaise is about as interesting as the dishes they slap out to fill a commercial half-hour on cable tv. I'm prepared to be told otherwise and have to admit, food shows have a certain narcotic quality that make it hard to get off the couch and get into the kitchen. Food should not be more fun to watch on the box than it is to cook in your own home, but that's off-topic and I digress). The Dauphinois were al dente and creamy which sauced-up the plate and the rocket salad was peppery enough to match the wine.
Desert was an after thought. I wanted to do a flan, Maria was after chocolate pud. One mis-step follows another alas and instead of calling my trusted mother for her self-saucing choc recipe, I pulled one down from the interweb by Allyson Gofton, which I will never to again.
So, it sounds like the menu could have been a disaster movie set in my kitchen, but to be honest everyone ate their well done steak and made pleasant with it. Desert was really just a formality so we could get to the cognac and stand by the fire (first of the season) and reminisce the future perfect. By the end of the evening we all agreed that the Grange was the real winner - as it should be. An additional bonus is that Maria has discovered Lanson Fils to be her current champagne of choice, thank you Dominic.
It's also nice to update this blog with something other than talk of Ira's operations or Edie's latest escapade. Normal people things like having friends round for some chow is somewhat of a novelty these last months.
Next post I'll tell you about the Latour and Antipodean we drank this weekend just gone.
In vino veritas - it is said
These last couple of weeks have been nothing short of ups and downs. I have now come to accept the concept that life is more than likely going to follow this pattern for some time. I aspire to be the friend, mum and wife who can roll with the punches and exude flexibility and effortlessness in my ability to change tack. I am not like this, I am inherently structured and keen on plans and order! However, my efforts to remain wed to plans are slowly giving way to acknowledgement that rigidity and all the planning in the world just can’t work all the time. Some days we do (perhaps somewhat naively) reach the point of thinking wow, life is beginning to be a little consistent, but then bang- something happens that quickly and swiftly pulls the rug from beneath your feet.Last post Benj updated on Ira’s recovery from surgery. He did so amazingly well for his first major surgery on his head. About 4 days later however, he went down like a tonne of bricks with a temperature nearing 40 degrees Celsius and a definite change in personality- no more squeals and chatter, but more sleep and grizzles. After another stay in hospital we got him home and he has been a very happy boy. Lots of smiles and chatter - however we think he's having trouble with teeth now!
Edie has me fooled a lot lately.
Sometimes I have to stop and stare when she is talking to me- to check that she is really only a 2 year old. She was bouncing around on a chair in the bedroom the other day and threw the clothes that were ‘tidily placed’ on it, on the ground so that she could slide down it’s arm with greater ease. I gave her a look- which she understands instantly, and she chirped back ‘don’t worry mamma, it’s all part of the plan’. I couldn’t knock it really! I just didn’t manage to convince her that the plan should also include her putting the clothes back on the chair after she had finished playing.
She has also been working on her fetish for making beds everywhere and having just a short ‘snooze’ before she gets up to go to work. In addition she likes to drink pretend wine like grown ups and make us all lattes and flat whites. In stark contrast however, when asked what she wants to be when she grows up, she is insistent on the fact that she just wants to be a little girl. Now that is something we like and encourage her to be for as long as she likes.
It is quite a bizarre thing how such a precious little dot can be so onto it in one moment and in the the next, because she is filled with so much excitement and urgency to get her point across- it comes out all wrong. She told me last night that she met Bob the Builder in Australia when she was born. This translates (I think) to a number of things. First, she is very proud of the fact that she was born. Knowing that her little brother was born not so long ago, there are many references and links at the moment to her having done things when she was born. Second, she quite likes Bob the Builder but has never met him and I don’t know if Bob the Builder has been to Australia. Third although Edie hasn’t been to Australia, the Wiggles are FROM Australia- and she has met the Wiggles (well, seen them live as opposed to on tv). I love the way all of this information spins around in her mind and sometimes works to come out just spot on, and other times although proffered up with such conviction, is hilariously mixed up.
Benj and I are so proud of Edie. She is such a caring big sis and although for the most part baby Ira only gets her undivided attention when Mum or Dad are tending to him, we often find little books or toys left for him in his cot. She is also expert in copying me by giving him the odd pat on the back if he’s in need of it and telling him everything is ok. Ira adores her, stares at her with such admiration and chuckles at anything she says or does.
Next goals for Ira are just to enjoy being a baby boy! His fingers have finally healed so no more bandages. We received good news on Friday. He has all the blood vessles and arteries needed to separate the last two middle fingers on each hand. So his next operation will be taking care of that, deepening the web space between his thumb and forefinger, and first round of toe separation if we reach consensus on that. His thumbs grow at right angles basically- so these will also have to be straightened later on. The next hand operation won't be until the end of the year or early next year- so, some welcome respite.
Next goals for Edie- let's see. Nothing but fun family and friends.
I'm so tired, haven't slept a wink
I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink
I wonder should I get up
And fix myself a drink – no, no, no, no
Ira had springs put into the back of his head a little over a week ago.
This is a good thing.
The springs are piece of tensile wire that when in place, keep the sutures in the back of his head from fusing too quickly. With Apert Syndrome the bony plates in the skull tend to grow together prematurely. This forces the brain - as it grows - to go wherever there is room, not necessarily where it should. In Ira's case, this is most places but back. The back of his head is flat, which in turn can cause difficulty for the flow of cranial fluid from the brain into the spinal canal. Pressure at the back of the brain can also mess with the optic nerves, causing blindness in the worst cases.
So, the springs will allow the brain to grow into the back of his head - make for a rounder swede and generally ease pressure upstairs. These are good things.
Unfortunately any trip to the hospital brings possible calamities. Having come out of his operation without problem, Ira came home for just a couple days before developing a fever. A suspected lung infection spiked his temperature to a high 39C (104F for our American peoples). Additional swelling around the head didn't help with our freak-out factor, so we were back in hospital for another week.
So why the John Winston Lennon lyric? You never rest in hospital. I'm blessed that I can sleep through most any carnival, but when your little boy is fevered with springs in his nut, there is no rest - even if you do sleep some -the night Maria stayed she got about 2 hours.
Fortunately after close observation and a clean CT scan, our neurosurgeon Wicks sent us home - folks that tinker with brains tend to favour caution.
So, we're all tired, but thankful to be home.
One bonus about surgeries is that every time Ira comes out he has learned a new trick. For several weeks we've been encouraging cognitive response to vocalese. Bah-bah-bah-bah constantly at feed time. In hospital he finally clicked and has has been saying "blah-blah-blah-blah".
I wonder, is he commenting, or just enjoying his new noise?
Next post will be all about Edie and the hijinx she's been up to while her little brother convalesces.
Well- I got to take Ira in for his twice weekly check on his new fingers this week. He is well known at the Orthopeadic clinic, we are always greeted with ‘Oh it’s Ira!’. We get pretty special treatment and get to see Jane and Bernie(the wounds expert).
His fingers have not healed as well as we hoped. Benj has had the awful task of cleaning and bandaging each day- at which Ira howls, grimaces and cries. It is heartbreaking and I really don’t know how we get through it. Yesterday, Bernie squeezed the tips of his fingers and he screamed blue murder, went bright red, then purple and then the screaming subsided into sobs. It is the hardest thing I have yet to experience as there is nothing I can do to make it alright. His eyes are searching for relief and all you can do is tell him how good and brave he is. He gets through one excruciating experience- and then we’re dealing to the next hand. I hate this part- and just hope with all my heart that it will be some of the worst experiences he will go through.
He is scheduled for the first operation on his head on the 23rd of April! We are afraid that because he has a cold, this might interfere. Lots of warm clothes and heating for now.
This Easter holiday we were lucky to be able to attend the O’Reilly family reunion! What a blast- seriously, we had so much fun. Mum being one of 8 has a rather large family who we don’t get to see enough of. So, we made the trip up to Taranaki, first road trip with both Ira and Edie in the back, car FULL of everything- and- the kitchen sink, and off we set. The one good thing about Ira still getting his milk through the tube, was that we could just hook him up with his feeds as we were driving. This didn’t entirely avert the need to make stops for stretches and ‘treats’ for little Edie Birdie however.
New Plymouth was lovely- the mountain served to blast a chill through the evening air- and we probably contributed to Ira’s cold turning to a cough- but all in the name of family and fun. Edie loved playing with her cousins and we just loved catching up with my aunts and uncles, wives, husbands, sisters, children, grandchildren, friends. We sang two nights away around a huge bonfire and had the privilege of cousin Eug putting on a gig into the wee hours. It was just a special time, hard to leave.
Hooray- some new gear! We finally got ourselves organised and bought some new toys. Ira's new waka is an Exersaucer which he seems to really enjoy taking for a spin. We also got a special Bumbo seat which should help with his sitting up. He's come alive with these new playthings! Now, if Edie would just let him actually use them, he'll be sussed.
That's all from me
Maria
I'm seventy-three! the patriarch proudly exclaimed. I think this end of his tally has finally offered him time to enjoy himself with a relaxed sense of purpose. Retirement suits him - for the first time, he's discovered he can say "no" if he doesn't want to be somewhere or do something. True to form however, Grandpa rarely says no. Our garden is a testament to his generosity with his time.
Two birthdays last week, Grandpa and Edie & Ira's cousin Aaron who is rocketing through his early teens. Seems like he's been a teenager for years, but it turns out he's only been there for a year now. In this family it's always the choice of the birthday boy or girl to set the menu for the inevitable family dinner. Last Monday we went for it with the all the family favourites from my childhood. Grandma's meatloaf, potatoes au gratin, other stuff involving leaves and finished with Grandpa's all time number one - Pineapple upside-down cake. By special permission, I've included Grandma's meatloaf recipe at the end of the post.
Birthdays aside, it's been a crazy few weeks. Ira's syndactyly release was three weeks ago and his casts finally came off this week. To give you the quick 20, Aperts kids always have webbed fingers and toes, called Syndactyly. The severity of the webbing can vary from extra skin between the digits to "mitten fingers" where the bones are fused together inside what look, obviously, like mittens. Ira has the latter, so it was a tricky operation lasting about six hours to release the bones of his index and pinky fingers and graft skin from his groin between each. They have to do this procedure in two steps - three months from now he'll have the middle digits separated and potentially his toes also.
Unfortunately over the weekend the casts around his hands began to pong. On Saturday it was a bit like clam chowder, but by Sunday, more like lobster bisque - but not in a pleasant way. Monday it was just rank, so I took him in to get the bandages around the fingers changed. Lucky save it turns out - the gauze packed between his fingers had slipped away and the grafts were at risk. The fine folks in the fracture clinic had his casts off in minutes and our orthopedic surgeon was through the door. It was as if somebody had hit the panic button - everyone dropped what they were doing and can running - full court press. After a clean-up, things were looking a lot better and our surgeon was happy to have new casts put on.
With those casts now off, it's up to us to change his bandages and pack between his fingers with gauze too keep the grafts from sticking together. To date we've coped with inserting feeding tubes down his throat, suctioning nasal stents and squeezing salve on his eyes to keep them moist - he sleeps with his eyes open a lot due to shallow eye sockets - but this is the first time we've needed to attend to open wounds. The packing between his fingers is fiddly and frustrating, especially when he's crying and frustrated, mostly due to our learner's chops in home healthcare.
Well, he's coping, so that's a blessing. The gardens are looking good thanks to grandpa. Edie is keeping us all busy with constant stories and the unique perspectives on things that only a two year old can - she came with me to the market gardens this morning and was most instructional on what to get: grapes, grapes and grapes. Wouldn't eat the dim sim but.
It's been raining a bit, and I picked up some choice lamb shanks at the market, so they've been braising all afternoon. Think I'll turn them out with puy lentils, whipped potatoes and green beans. If it works out, I'll post the procedure next week. Speaking of savouries:
Jude's All Time Best Meatloaf Ever, and that's no lie
1 egg
1 packet onion soup
1/4c rolled oats (best to use instant porridge style)
big glug or two of ketchup
heavy splash of Worchestershire sauce
about 1T mustard (Dijon or American or whatever you have handy)
salt/pepper to taste
500g ground beef
breadcrumbs
Mix all except beef and breadcrumbs into a loose paste. Run ground beef in with your hands. When thoroughly combined, massage into a loaf-shape and place on a roasting dish or skillet. Sprinkle with breadcrumbs and jam in a medium oven (180C/350f) for about 45 mins.
Let it rest for at least ten minutes before slicing or you may find it crumbles before reaching the plate. Serve with whatever you feel like and any leftovers make equally rewarding sandwiches.
Until next time.
Hello, is there anybody in there? good.
For some time, I've thought the practice of blogging is best left to others. I like to read some, have some favourites, but never felt the need to own my own. Recently this has changed. Things seem to happen quickly lately, I fear the memories might lapse or the facts will get filed in some far rarely accessed pocket of grey matter. For you, dear readers, I guess this is where you can come follow the journal of Berryman - should you care to.
So by way of introduction, we'll go youngest first.
Ira. In his short six months, the Mighty Ira Charles has been through more than most. He has Apert syndrome, which in brief is an irregularity in the way his bones grow. Head grows up instead of out; face around the eyes, nose and upper jaw is slow to advance; has mitten/webbed fingers and toes (syndactyly) - it goes on. Aperts brings with it all sorts of challenges: restricted nasal airways (blocked nose); oral-gastric feeding (tube down throat); stiff or fused joints - again, it goes on. Almost monthly, he's has had one of our nation's finest health practitioners poke, prod, monitor, cut, slice, saw, stuff, scrape or graze their way through and around his beautiful little body and there'll be more to come.
He is the strongest person I know and I'm certain he will feature heavily in this blog.
Edith. Our first-born is two and a half and precocious as all get-up. She happily narrates her way through the day, conducting events around the house like a master of ceremonies. She has a very clear picture of how things should be and happily tells you so - "No daddy! mamma is going to: read me the story / cut up the peach / take me to the park / put my shoes on" Dads are chopped liver at this age and stage. By all accounts when she starts wanting money, dad is number one. I figure I've got about 12 years of downtime to work up the old "Don't spend it all in one store" line, then a couple more for the "So kid, you've come to take my little princess to the dance, come in, sit with me a while" speech.
Edie is a constant crack-up and the funniest person I know.
Maria is mamma. At the start of this year we switched roles, Maria going back to work as an employment lawyer at Luke, Cunningham & Clere here in Wellington. It's fair to say she's loving being back in the zone at work, but equally wishing she could be home with Ira, especially as he faces his first major operations over the next few months.
So, that leaves me. Stay at home dad, domestic goddess, janitor and most importantly Ira's hombre piquante.
Whilst I'm voicing this blog, I can assure you that direction will be received from Maria, so if you wish to post comments, have a query, what-have-you, please consider this a family blog. She will likely be responding to you anyway.
PS: the cat is Nero, the whippet is Lilybiscuit.
See you in a week.
