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 It’s that time of year “summer, sun, sea & fun”. As the day nears the end we head out to the beach. The highlight of the evening for the kids & adults alike will be the campfire! The kids play, the women chat and the men are happy to build the fire.  

Petra unpacks the picnic basket. “Here is the task,” she says: “Find the nearest trees to snap off & cut green twigs.” We step into a ticket of thorns and stinging nettles, and snap off the perfect twigs. But not to hold marshmallows, it turns out. “Thicker,” Petra commands; turns out, we're cutting “breadsticks.” 

Then, armed and ready we sit around the fire pit while waves crash onto the beach with a strong easterly wind. We begin to relax and enjoy the evening. Soon enough Petra opens her basket and out comes a huge Tupperware container filled with bread dough.  Petra spoons out the dough and wraps the bread dough in a corkscrew fashion around one end of the stick, pinching the dough tightly so it'll stay in place. She hands one to me “Hold it over the fire pit and be patient! Cook it slowly and evenly so the bread doesn't burn and gets cooked thoroughly.” I manage to say “All right!” and think: Yup, this is bread on a stick. No doubt about it.  

Eventually, all twelve or thirteen sticks end up in the fire: Right, now add a little gritty sand and some herbed butter and you’d say: Boy that was the best crusty bread on a stick ever! Tasting of yeast and sweet at the same time. Of course, followed by marshmallows and old left-over fire works from New Year’s Eve rounded up a perfect evening at the beach… what fun!  

If this is an American or European tradition, it was one I hadn't heard of.

Andrea just posted a charming story about a coincidence in France. Here's another one.

According to the rental car's dashboard digits, it's 11:11 on 07 07 07, the temperature is 22.2 degrees and I've driven 333.3 kilometers since leaving Paris. What does it all mean? That would be the coincidence of crossing paths with Seattle chef Kerry Sear at the bustling Saturday market in Beaune, of all places. Normally, he's leading tours of the Pike Place Market, then returning to Cascadia to make lunch for the gang. But he's winding up a two-week vacation in France split between Paris and Burgundy. And at today's weekly farmers market, he's seriously impressed with the richness of produce, meat and cheese, from $1.25 a pound on-the-vine tomatoes to the piles of foraged mousserons and girolles. "No big fuss about 'organic' here, is there?" he observes. "No need." In Paris last week, Kerry spent a day in the three-star kitchen of the George V, another day watching 14 line cooks prepare small plates for the 24-seat at the Atelier Joel Robuchon. Back home, it's going to be Urban: Paris with Paris-on-the-patio wine tastings in August, Rural: Burgundy in September. Inspiration, that's what vacations are all about, n'est-ce pas?

 “It's time to leave. Everone ready?” Phoebe's minivan had broken down the previous day so we all pile into Didier’s car: four adults and three kids. We pray that the gendarmes won't stop us. Once we're actually on the road towards Pont-Aven, we're more relaxed. It's Sunday morning and it promises to be a gorgeous day here in Brittany.  

Our longtime friends from Seattle Didier and Phoebe moved to Brittany two years ago, to Larmor Plage, close to Lorient. Today, Pont-Aven beckons.  

Once a modest village in the Middle Ages, it became a commercial center known for its watermills and its port until the 19th century. From 1864 on, Pont-Aven's unique charm attracted artists enamored with nature and light. Painting, one of the oldest art forms, brought it fame, and Paul Gauguin, one of the most admired painters in the world, assured it a place in history. 

Gauguin was right: Pont-Aven is a wonderful town, a pretty market village of white houses and sloping riverbanks. Just upstream from the granite bridge at the heart of town, the promenade Xavier-Grall crisscrosses the tiny river itself on landscaped walkways, offering glimpses of venerable mansions dripping with ivy, and a little "chaos" of rocks in the stream itself.  

As we arrive in Pont-Aven we are heading straight in to a gallery “Tonnerre & Kolwolski” where Phoebe introduced us to the lady of the house, also an artist, who shares this gallery now with her son Frederique Tonnerre. But there is more: she is also the sister of Phoebe’s other best friends from Seattle, Nathalie and Michel, who are originally from Guidel, France.  

So after a delicious and lazy Sunday lunch we walk along one of the watermills of Pont-Aven (once described as "14 watermills, 15 houses" in the 19th century) when we heard a tremendous exciting honk-honk! The driver of a rental car from Paris is waving and opens his window wide. A greeting: Hello Didier and Phoebe … "Quelle surprise?"as a long line of cars and motorbikes piled up behind this enthusiastic greeting. "Quelle surprise" replied Phoebe & Phoebe to Michel and Nathalie. 

Phoebe exclaims to me a moment later how lucky she is to see her two best friends from Seattle here in Pont-Aven, of all places! And I sigh once more with “how small the world has become….”! “Seattle-ites meet in Pont-Aven, in the lower Brittany of France”. In the end there were six adults and five children ,all from Seattle, meeting in the small park near Nathalie’s sister’s art gallery. The adults were playing catch-up; the children were just playing. 

I love doing volunteer work in a jail in my neighborhood of Trastevere, Rome. It's a world completely apart and it's a rare privilege to know it.

The Chaplain that has worked in the same prison for more than 25 years is right when he says that inside those walls runs a stream of grief.

This is a prison where all sorts of criminals are taken waiting to appear in court, to be judged and sent to other jails all over Italy.

We listen to the most incredible stories. We phone families and lawyers, we build a friendly relationship with our "friends". Their dramas become ours and stay with us well after we leave those barred doors.

Sometimes, though, there's an episode that makes us smile and very sad at the same time. I remember when at Xmas time a prisoner was very sad because his kids didn't visit him. I asked why. The answer came quickly. "Because I killed their mother!".

Good food for thought. 

As much as I love homemade phyllo (now I’m spoiled), I usually go to Maria’s to enjoy it. 

I’ve used commercially-made phyllo for many dishes since I was allowed to terrorize my mother’s kitchen with my childhood experiments.  It’s worked out great for many family celebrations over the years.  Since phyllo is very popular these days, it’s easier to find in major markets.  It’s usually in the freezer section, so needs to be thawed overnight before using.  Follow the package instructions. 

3 pounds fresh spinach, tough stems removed 1 bunch scallions, chopped½ cup fresh parsley, chopped2 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped1 pound Greek feta cheese, crumbled3 eggs, beaten2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil½ cup dried bread crumbs½ teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon black pepper, freshly ground (optional) ½ pound phyllo dough1-1/4 cups extra virgin olive oil1 egg yolk, beaten.

Preheat oven to 350F9×13 inch baking pan, evenly coated with olive oil1 large, sturdy pastry brush for olive oil (you can also use a spray bottle with very light mister) 

1. Clean and dry the spinach well.  To dry, line in towels, use a salad spinner, or both. 
2. Chop the spinach and place in a large mixing bowl.
3. Add the scallions, herbs, feta and remaining ingredients.  If the feta is very salty, be careful when adding more salt.  Combine the ingredients and set aside. 
4. Prepare your workstation:  Clear space for your phyllo stack, filling, olive oil and baking pan.  Phyllo can dry out quickly, become brittle and break.  It’s OK if it breaks, but easier to work with if it doesn’t.  If you need to walk away from production, cover the phyllo stack with a slightly damp kitchen towel.
5. Transfer one sheet of phyllo to the baking pan and drape the excess over the sides.  Brush the phyllo with a thin, even coat of olive oil.  No need to overdo it.  Repeat the process with 6 more sheets of dough.  Always coat each layer of phyllo dough with olive oil. 
6. Scatter 1/4^th of the filling lightly but evenly onto sheet 7.  You want to leave a few pockets for air.  Cover the filling with another layer of phyllo and continue the process until the filling is used.
7. Top that with 7 to 10 more sheets of phyllo.  Fold the excess dough onto the top edges or trim it away with a sharp knife.
8. Brush the top layer with eggwash.  Using a sharp knife score the top few layers (not so deep as the filling) of the dough into generous serving-size diamond shapes.  This keeps the phyllo intact when you slice it later.
9. Bake for about an hour until golden brown.  Let it rest for 5-10 minutes.  Slice and serve hot, warm or cold.  Spanakopita is fabulous at any temperature.  Refrigerate any unlikely unused portions.

Note:  Always coat each layer of phyllo dough with olive oil.  This facilitates the steam required for the ultimate crispy pita.  Otherwise, it will be gum pie.  It’s the same concept for all laminated doughs such as puff pastry or croissants.  You can also combine spinach with other delicate greens that require similar cooking time, such as arugula.  If you use tougher greens like kale or collards, it’s best to sauté them first and drain them well.  That’s for another recipe.  Do not reheat phyllo-based dishes in the microwave.  They will become gummy and soggy.