Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Here Comes the NEW Olive Oil Book with Surprises!

By Cal Orey

Discover Olive Oil's Extraordinary Powers!
Revised and updated, this indispensible book reveals why chefs, doctors, and nutritionists all love extra virgin olive oil, a key ingredient in the Mediterranean Diet--and why other healthful oils from vegetables, fruits, and nuts are not far behind. You'll find easy recipes for satisfying foods like Pizza Baguettes with Garlic Oil, Fudgy Coconut Oil Brownies, Honey-Citrus-Olive Oil Fruit Kabobs, and Macadamia Nut Oil Cookies. Also included: home cures that beat colds and reduce pain, beauty and household secrets, and pet care tips that really work!
Pre-order by clicking your mouse right here
 Deliciously healing surprises. ...
The art of using olive oil for mind, body, and spirit goes back 6,000 years. Hippocrates, "the father of medicine," used olive oil in over 60 healing remedies.
New research confirms that olive oil can help lower the risk of heart disease, cancer, and type 2 diabetes, and it can stall age-related diseases.
Combining olive oil with other oils (like coconut and macadamia nut oils), can help combat fatigue, infections, and insomnia, and help you fight fat and shape up!
Bring on the butter--especially the right kind and right amount. When paired with oils, this twentieth-century "forbidden" saturated fat is a new twenty-first-century health food.
"Orey gives kudos to olive oil--and people of all ages will benefit from her words of wisdom." --Dr. Will Clower, CEO Mediterranean Wellness

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

California Food Author--Canada Dreamin'

By Cal Orey

Vancouver Downtown-my dream coming true! 
then to  charming Victoria B.C.
 (after a Jan. 10  Seattle 
Barnes and Noble 
book discussion/signing)
Today. Tuesday, marks one month since my out of country trip to Quebec, Canada. I'm over the post-travel blues but I've got finding a new, improved adventure on the brain.  In September it marks a time in my life that I left my fear of the unknown at home and experienced life...

Autumn at Lake Tahoe but craving Canadian adventure

I left my fur kids, flew a long distance all by myself (munching on purple grapes and cheddar cheese, gabbing with fellow passengers, including a passionate doctor (who confided in me about her marriage) and generous attorney (claimed he didn't have a fear of flying but Bach and drinks seemed to be his remedies), both from Georgia; was grilled by a no-nonsense young, Canadian customs agent who asked me: "Do you have pot?"--and was on a mission to irk me; stayed in a 28th floor hotel room (which I arrived at 2:00 A.M. after traveling 3000 miles) and wasn't scared to be all by myself; survived a fearless cabbie whom drove 100 mph; and I learned that I can trust a hotel safe for money and passport.
In the dark, cold morning air I will always remember how I sprinted solo, clad in warm clothing with mittens, scarf, and a hat, on a downtown street and caught the 6:15 early (business class) train to Quebec City, and not to forget a spontaneous horse and carriage ride in the French-speaking town of Old Quebec. Whether it was "rough air" on the plane or weathering 10 degrees on September 18 when I awoke--I did it. And I'm ready to go do it all over again.
Rural Quebec en route to Quebec City

City Room view that'll cherish
I miss Quebec City and the French speaking people
HOME AT LAKE TAHOE... Living at Lake Tahoe I realize my life is isolated and lacking excitement. I miss the city life (as I had going to S.F. State University) and new experiences. Fifteen years ago, it was my dream to leave the San Francisco Bay Area, move to the mountains and make the transition from magazine journalist to book author. Done. Now I feel I want to spread my wings. I'm not sure if it's the fact that I want to move to Canada or just flirt with the different provinces as I did in my early 20s. Now, via phone as an intuitive reader for the networks, I can tell if a caller is from Canada. It's not an accent, though, it's an air of sophistication that I can pick up 95% of the time. And I love my Canadian clients from all the provinces (yes, I can sense which ones, too).

I've settled in during the days and weeks and it's been a challenge. The firewood arrived and is stacked in the garage. The chimney cleaner is coming tomorrow at 9:00 A.M. I wanted to return to my swim routine but today's report is the resort pool is cold. Too cold for tourists or locals.
Lattes and shopping were part of the city life; I have a
cross necklace and black and red checkered jacket
from Quebec City; a black leather purse and navy
infinity scarf from Montreal
It was bliss to wake up naturally with a city view of Montreal--I felt like a princess--and to grab the phone for room service. I'd rang up a Gaufre/Waffle. Translation: a large waffle with hand whipped cream, Quebec maple syrup, powdered sugar, and fresh strawberries; and a carafe of coffee. Back home, on Sunday morning, I did whip up homemade organic chocolate chip pancakes and a pot of of mocha flavored coffee. It was comforting but not Quebec syrup.

Hot organic pancakes at home
I should have stayed longer in QC
Yes, it was sublime with my warm fur children amid me.  The clock(s) do chime as the I heard in Quebec City, the place with a European vibe. 

At Tahoe, my new earthy, chocolate brown blinds are up and make me feel cozy. Pumpkin spice candles are everywhere next to baskets of pine cones. The pine trees outdoors are showing vibrant hues of yellow and red. It's Mother Nature at work. But something is missing for me here in Northern California. I yearn to click my mouse and; book a flight to another city in Canada, somewhere different.

BRITISH COLUMBIA, I AM COMING TO YOU... Years ago, I did go to Vancouver. It was a weekend trip with a friend. I fell in love with the city but wasn't thrilled with my controlling traveling partner. I vowed to return alone. I have chosen the flight plan, pondering the hotel to befriend and sights to see and I forecast it is likely I will take the trip before 2015 arrives.

Meanwhile, I sit here next to two dogs and a cat. I look at my treasures: A Via Rail ticket stub,  a greeting card to my hotel room (with memories of a fruit basket gift from the manager) and kind words: Nous vous souhaitons un excellent sejour et une magnifique visit a Montreal! And indeed, I did have a great stay and a wonderful visit in their lovely city... It's getting close to that time when I book another flight--the West Coast of Canada; I hear you calling my name... Unless I can find a big aircraft that will land in Toronto.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Coping with the Post-Travel Blues

I want the happiness aura of a pre-trip
By Cal Orey
Framed art of Montreal in my dining room

Black and white framed in my study
I admit it. More than once or twice during my September trip to Quebec City, Canada I fell victim to homesickness. One man boarding the plane heard me say I was from Lake Tahoe. He quipped, "Why are you going to Quebec?" He had a point (why leave paradise, a world-renowned resort town) but both mountains and city life have their good points-- I let the comment fly into air as we separated. And the breathtaking city view(s) I savored each day and night were well worth getting the best of both worlds: The slow-paced isolating sierras and fast French-speaking city.
A fellow passenger in SLC asked
why I was fleeing Lake Tahoe

In my hotel room late at night after being on the go adventure-seeking all day, there were times I missed my fur kids. On the upside: It was amazing to hog the entire king bed and not have to get up at 5:00 A.M. each morning to let the dogs eat and do their outdoor business.  Still, separated from the cuddly, warm dog duo and my beloved Siamese kitty was on my mind. I was feeling the blues. One time at a gift shop I almost bought a stuffed dog that looked like my Aussie (but it was a Siberian Husky and I snapped out of my desperate purchase). I missed Skye's fluffy, big white paws.

Coming home to Zen was zen-like
I'M HOME. NOW WHAT?: When I arrived at South Lake Tahoe the first night was heaven. It was me and the cat Zen. Sleep was heavenly in the cozy and clean waterbed complete with comforters.
While the hotel I stayed at did sport four stars the bed was nothing like my own sanctuary. In the morning I fantasized about having an awesome reunion with my young Australian Shepherd and senior Brittany when I came home. We picked them up separately sensing the excitement would be overwhelming. top. It's like no time passed. True, the boys got extra walks, brushings, teeth cleanings, nail trimmings, and well--gosh, they were at doggie spa. So, there were no Kodak moments. The dogs came home and it was like I never left. Caveat: Skye did have a little accident on my bed on night two (one time only). Was he marking or making a statement for me not to go away again? Only the dog god knows for sure. I choose two.
Service dogs stole my limelight at B&N

GETTING RESTLESS, PACKING MY BAGS: In my 20s, when I hitched and hiked with a dog around the country and Canada I'd come back to California, again and again. But I'd soon get the drive to go somewhere else and I did just that. Fast forward decades later, it's a bit different due to more roots. But I'm restless and hardly alone with my feeling down.  I did take in a movie, walk the dogs, savor the lake and trees but I've been here doing that for 15 years. 
Before and after the next getaway (it's not an if but when), I'll be going away on short trips to Sacramento and Reno: A guest at Barnes and Noble bookstores for signings for my past and new books. But it's work and not enough.
New fantasy to revisit for reality
About ten times I found a perfect flight plan and hotel to Vancouver and a few times to Toronto--almost clicked my mouse but I hesitated due to the chaos of new Ebola screenings at airports, eerie flight surprises (i.e., "cosmetic" problems with a flight from SFO to hazmat workers removing  an"idiot" passengers), and more of the unknown. 
My prediction is that more than likely (80% odds) I will book a trip to Canada in the upcoming weeks. I've been to three provinces and want more.  I have lasting images of people and places I experienced--much better than a new stainless steel fridge or used hot tub (although these would be nice); the fridge would get smudges and I'm probably mess up on the chemicals in the water. But a trip back to Canada will give me new dishes to cook, more photos to print, frame and hang--and will allow me to feel alive not just hot or cold for minutes like big ticket items.
My room was like this on the 28th floor

Vancouver may be my next final destination
GIVING MY CABIN FRENCH FLAIR: I did add ivory flannel sheets and a duvet cover to my bed complete with a bed scarf like I enjoyed in the hotel room with Mediterranean flair. The framed black and white art piece of Montreal arrived and added class to my dining room stuffed with books and magazines I've penned for years. The cross on my neck, need to get another French manicure, infinity scarves, smokey eyes (done right) are part of my new, improved look. And my photos of Quebec in the living room on the fireplace mantle make me smile and feel more worldly. 

So, as the firewood is stacked in the garage, the earthy brown colored blinds are now up in the living room, clocks chime on cue like in Quebec City, pumpkin spice candles fill the air, and chocolate chips cookies will be baked tomorrow, I feel at home. Still, I am busy filling my brain with thoughts and fantasies of planning the next Canada trip that'll give me that bounce in my walk, a genuine smile on my face, and a reason to get up in the morning. Perhaps it's the grilled cheese sandwiches, purple grapes, coffee and gourmet chocolate (two friends to beat jet lag) that remind me I need to feel warm and fuzzy somewhere else in Canada, a place I visited when I was young and makes me feel youthful again. A boat ride, and flying to a faraway place is the remedy that will fix my longing for more and take me out of my comfort zone again, a place I need to be.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

The Dream--Taking the Train to Quebec City

By Cal Orey
 Quebec City--Coffee, Pastries, French Canadians, 
and Down-to-Earth Warmth 
Made a Lasting Impression on My Mind & Spirit

In retrospect, for decades I've experienced a vivid and surreal dream. Each time I am solo on a train (without people) moving Northeast amid a lush forest--it has a "Twilight Zone"-ish feel to it. At times after awakening I linked it to my past travels hitchhiking from California to Florida northbound to Quebec--a province I was not ready to face and I didn't visit more than a few hours. After dealing with Montreal culture shock--at 21--I fled to Toronto, Ontario (it was more Americanized to me) but knew I'd return one day to Quebec and Quebec City when I was more mature, more ready to deal with French-speaking people, and an intense city. It was my plan to be more self-reliant rather than relying on my thumb and people to flag down rides...

Since I went to QC I haven't had the dream of me on
this train
traveling Northeast
LEAVING ON A JET PLANE TO THE "PLANE TRAIN"...Fast forward to mid-September 2014. I finally left my cozy and safe cabin (minus coyotes, bears, quakes, wildfires, winter snow, and flooding) in the sierras and headed out of the country. I did love the "Plane Train" at the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport
--a subway to cover ground and make a flight connection, more fun than moving walkways at larger airports. This time I came prepared: A passport, four star hotel reservation, layered clothing, and funds--no panhandling this time around. Still, a hippie chick but dog-less (both my boys were in the kennel) I left my fears in California and headed towards Quebec City--my final goal. 

After I arrived in Montreal I knew that I was closer to my fantasy Oz--much like Dorothy--in the sleepy daze--in the field before she arrived at Emerald City.  After a few days, on Friday I was up at 5 A.M.--on time to walk in the dark (it was close to the hotel) to the train station and catch a real-life 6:15 A.M. train ride to  Quebec City. The comfy business lounge for traingoers was more than awesome. All types of coffee--lattes to gourmet java drinks--as well as high-end mags, newspapers, bottled drinks, pastries and more were available at no cost. (Well, you are charged when you pay for your ticket.) As noted in my last post, I was nursing a "French Kiss" film-like case of lactose intolerance from the cheese incident the night before and passed on the goodies. I did snag a can of ginger ale and made my way downstairs to catch the train (reminding me of my SFSU commute days).
Once moving--it hit! This was my dream come true. The train and trees were what I envisioned in my dream. However, years ago, I did not have the money to take a train let alone know one existed to take me to the city. I did sleep in the cold, dark forest, though, with my dog. And this time around while I missed my canine companions, past and present, I felt warm and fuzzy fulfilling my traveling fantasy with French words filling the air. I passed on the vegan breakfast (pre-ordered) and accepted an antacid from the train staff.  Rarely do I get heartburn unless I devour a well-meaning and generous chef's special high-fat fare after 7 P.M. (which I did). 
I rode in business class--it wasn't full like my dream. It was calm, cozy, and inviting. One Italian-looking businessman was working on his laptop (I chose to go off the grid). He treated the female staff like Stepford Wife goddesses so no love connection on the train. Passing by tiny towns and rural regions made me think: "I should have come straight to Quebec City for the week--not Montreal." It was earthy. It was serene. It was more me.  I had one day to savor the place and that was doable, sort of.

Gare du Palais is a train and bus station in Quebec City
served by Via Rail
GOOD MORNING, QUEBEC CITY! After three hours I arrived at Quebec City--my final destination. No turbulence or derailed train like I imagined. It was cold. Clad in sweaters, jeans, T-shirt(s), a wool neck scarf, mittens, and boots I was warm. But another glitch hit.  My eyes were attacked by a stylish smokey eye make-up I used making me look like a tired party raccoon from my home at Lake Tahoe. My eyes were red, inflamed and watery...

Adored my city room view and Mediterranean decor
The night before, I called hotel room service for SOS. Did you know for $300 you can get a one-on-one room doctor call?  I received a phone call from the M.D.  We agreed it wasn't a multi-dollar ER visit but cold compresses were doctor's orders. In the morning, I was better but my eyes were wet, similar to grad school when they were bloodshot and dry due to over use, but this time it was reverse--puffy like I had been crying for eternity.  So I needed a remedy to see Quebec City...

DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?...  I was in a French-speaking province (more than 90%) and while Quebec City has bi-lingual locals, English-speaking tourists, the vast majority of people I ran into spoke only French. That said, I was on a mission in another world to find a pharmacy who could read me. One cabbie later (broken English) I was brought to a compassionate, semi-bi-lingual pharmacist who led me to over-the-counter help. Cortisone cream and a non-drowsy type pill to dry up my eyes was the Rx. I was cursing the maker of the eye make-up and praising the French Canadian medicine doctor. By noon while feeling a bit off (the drug was strong), my bloodshot eyes were on the mend and I was ready to see what I could see.

COFFEE, COFFEE, COFFEE...Once I sipped a latte, I was feeling normal in a new city. I ended up in the old town area, a busy tourist trap-- cobblestone streets, bistros, and shops--much like Fisherman's Wharf at S.F.--probably not the place I should have been but I did make the best of it. I purchased a cross necklace (this was a challenge since the merchants spoke minimal English), and a thick black and red checkered hooded jacket sporting a small Canada flag on a pocket. A perfect find for cold fall/winter Tahoe days. The soothing sound of church bells outdoors reminded me of the pair of chime clocks I adopted for my cabin. And I was feeling kind of homesick...

Quebec City scene away from tourists 
It was a big horse that caught my attention--a four-legger like my canines--and he rescued me. I sprung for a pricey 45 minute ride--it was worth it to keep me grounded and see the sights of the foreign city. The driver, I discovered, did not own my horse friend but wish she did. She was aloof, a tad masculine, and before I saw it coming (I know, if I were psychic I would have known) I was being worked for more money...
The driver's dog story got the extra tip--
I missed my fun-loving pooch
As the story goes, it was a corporation she worked for that only dished out minimum wage. Read: She lives on tips and was having a difficult time making ends meet. I told her "no worries" and settled up to enjoy the ride. Karma, due to my tales on the road for food and money.  In her thirties (but the outdoors did seem to take a toll on her age), she told me tales of woe living in Quebec City. She did not like her job, nor the minus 35 degree winters and snow for six months a year.  I could feel the big chill--which we need here in our drought--stricken Golden State. Her dog from the pound was leashed outdoors all day, she said, while she and her partner worked the horse and carriage gig.  Soon, I was giving her a  free "psychic" reading to uplift her spirits (and mine) and wishing I could escape with the horse with no name--and hug my dog(s). 

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Waking Up in Montreal was Bliss

By Cal Orey
My fear of flying didn't exist with big aircraft, first class
It's been more than one long week since I've returned from my trip to Quebec.  While I anticipated challenges, including "rough air" to staying in a hotel room on a high floor and riding a train to a French-speaking city and dining alone in a restaurant--I passed each fear factor, one after the other. It was like I got in a time machine and went back in time to when I was 21--a wanderlust without worries. It was bliss. I had no anxieties, no phobias. I was ready for adventure--any kind.
Montreal's Cathédrale Marie-Reine-du-Monde--
the green building--is Quebec's third largest church 

Waking up in Montreal:  After the sobering grilling in the Canada Customs room; and grabbing a cab to downtown with a cabbie who drove 100 mph, I was exhausted from getting up at 1:30 AM, PST and arriving in the province at 2:00 AM EST. Once in my hotel room on the 28th floor at the Marriott, I felt that part of my trip was accomplished. After all, I made it: One cab, a shuttle bus to Reno-Tahoe International Airport, Salt Lake City, Atlanta, and to my destination--Canada. So we're talking 3000 miles in a day. Yes, in many ways it was easier than hitchhiking across the country with a dog. My canines were safe in a kennel with pampering. Missing my fur boys--two dogs and a cat--whom I sleep with every night, I plopped onto the cold bed and fell asleep.

The city streets differ from rural roads in
the sierras
Jet Lag to French Greetings. At home my dogs awake me at 5:00 AM to be fed and do their business. On Wednesday morning I slept in until 11:45 A.M. Instead of staggering out into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee, I grabbed the phone and called room service. It was my fantasy to order blueberry waffles but I decided on a grilled cheese on whole wheat bread with tomatoes (the first time they were AWOL on my fave comfort food wherever I am) French fries, and coffee. It was lunch time. I never had experienced "jet lag" so I discovered it is real. But it wasn't too bad even though I was all alone in a big, strange city.

In the late afternoon I left my room and took a walk to a large drugstore to purchase things I didn't have on hand. (i.e., My reading glasses broke on the Utah flight. The passenger next to me--an attorney from Georgia--taped them for me, a nice gesture but his gift for gab was more welcome. In Atlanta at one of the largest airports in the nation I purchased a new pricey pair--not the correct strength. Note to self: Always bring two pair of glasses.)  
Living in a mountain town for 15 years, I forgot about fashion. Women in Montreal much like San Francisco (where I went to school) are fashionable and quickly I pondered a French manicure, playing up my smoky eye make-up, learning how to really wear a scarf, and happy that my skinny jeans, over-sized sweater, and combat boots didn't look out of place. Being called "madam" was refreshing and flirty Frenchmen and cold Frenchwomen were amid my new environment. It wasn't too long before I learned the game and gained a harder shell. The younger females were warm and friendly; it is mostly the older women with a masculine edge that seemed to sport attitude. No wonder the men (all ages) had wandering eyes.

The Pool:  I missed the resort swimming pool I swim at and sauntered into the pool room at the hotel. The hot tub was down but the pool was up. I was too tired to think laps but I engaged in a conversation with a young Italian lifeguard. She was fun, intelligent, and made me feel at home. 
I should have swam but the vibe was off, not like
my hometown resort pool at 7:30 am

After chatting the jet lag was overwhelming (coffee lattes became my best friends) so I returned to my room with a promise to be normal on Thursday. When I turned on the TV (I broke the promise of going off the grid), it was surreal. The picture of the Northern California King Fire just 100 miles from my home at Lake Tahoe greeted me. Here, I was looking for adventure but it was happening on the West Coast. And folks in Quebec seemed out of touch like my burning Golden State was a foreign planet.

Chocolate befriended me at the mall
From Underground to Up in My Room: Watching the news, cuddling up on the bed and missing my home I felt homesick but happy--craving to be on the West Coast in California, sort of, yet excited to be on the East Coast in Canada. Thursday my mind and body would be back on track...It would be the day I'd visit the train station to get my ticket for Quebec City on Friday; the perfect time to do mingle with the people at Montreal's Underground City (officially RÉSO or La Ville Souterraine in French) including shopping malls. 
When I came to Montreal decades ago, the underground city frightened me. This time around it was elating. It felt good to be alone, away from day-to-day pesky worries and woes. I had gone back in time. I was the carefree hippie chick on my own in a faraway place--and it made me feel free and disconnected. Happiness.

Friday, September 26, 2014

Coffee and Scones in Canada to the Sierras

Autumn Scones 
from Montreal to LakeTahoe

By Cal Orey

It’s the first week of fall and change is in the morning air around the South Shore at Lake Tahoe. Recently, I returned from a trip to Canada.  Ten degree mornings and pumpkins lined up in front of shops on cobbled streets greeted me as I walked up and down the streets in Quebec City.  I admit a horse and carriage took me for the longer walk.  It was all a sign that autumn--my favorite season at Lake Tahoe--was waiting for me as well as cooking and baking fall foods, especially breakfast fare. 
A carafe of coffee each a.m. via room service to afternoon
lattes boosted my mood and energy and zapped jet lag

On the way home I didn’t have time to savor a Mediterranean breakfast in bed due to an early morning flight.  After an easy go of it through U.S. Customs in Montréal–Pierre Elliott Trudeau International Airport in Canada (unlike the 1:00 A.M. sobering interrogation via Immigration coming into Quebec) I made a stop at a coffee shop for a continental breakfast—popular in Europe--which often includes coffee and a croissant.

Going home to Calif.  U.S. Customs was quick

This time around, when coming into the province brimming over with French Canadians at 1:00 A.M. EST, I was stereotyped as a West Coast hungry hippie chick. Clad in skinny jeans with holes (thanks to Victoria's Secret), a vintage gray tee-shirt, combat boots, and minimal make-up, I suppose I looked like a NorCal independent Tom boy as I did back when I was 21 in Quebec... 
Welcomed by a feminine looking redheaded young, cold Canadian Customs Officer with a  strong masculine edge, she darted and repeated her first words, "Do you have any marijuana?"  I did not. No smiles for her nor me. Sleep deprived I submitted to the grueling grilling which took over an hour with absurd questions, including "Are you here for our healthcare?" to "Do you have any friends or family here?"  The last punch hit hard. I noted I am an author whom writes about food with an underlying European theme. The woman mumbled, "There isn't Mediterranean cuisine here!"  But even the hotel I was booked at flaunted in their online description "Highlighting French and Mediterranean flavors, Restaurant Samuel de Champlain offers savory Continental Cuisine."  
I was craving my reserved city view room not a
Canadian Customs interrogation
During the ordeal, I sat down cross-legged on the floor, too tired to toss sarcastic rebuttals. The bullying interrogator scrutinized my itineraries and seemed dumbfounded that my booked train ride to Quebec City didn't include the time--just the day--of returning. Then, she called the hotel --the one with my reserved city view room with decor and food of France and Italy that the gracious French Canadian manager was holding for me. I yearned to plop onto the bed, look out the window and fall asleep after being up since 1:30 A.M. PST... Eventually, the immigration agent settled down. Ironically the probing was no different decades ago for me except it was male agents doing the poking. I had my loyal Lhaso apso with me. I was penniless with no I.D., passport, hotel room or itineraries. Older and wiser, this time I had my papers (and dogs kenneled) in a row but was still barked at... Wondering if they will smile (a bit) if I pack my bags, bring my two dogs, one cat, fish and come back: The Goal: Apply for Canadian citizenship? 
At the airport en route back to my Golden State, I ordered a coffee latte (I enjoyed a lot of these during my adventure) and a large and lovely looking cinnamon scone—a cake-like semi-sweet quick bread (glazed or plain served with butter). The caffeine fix could do no wrong but the pastry was not my cup of tea.  It was sweet enough and big enough but the texture was too hard. It was in one of those big glass jars. The cafe owner told me it was fresh and yummy. I, the California fussy scone girl, thought, “Ah, but she hasn’t tasted my sweet scones.”  I vowed to whip up a fresh batch of homemade pumpkin scones when I returned home to my cozy cabin.
My warm Calif. scones would make Canadians smile


2 3/4 cups 100 percent all-purpose flour
1⁄4 cup white or organic brown sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 1⁄2 teaspoons cinnamon (extra for sprinkling on frosting)
1 teaspoon pumpkin spice
1⁄4 cup European style butter (cold cubes)
1 brown egg
1⁄3 cup raw honey
1⁄2 cup 2 percent half and half milk (extra for brushing on top of pre-baked scones)
1 cup canned pumpkin
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Raw sugar (for topping on scones)

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. In a bowl, mix flour, sugar, baking powder, and spice. Add chunks of butter, sliced in small squares. In another bowl, combine egg, milk, pumpkin, honey, and vanilla. Combine wet ingredients with dry. Stir until a dough-like mixture forms.  On a floured cutting board, form dough into two circles. Brush with milk and raw sugar. Place in freezer for about 15 minutes to firm.  Take out and cut circles (like a pie) into 8 large triangles or 12 smaller ones. Place onto a parchment-lined cookie sheet. Bake for 20-30 minutes till firm and golden brown on edges and bottoms of scones.

Frosting: Mix approximately 1 cup confectioners' sugar, 1 teaspoon melted butter, 3 to 4 tablespoons  milk, 1 capful vanilla extract, and 1 capful almond or maple extract. Swirl a spoonful of glaze-like frosting on scones when warm. Sprinkle with cinnamon. Serves 8-12 scones.

On Wednesday morning my kitchen smelled like a bakery after I baked my first batch of scones for the season. The scent of pumpkin and warm spices filled the air. My first bite of the scone was crisp on the edges and chewy. The raw sugar gives these edible treasures a crunch. The nut flavored glaze is full of deliciousness. Pair with hot coffee latte and you’ll soar into breakfast heaven. The warm scones welcomed me to a new season with promise of colorful hues, fun activities, and cooler climate around the lake. It’s good to be home. Coffee and scone, anyone?

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Author Anticipating Road Trip--Edgy and Excited

By Cal Orey

Yes, I'll be passing out the new
cover of my olive oil book while
en route
So, the time is nearing for me to relive the past. Funny, I took my blood pressure this a.m. 122/70 but I'm still feeling anxious. Going out of a comfort zone, leaving my fur kids, and returning to a foreign place is spooky like Dorothy going to Oz without Toto. I wish I could take my Brittany or Aussie or calming kitty Zen. But that's not in the plan... 
Seismically sensitive Simon senses
change and has attitude

Fun-loving Skye doesn't know the plan

Ironically, as I snuggle up to my three kids I'm hearing the sound of a plane at Tahoe. Actually, planes fly in and out often to this small mountain town. Now, it's my turn to go but instead of rural I'm going back to the city. I'm sensing my heart will connect with Quebec City which promises more of a rural, earthy feel to it. And the train ride I've got booked? It's so strange. But I've experienced this recurring dream for years where I'm doing just this...on a train, trees, northeast. It's a sign and I've toyed with fate to bring this image to fruition. 
My goal, a vow I made decades ago

Yesterday when I called the airline to finalize plans I was told that people fly every day. Nobody is nervous. What planet is that rep from, anyhow? He needs to watch "French Kiss" or "Cast Away"... I read 40 percent of people who fly have some sort of anxiety. It's normal. The way I see it, I will pretend I'm in the dentist chair, having a procedure done, and take myself to that Zen Zone (God, I wish I could take my cat!)

So, there is still time to get my ducks and dogs in order. Filling out the kennel papers is tedious but I must be thorough. I was going to pack too much. I read whatever you pack--cut in half. So back to the suitcase(s). When I was 21, I had so little and felt so secure. I want to be that hippie girl. I'm talking jeans, t-shirts,  bare essentials. I want to take my canine companion(s) and I admit I am a bit gun-shy to travel alone nearly 6000 miles. 

Flashback from the Past
As an intuitive I often sense if someone has a fear it comes from the past. Today, I am getting flashbacks of my hitchhiking travels from yesteryear. While I was young, carefree, and happy--sometimes not so happy things did happen. One night I found myself in Lexington, Kentucky. I ended up at a hotel parking lot. My eyes fixed on a black truck with an open bed. Assuming the owner was spending the night at the hotel, I placed my knapsack (full of my worldly possessions, like peanut butter and a pair of jeans) and sleeping bag into it. The thought was, "I'll go wash up (sneak me and my best friend into the hotel bathroom) and come back out clean, sleep under the stars. If lucky I could get a ride northbound in the morning." 
Once back in the parking lot I didn't see the truck. At first I thought I wasn't looking at the right parking spot--but then it was an easy read. The vehicle was gone. I was left with the clothes on my back and dear companion--my black Lab.  I felt lost in the middle of the U.S.--until it hit me that's all that mattered. If my dog was AWOL I'd be crushed. We had each other. We traveled on through the night. We were okay.

Trying to toy with destiny, the flight plan from hell has been changed for better or worse--if  Hurricane "Ed" doesn't strike off the Atlantic coast.  (Yes, I did consider this but I chose the risk over flying in a CRJ900 amid dark skies.) No need to stress over making a 31 minute plane connection in 15 minutes. But getting up early is the penance. Layovers?  By the time I return I should have a French accent with a tad of the Deep South drawal. It's time to get a grip on reality now in the 21st century.  I've flown before. Hawaii, Seattle, Los Angeles, BC, S.F.--and I hitchhiked across America, Canada, and south of the border to Mexico. Note to self: Stop analyzing. Feel life. Just go. It's time to face my fears, one by one.  But if I could have a do over I'd take one of my fur boys-a Sophie's Choice moment.  But this time around on the road I'm on my own.