Noodle Kugel and Lawrence Ferlinghetti on a hot night

It's hot. It's bloody hot. Last week, it was cool, cloudy, and even kinda misting. Now my plants are fainting and my cat is passed out on the bed. In years past, we used to refer to "May gray" and "June gloom". These were not bipolar months. These were months that knew what they were about -- they were there to remind us that summer's sun was still just out of reach, and that the plants had one last shot at moisture before the summer dry season. So when I was planning the party I was going to throw for my neighbor, who turned 93 this past Wednesday, I was envisioning the whole thing taking place indoors. I saw the neighbors gathered around the island in my kitchen, happily eating and drinking and sharing stories, while Mary, at 93, sipped on her martini. (I think it's her secret to longevity!) And then the heat struck. It's a good thing I had been working on the stone path outside. At least people could walk around without having to avoid the gap between the path and the garden, which had a couple of bricks and stones strewn among the tree roots. At least I finished that part, and all I had to do was rake the dirt to a sorta- kinda level, and borrow some chairs from one of the neighbors. At the last minute I discovered that there would be 11 of us (instead of the original 8), and then a woman showed up at the gate who was the niece of a long-time friend of Mary's, making it 12.

The greatest joy of this party was two-fold: Mary's delight in being surrounded by friends, and my increasing sense of belonging to this wonderful community. I live on a short block which ends in a cul-de-sac, and everyone knows Mary. At 93 she has all her marbles and a wicked sense of humor. People brought salads and wine and stories to share. The woman who showed up late brought a book of Lawrence Ferlenghetti poetry and read one by flashlight for Mary. We all applauded when she was done.

The food was the kind which could be enjoyed hot or cool. The martinis were definitely cold, as was the white wine. Not knowing everyone's eating habits, I always have vegetarian food as well as something with chicken. This time I made a couple of pizzas with chicken marinated in an ancho chili and raspberry sauce (it was too dark to photograph by the time the pizzas came out!), as well as the Spinach Ricotta tart I had posted here back in April. And then there's this dish, which, if you're lucky and have any leftover, makes for a terrific Sunday breakfast!
Noodle Kugel

1/2 pound wide egg noodles
1/2 stick butter, melted
1 pound cottage cheese
2 cups sour cream
1/2 cup sugar
6 eggs
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 cup raisinsPreheat oven to 375 degrees F.

Boil the noodles in salted water for about 4 minutes. Strain noodles from water. In a large mixing bowl, combine noodles with remaining ingredients and pour into a greased, approximately 9-by-13-inch baking dish.

Bake until custard is set and top is golden brown, about 30 to 45 minutes.

And here is the poem which capped off our evening:

I Am Waiting

I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting
for someone to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting
for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting
for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the Second Coming
and I am waiting
for a religious revival
to sweep through the state of Arizona
and I am waiting
for the Grapes of Wrath to be stored
and I am waiting
for them to prove
that God is really American
and I am waiting
to see God on television
piped’ onto church altars
if only they can find
the right channel
to tune in on
and I am waiting
for the Last Supper to be served again
with a strange new appetizer
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for my number to be called
and I am waiting
for the Salvation Army to take over
and I am waiting
for the meek to be blessed
and inherit the earth
without taxes and I am waiting
for forests and animals
to reclaim the earth as theirs
and I am waiting
for a way to be devised
to destroy all nationalisms
without killing anybody
and I am waiting
for linnets and planets to fall like rain
and I am waiting for lovers and weepers
to lie down together again
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the Great Divide to ‘be crossed
and I am anxiously waiting
for the secret of eternal life to be discovered
by an obscure general practitioner
and I am waiting
for the storms of life
to be over
and I am waiting
to set sail for happiness
and I am waiting
for a reconstructed Mayflower
to reach America
with its picture story and tv rights
sold in advance to the natives
and I am waiting
for the lost music to sound again
in the Lost Continent
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the day
that maketh all things clear
and I am awaiting retribution
for what America did
to Tom Sawyer
and I am waiting
for the American Boy
to take off Beauty’s clothes
and get on top of her
and I am waiting
for Alice in Wonderland
to retransmit to me
her total dream of innocence
and I am waiting
for Childe Roland to come
to the final darkest tower
and I am waiting
for Aphrodite
to grow live arms
at a final disarmament conference
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting
to get some intimations
of immortality
by recollecting my early childhood
and I am waiting
for the green mornings to come again
youth’s dumb green fields come back again
and I am waiting
for some strains of unpremeditated art
to shake my typewriter
and I am waiting to write
the great indelible poem
and I am waiting
for the last long careless rapture
and I am perpetually waiting
for the fleeing lovers on the Grecian Urn
to catch each other up at last
and embrace
and I am waiting
perpetually and forever
a renaissance of wonder

Lawrence Ferlinghetti