My eldest brother, Philip, passed away on December 23, 2009. We buried him on December 30. I delivered the eulogy at the Catholic funeral Mass in his honor.

Good afternoon everyone, and thank you for joining us today.

It was difficult for me to put words together to describe Philip. He was my oldest brother and, when I was young, he interceded when I was being punished, he helped me with my homework, and he kept me company when I missed our parents. Our father worked far away when I was growing up, and he did his best to fill Dad’s shoes. So I’ve lost more than a brother, I’ve lost my champion.

We all knew Philip in different ways. To me he was an older brother who I looked up to and respected. To our other brother Albert he was a friend and an academic and intellectual sparring partner. To Rica he was a loving husband. To DJ he was an adoring, involved and caring father. To you he may have been a cousin, friend, classmate, or coworker who listened, cared and shared. So to each of us, he left unique and special memories.

So who was this person we all knew as Philip?

He was born in 1948, the firstborn son of Mariano and Dolly Yan. He received the name Angel because he was born on October 2, the feast of the Holy Guardian Angels, and the name Austin, in honor of Father Austin Hannon, a close friend of our parents.

When he was just a baby, our parents entered his photo in a Coca-Cola photo contest. He won a PHP10 prize, and for a year was the poster boy for the drink that would be his life-long, number one favorite beverage. Later in life he could sit down with a family-size bottle of Coke and a can of shoestring potatoes, and finish them both off in one sitting. And when the doctor removed his respirator a couple of weekends ago, his first request was – you guessed it – “Coke.”

During Philip’s years at the Ateneo the Jesuits molded him into “a man for others” – a person who sincerely cared for those around him, an advocate for social justice and civic participation, a man whose first duty was to God. The friends he made at the Ateneo stayed with him through the years, around the world.

One of those friends, Rey Hidalgo, sent us a few of his memories: “I have fond memories of Philip — especially during our Ateneo Grade School days, when your Mom was a teacher in one of the Grade 2 sections…The Feast of the Holy Guardian Angels was particularly happy for both Philip and I, because Philip’s [birthday] was on the feast day itself (Oct 2); mine was the previous day. As you may well remember, those were days of no homework, no school uniform, no school bags and books, all play, carnival rides, cotton candy, cartoon movies at the Auditorium, and the candy shower.”

When Philip attended St. Louis High School in Baguio one of his closest friends was Sammy Flores, who today does us the honor of serving as our cantor. Philip and Sammy were part of a little clique that Philip coined PESO – Philip, Elaine, Sammy, Olivia. The four of them were inseparable and, as a child, I hoped I would have a similar, tight group of friends.

Right after high school and early in his years at St. Louis University, Philip was a hiker. What he saw on those hikes made him green-conscious before green was fashionable. In 1965-66, when he saw the growing desolation on Mt. Santo Tomas in Baguio, Philip and a friend, Nars Padilla, organized a reforestation effort called SHARE. Without the internet and simply by word of mouth in small-town Baguio, nearly 200 volunteers showed up at his first organizing meeting and more than 250 would trek to the mountain to plant 10,000 seedlings. To recognize Philip’s efforts and his genuine interest in civic affairs, the mayor of Baguio appointed him a Council member for Youth Affairs.

Philip entered the business world with characteristic enthusiasm. In Manila he worked at the Department of Public Information with then-Secretary Kit Tatad, Planters Peanuts, and several other high-profile companies. After he moved to Southern California in 1986, he took a job as a proofreader at the law firm of Hill, Farer and Burill. He was quickly promoted to manager of information technology. He later worked for Paper Graphics Inc., and then became CIO at the United Education Institute. He has been a consultant at Universal Studios, Universal Music Company, and Transamerica.

Philip’s last IT project was to design a donor database for the Fr. Kolbe Missionaries. He and the mission worked closely together to solidify the concept and form of the database. He worked on it between visits to the dialysis clinic, his way of offering service to the mission. Though it sits unfinished on his computer he had brought it to a point that will be easy to complete.

Philip did not face the world alone. He married Rica Lahoz in 1978 and they made their home first in Makati, then in West Covina. Together they became proud and happy parents when DJ was born in 1992. I remember that they always made a great-looking, happy couple. I admired how they stood by each other, worked out the issues that all married couples encounter, and raised a son in a caring, love-filled, God-centered home.

Philip was a gifted writer and speaker, and was on the speech and debate teams at every school level. His Ateneo classmate, Rey Hidalgo, wrote: “I think it was in Grade 2 (1955-56) that Philip had an elocution piece and I remember him telling me that to properly rehearse his delivery, he had to recite [it] outside at the street below while your Mom was at the second floor window coaching him.”

I remember the time he won his first major interschool speech competition when he was in high school. Our parents bought him a portable reel-to-reel tape recorder. We all recorded congratulatory messages, and I recall running into the bedroom when my message was playing because I thought it was juvenile and silly. If Philip thought that, he never said it and he thanked me for my share in his gift.

Philip loved cars and driving came to him very naturally. He could spend hours behind the wheel without feeling tired or bored. He was nine – the year before I was born, by the way – when he raced in the soap box derby on Quezon Boulevard in Quezon City. That same year, our father brought home a new car. In an effort to be helpful, Philip and Albert washed the car – using steel wool and cleanser. Our father’s new, shiny, dark gray car became a squeaky-clean, dull, light gray car.

When I was in 3^rd grade, I would sit on his lap and steer the car while he worked the pedals. Later in life, when I had joined the workforce in Manila, he provided the cars that I drove. I understand that the very last car he bought, he chose especially for his son.

Philip took family and friendship very seriously. He was there when Albert and I got married, when Dad suffered his stroke in 1986 and when he died the next year, when Mom suffered through and died of cancer. He took great pleasure in seeing his son’s baptism, first communion, and confirmation. He kept in touch with his schoolmates from Manila and Baguio, and enjoyed the company of cousins and friends. I was touched by his gratitude for the time we shared last October, when we came together to celebrate his birthday.

Philip was unabashedly Filipino. Despite his years of residency in Southern California and his American citizenship, he never forgot his Filipino roots. He respected and practiced the culture and spoke fondly of visiting home just one more time. To him, the Philippines was a haven and forever his homeland.

I’m sure all of us has unique memories of Philip and stories to share. Life is short. I hope we don’t wait too long to share those stories. To each of us he was special, to each of us he was different, to each of us he was himself.

One of my high school classmates lost his father this year. He sent me a poem that brought him comfort, titled My First Christmas in Heaven. A couple of stanzas stand out to share with all of you:

I know how much you miss me;
I see the pain inside your heart.
But I am not far away,
We really aren’t apart.

So be happy for me, dear ones,
You know I hold you dear,
And be glad I’m spending Christmas
With Jesus Christ every year.

Please join me in bidding Philip Godspeed, and applauding a man the Jesuits at the Ateneo successfully molded into a man for others.

Thank you.

Christmas dinner at my brother’s house is always a massive bath of generosity. Despite more than our family’s share of bumps and potholes this year, this Christmas was no different.

We kicked off the evening with Italian sweet peppers stuffed with herb cheese, roased garlic, deviled and lobster-stuffed eggs, bagel and lox. We added lumpiang shanghai and a roasted duck with plum and hoisin sauce. Appetizers were complemented by a 1996 J Brut Sparkling and a 1997 J Brut Sparkling – a touch of honeysuckle and orange blossoms on the former and toasted almonds on the latter.

We took a break to exchange and open gifts, always a fun and raucous time of the evening. We had gifted our niece and nephew a bit of cash, encased in miniature Christmas stockings that we had sewn shut. Why do we always feel like we made out like bandits?

We couldn’t wait any longer for dinner, and its centerpiece was my brother’s horseradish-crusted prime rib. Also on the table were a Honeybaked ham, haricots verts with crisp-fried shallots, sautéed mushrooms and onions, oven-roasted fingerling potatoes and carrots, roasted broccoli florets, and Yorkshire pudding.

To accompany dinner, my brother opened a 1996 Opus One – luscious and smooth, dark berries, well-tamed tannins, just the right amount of pungency. That was followed by a 2005 Edizione Pennino zinfandel – fruit-forward, a touch of black pepper, soft and rounded texture.

We waited about a half hour before diving into dessert. We had brought homemade cannoli. Our son makes the shells from scratch, a long and arduous process. Someone had brought chocolate chip cookies and another purchased a fresh mango mousse cake. Rounding out the selections were some Point Reyes blue cheese with candied walnuts and sliced apples and pears, and homemade marshmallows. And an incredible Donna Fugata Ben Rye Sicilia Passito Pantelleria dessert wine.

Our son and his cousins concocted some Romulan Ale – a lethal mix of Blue Curacao, 151 Rhum, and Everclear. Flammable and frightening.

We all tasted a candy unique to Baguio in the Philippines called Kulangot. Translation: Booger. It’s actually a little bit of coconut jam in a nut shell. Gross name, delicious little morsel.

After dessert we took another break and headed to our cousin’s house in the next town. We visited with our aunt (our uncle’s widow) and five of her six children and their families – a nearly full house. We brought them some lumpiang shanghai and brought our aunt an orchid plant for Christmas. We shared stories of loss – we had just lost our eldest brother in Southern California and she had recently lost her younger brother in the Philippines. We sampled some of the food on their groaning board – baked lumpia, purple yam jam, fresh pineapple, grilled jumbo shrimp.

When we returned to my brother’s house we finished off the last of the Ben Rye and watched a little Filipino TV. Then it was time to call it a night. Until next year…

All photos courtesy of my niece. Please follow her as @foodiesecrets on Twitter.

My eldest brother quoted passages from this poem by Robert Frost. Now that he’s gone, I’d like to share it in its entirety.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

The Ateneo de Manila University celebrates the 150th anniversary of its foundation this year. I am proud to be an Ateneo alumnus, one of those who graduated from the Grade School, High School and College on the Loyola campus. Some of the boys I met as classmates then are even better friends now that we are men. We have not forgotten where we came from nor the friends that we made there. This is the homily at the Mass for the Sesquicentennial of Ateneo de Manila University, Loyola Schools.

Homily for the Sesquicentennial of ADMU, Loyola Schools

by José CJ Magadia SJ, 10 December 2009, Church of the Gesù

This has been quite a year. From the launching of the celebration last June in the old Ateneo in the walled city, to the conferences and concerts, the blessing of the new Rizal Library, yesterday’s book launching of the Agenda for Hope, the ads, the hype, the countdown, the tarps and the themes, the blessings that came with the athletic victories, especially the UAAP championship of senior and junior basketball teams, the top university ranking, the academic competitions where our excellence has been displayed. Wow, what a year! T.S. Eliot says that the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper; we end our three-year build up to this sesquicentennial not with a whimper, but a bang.

Today, however, as we come together around the table of the Eucharist, I suggest that we step out of the hustle and bustle of the “sesqui,” and for these short span of an hour, be more recollecting and quiet. Today, December 10, 2009, we are gathered in this Church of the Gesù to do two things.

First, we come together to remember.

Jose Fernandez Cuevas SJ, Rector 1859-64

We remember that on this very day, 150 years ago, in 1859, the first class of twenty-three grade school students came to the doors of the Escuela Municipal in Intramuros, to become the first wards of the Jesuit priests who had just returned to Manila some months earlier after almost a century of absence from the archipelago. Twenty-three students came, out of thirty-three enrolled. So at least we know that cutting classes has somehow always been part of our school tradition!

Juan Bautista Vidal SJ, Rector 1864-68

We remember that just a few years after, in 1865, secondary education began and the school was renamed the Ateneo Municipal de Manila. We remember that in 1901, state funding ended and the school came to be called simply Ateneo de Manila. We remember that from the very beginning, it was an institution on the go, moving and expanding, from Intramuros to Padre Faura to Loyola, and from Loyola radiating to Salcedo and Rockwell and Ortigas, and beyond, through its satellite campuses, its on-site course offerings, its on-line programs.

From its beginnings in forming young men in the basics of reading, writing, ‘rithmetic, and religion, it has gone on to brave many more academic and professional fronts, from Philosophy and History and Literature, to Chemistry and Management and Sociology, from law and business, to governance and medicine and entrepreneurship. From the small staff of four Jesuit missionaries, the university has grown into faculty and staff and administration of hundreds of dedicated men and women.

Today, we also remember the many mentors, Jesuits and lay, who have walked the Ateneo’s corridors, whose voices have rung loud through its halls, whose ideas have pushed the boundaries of the possible, whose idiosyncrasies have sometimes charmed and sometimes annoyed and sometimes even turned off, whose exams have challenged many to set aside computer games and facebook updates, if only for a while.

With the mentors, we also recall the learning experiences – the lectures and the oral exams, the required field trips, the group projects, the class presentations. We remember that we enjoy this great luxury of learning, of enjoying space and seclusion, while at the same time entering new experiences, through exposure and exploration and experimentation.

Most of all, we cherish the memories with our fellow Ateneans who have become parts of our lives – the barkadas that were formed, the classmates we discussed and debated with, the student leaders we have admired and followed, the great athletes who have displayed both discipline and humility, the men and women who have taught us to live, not just for ourselves, but also for those around us, especially those who are poor.

We remember all this, and we realize that the Ateneo is not just a place. The Ateneo is a community of men and women who work together to seek the truth, to accept it wholeheartedly, and to speak it clearly and fearlessly, through word and deed. We remember and we know that this is a great school – not so much because of its resources and its wealth, but because of the people who have made it what it is.

As we remember, the second thing that we do today is give thanks. We acknowledge the gifts we have received, like Mary in the Gospel, who saw the infant in the manger and the shepherds who came to adore, and she cherished all these things in her heart. So too, as we remember, we hold these memories close to our hearts and we proclaim our gratitude.

Gratitude for what? Yes, gratitude for people and places, for events and experiences, for relationships and community. But most especially, we give thanks for three great gifts from the Ateneo –

The gift of mind, of straight thinking, which comes with logic and rhetoric, which comes with the ability to organize information and ideas and distinguish qualities;

The gift of spirit that teaches us to live with failure and learn to pick up the pieces of a broken world and rise again, and build on its ruins – win or lose, it’s the school we choose;

And the gift of heart, of feeling with and feeling for, of being there for and accompanying the people we are given to care for, of consoling and encouraging them, of giving them hope.

But we also realize that as we give thanks, we also become aware of this deep desire to give back to a country so immersed in violence – the violence not only of arms and coercion, but also of impunity and injustice, poverty and inequality, of Filipinos lacking in decent food and education, health and housing, whether in Maguindanao or Payatas. And now, more than ever, we feel called to heal the victims of the violence of an earth that has been hurt and abandoned by human carelessness – manifested through global warming and climate change, resulting in flooding and disaster. The gratitude impels us to give back, and to give generously, and to lose ourselves, as Christ did on the cross.

As we remember and give thanks, we ask God to bless the Ateneo, using the words of the first reading. May the Lord bless the Ateneo and keep us. May the Lord let his face shine upon us and be gracious to us. May the Lord look upon us kindly and give us peace.

Photos courtesy of the Ateneo de Manila University web sites (http://ateneo.edu and http://150.ateneo.edu)

The autumn décor is packed away, the dishwasher has run its fifth and final load, and the turkey carcasses are sitting in the freezer waiting to be used for stock and soup. This year’s Thanksgiving dinner saw 17 of us on two tables and another four added on for dessert.

The preparations for Thanksgiving dinner started in early November, with an initial plan to feed eight people. Over the next three weeks the list would grow and we would adjust the menu. Our family and friends would bring appetizers and desserts, and we would take care of the main meal.

If we could buy the ingredient early, we did – French-fried onion strings, nuts, seasoned bread stuffing, orange marmalade, dates, butter, seasonings. We made a list of the remaining ingredients and items that we would need – croissants, carrots, haricots verts, apples, oranges, celery, onions, fresh sage. We ordered for two free-range birds weighing at least 12 pounds each at my local Lucky store (Custom turkey orders at Lucky: Who knew?).

Three days before Thanksgiving, we hedged our chances that we had enough food by asking my wife’s best friend to pick up a crisp roasted duck at 99 Ranch, one of the local Chinese grocery stores.

Main Table

"Children's" Table

The day before Thanksgiving I stopped by the Lucky store to pick up the birds and came home with a 12- and a 14-pounder. I also picked up the rest of the perishable ingredients. I brined the turkeys overnight and my wife and I made the cranberry compote, dressing and sweet-and-sour sauce for the Shanghai-style lumpias. We defrosted and baked a no-sugar-added apple pie from our favorite farm store in Placerville’s Apple Hill. We set the tables and cleared the hall closet for our guests’ coats.

Lemon-basted Rotisserie Turkey

On Thanksgiving morning the turkeys came out of the brine. The smaller bird got bouquets garni with celery, onion, orange, lemon, rosemary, and thyme, and was placed on a rotisserie on the kitchen counter. We would baste it with an emulsified mixture of lemon juice, oil, salt, and pepper. The larger bird got bouquets garni with celery, onion, apple, orange, sage, and thyme. I separated the skin from its breast and rubbed it with sage butter, then placed it in the over breast-down for the first two-and-a-half hours. I would turn it over to finish roasting it on its back. We began prepping the side dishes.

By mid-afternoon, our friend walked in with the duck and other family and guests began to arrive with their share: cheeses, spinach quiche squares, tossed green salad, sweet potato pie, pecan pie, lemon-scented meringues, and fresh fruit pizza. Our friend also helped fry the lumpias. We started opening wine bottles.

Haricots Verts

Crispy Roasted Duck

Carrots with Garlic and Orange Marmalade

The turkeys came out of the oven and off the rotisserie at 4:00 p.m. and rested while we laid out the side dishes. The birds were carved and dinner was served.

Fresh Fruit Pizza

When everyone had eaten, the dishes went into the dishwasher and we sat around, drank wine and talked for about an hour before we brought out the desserts and after-dinner wines.

My niece and I took a break to bring her parents to SFO for their flight to Manila. When we returned, most of the guests were still there and they called it a night at about midnight. My niece and one of our friends spent the night and departed after dinner on Friday.

Lots of work? Probably more than there should be, and we tend to over-produce events we host. Lots of food? Probably more than we needed, since we sent friends and family home with leftovers. Lots of people? Probably more than the capacity of our dining room, but these were the people we were thankful to have as friends and family. We’re already looking forward to hosting Thanksgiving next year.

(The recipes for some of the dishes on this year’s Thanksgiving table are on my food blog: Fed n Watered.)

When I was growing up in the Philippines, my parents insisted that we speak English as a first language at home. They then sent me to schools that supported that orientation. I learned Tagalog as a second language at school and a smattering of Spanish at home as a third. My parents believed that when I grew older I would travel, and that proper English would be the key to professional and personal fulfillment.

My parents were right. I make my living as a writer in America.

It’s too bad that America is the land of Ain’t.

I don’t know how the word ain’t evolved. And it’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Let’s take a few samples of current idioms from advertising and media:

“…me and my Outback are ready for anything…” (Subaru Outback radio commercial)

“Verizon Wireless has five times more 3G coverage than AT&T.” (Verizon Wireless print ad & TV commercial)

“Brought to you directly from local ‘Fresidents’” (Fresno Scene magazine web site)

My grammar and spelling are by no means perfect. I often have to run to the AP Stylebook, Webster’s Dictionary, or MS Word’s spelling and grammar check utility to resolve some of my issues. Resolution usually only takes seconds.

But I do know when a sentence is wrong.

My English and Communications teachers would have given me an F if these examples of current patois ever appeared in my term papers, articles or scripts.

Poetic license. It’s the excuse most frequently invoked by marketing-type people when participles dangle, subjects and verbs disagree, headlines have too many characters. It’s unfortunate the resulting composition falls far short of any definition of poetry. (I do concede: “I can’t get no satisfaction” works. I’m a Rolling Stones fan.)

“…my Outback and I are ready…”

“Verizon Wireless 3G covers five times as much ground as AT&T.”

“Brought to you directly by local ‘Fresidents’”

It’s not difficult to express a thought in proper English. As a communications professional, I believe I have a responsibility to protect and respect the language that provides my livelihood.

I am compelled to set a good example for my audience to follow. While I can’t impose that sentiment on everyone, I, for one, will continue to write in English.

Debbie and I celebrated her birthday this year with dinner at Restaurant James Randall in Los Gatos. I’d been wanting to try this restaurant for at least a couple of years, and in that time their menu approach had changed from full dinners (only two seatings per night) to small plates. So unfortunately I cannot compare the restaurant’s vibe, food and service then and now. What is fortunate is that diners now will find it easier to reserve a table at this 52-seat establishment.

(Photo courtesy of the restaurant's web site.)

The dining room is small but not crowded, upbeat but not noisy. We were greeted promptly at the door and escorted to our table. (In the photo, it’s the table on the right under the turquoise canvas.)

Since we were newbies, the waitress walked us through the menu, then left us to discuss our selections. We decided to start with and share a Cheese Plate, the Soup of the Day and a Baby Spinach Salad. Our “entrees” would be Fried Chicken & Waffle and Grilled New York Steak.

The butternut squash soup was presented with a dollop of crème fraiche and chopped chive. The soup was creamy but not heavy. It was smooth and must have been strained after it was blended. Its flavor indicated that the squash may have been roasted, maybe with pine nuts. Whatever its combination of ingredients and processes, this soup made me want to sample more of the restaurant’s menu.

The salad was light and fresh, garnished with Point Reyes blue cheese and dressed with a Dijon vinaigrette. The judicious use of the dressing ensured that we could also taste the flavors of the greens, bacon and eggs.

The cheese plate had a Point Reyes blue, a truffle blue, and a gruyere presented with dried cranberries, dried apricots and glazed walnuts, along with a few slices of crusty sweet French baguette. The three cheeses were delicious individually. However, we would have preferred a collection that better combined aged, mild and creamy selections.

Debbie said that the New York steak was tender, flavorful and done just as she had asked: medium rare. The sautéed spinach was lightly spiced and neither raw nor mushy. The small plate portion was just the right size.

I’m a sucker for fried chicken, so when I saw it on the menu and our waitress highly recommended it I had to have it. I got a piece of tender, moist, mildly-seasoned boneless breast, with a crisp, light batter. It was served with a small Belgian waffle, bacon-braised chard, chive butter, and a sprinkle of maple syrup. The mix of savory and sweet was such a pleasant surprise I may try to recreate the experience at home.

Dessert was a slice of dark chocolate torte, with a dollop of white chocolate ganache blended with bourbon. What a decadent finish to our meal! It was so rich we couldn’t finish it all, and we had to bring it home for our son to taste.

The common thread through this entire meal was a bottle of Melipal malbec from Argentina. A rich, versatile wine, this malbec revealed different parts of its character as it breathed and combined with the different stages of our meal.

It’s a pity Restaurant James Randall is open only for dinner. Their small plates would be perfect for a light lunch. The menu changes frequently, so we hope we can taste the Housemade Fries, Bubba Sliders, Pan Roasted Pork Chop, Ground Lamb Empanada, and Seared Foie Gras the next time we dine there.

In the July 2009 issue of Motor Trend, Frank Markus in his “technologue” column writes about the future of communication: 3D fax. He talked about our progression from audio to video, and now to pario.

Pario is the ability to electronically send a three-dimensional facsimile of an object in real time. Several steps ahead of 3D holography or virtual reality projection, pario would generate a synthetic reality that allows recipients to touch and manipulate the solid object they receive. Unlike holograms and virtual reality images, there would be no need for special goggles, gloves or projectors.

“‘Yellow’ has emerged as the iconic sculpture in my nationwide art tour. I really see this piece as someone pulling themselves apart,” said artist Nathan Sawaya

Carnegie Mellon University calls the technology claytronics and Intel calls it dynamic physical rendering. Millions of microdevices – claytronic atoms or catoms, for short – will assemble themselves into macroscale objects. The catoms could have LCD or LED surfaces, emitting light and color to make the model more lifelike.

Claytronics research – led by Seth Goldstein and Todd Mowry at Carnegie Mellon – combines the work on microscale computing devices and the work on telepresence. According to worldchanging.com, the technology could be a means of holding “virtual meetings with apparent physical presence.” New Scientist says it’s not teleportation, but it’s the next best thing.

The application possibilities are mind-blowing: product design, telemedicine, forensics, online sales. Claytronics could break down the barrier of the customer’s need to touch a product before buying it. How many of us stop just short of buying that one item because we don’t know how it feels in our hand or if the color is just right?

Pario is still an infant technology. The first proof-of-concept catoms are the size of marbles, and their mass and the magnets used to connect them restrict them to two-dimensional forms. The next generation will be the size of BB pellets and will likely weigh less than a gram, producing low-resolution 3D pario. And it will be one step closer to making Captain Kirk’s order – “Energize!” – a reality.

(I wrote this in June 2009 for a different blog. I thought everyone would enjoy it so I’ve moved it here.)

Debbie and I joined this year’s Light the Night Walk in Palo Alto, CA. Sponsored by the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, this annual event raises funds for research to battle blood cancers.

 

Start/Finish Line

Along the Walk Route

Turning a Corner

Fin!

Friday afternoons are great. The work week is over, it might be possible to sleep in tomorrow, it’s payday. Every other Friday, our household anticipates something extra: our box of fruits and vegetables from Farm Fresh to You (http://www.farmfreshtoyou.com/index.php).

We’re a small household and we don’t usually consume copious quantities of produce. So the farm’s Small Box suits us well.

What did we get this week?

• Gala apples – 2 lbs.
• Red grapes – 1.5 lbs.
• Sweet peppers (red and yellow) – 0.5 lb.
• Broccoli – 1 crown
• Green beans – 1 lb.
• Butter lettuce – 2 small heads
• Heirloom tomatoes – 1.5 lbs.

It’s Saturday afternoon, and at this point in time we’ve sampled the apples and grapes. The gala apples are sweet, crisp and crunchy. The red grapes are a delight. The skins are just taut and tough enough to pop when you bite through them to the sweet, juicy flesh inside. And the grapes are seedless! I’m restraining myself from eating them all in a single sitting.

I guess I expected organic fruit to be less pretty than commercial fruit, but the only differences I’ve noticed are in size and sheen. Organic fruit are slightly smaller and don’t have the wax polish of commercially-farmed and handled fruit.

Our son mentioned that this box actually contained produce that he would eat. He may enjoy the broccoli or the string beans with a juicy grilled steak or poached salmon fillet.

As a diabetic, I eat lots of greens. I am partial to butter lettuce – I like its flavor and texture, and the fulfilling “chew” it produces in my mouth. I’m likely to consume one each of the small heads that arrived yesterday with a couple of lunches at the office this coming week. I’ve taken the heads out of the plastic bag they arrive in, and placed them in the vegetable Ziplock bags I’m testing in our kitchen.

I’m the only person in our household who eats raw tomatoes. I’m looking forward to slicing the heirloom tomatoes, drizzling them with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and sprinkling them with dried oregano or fresh basil.

I’ve found that not all organic produce is as fragile as I thought. Two days ago, my wife sautéed the remaining sweet peppers that arrived with our last box so I could enjoy them with the rib steaks I grilled that evening. I still have a leek in the refrigerator from our previous shipment. Tomorrow I’ll buy a couple more and make potato and leek soup to go with dinner.

Our box from Farm Fresh to You always comes with a newsletter. This week, we received news of a Halloween Farm Tour on October 24, complete with live bluegrass music. We noted a recipe for Apple Upside-down Biscuit Cake that we might try.

We also read about the efforts of the farm’s owners to create a two-acre, 100-tree oak preserve next to the tree the family calls “Mother Oak.”

“By the creek there is a huge oak tree that was named the Mother Oak by my older brother Noah. Standing under the tree yields the most impressive view of the massive branches that stem from the tree trunk that is six feet in diameter. The huge branches follow the trajectory a fire work would, staring straight up and arching away from the trunk where they eventually point back down to the ground. Haning from the branches are many small limbs that fork into twigs and hanging from all of those are the uniquely-shaped oak leaves.” (Farm Fresh to You newsletter, September 28-October 2, 2009)

We signed up for regular deliveries from Farm Fresh to You for several reasons: We needed to enrich our diets with more fresh produce, essential to my battle to conquer diabetes and high cholesterol. I had gotten bored with the unchanging list of fruits and vegetables that we purchased at the grocery store. We needed a reliable source of produce that would sustain us when we were unable to go to our weekly neighborhood farmer’s market. We were attracted to the farm’s ability to deliver to our doorstep and de-select the produce we would rather not receive. We were impressed that we could manage our account and deliveries online.

Our foray into Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) has so far been a positive, enjoyable and financially-sound experience. I’ve always been an advocate for the local merchant and this opportunity to support a local farm excites me. That the produce is organic is a bonus. I’m simply happy that it’s fresh and affordable.