A different kind of life

Undoubtedly, it's a very different kind of life we live here now. This is the third fresh peach cobbler I've baked from scratch in about a week's time. The peaches come from a nearby orchard, and the crust of each cobbler is half of the infallible Martha Stewart recipe for Pâtee Brisée.

The first cobbler I made about a week ago when I had a former student and a new colleague-friend over for fried chicken. The fried chicken was disappointing (I'm still mastering that dish), but the cobbler was alright, especially since the peaches were so fresh and juicy.

After having that little dinner party (sans my husband), Dr. S returned from England last week and on Monday evening she invited a group of colleague-friends and a former student for dinner at her apartment, which used to be mine. An accomplished cook, baker, and basically accomplished at anything she sets her mind to do, Dr. S had us over for some gloriously scrumptious garlic shrimp pasta, a mozzarella, tomato and pasta salad, and fresh blueberries and vanilla ice cream.

The second cobbler I made Tuesday for a dinner at our dog-loving colleague-friends who teach the 18th century. That cobbler was a little overcooked on the bottom (I'm still figuring out my new oven), but everyone liked it.

Accomplished cooks themselves, our colleague-friends treated us to their famously delicious Indian cooking (I've never had lamb the way they prepare it!), and while I had promised myself that I wouldn't eat a lot, I had to repeat on the lamb palak because it was simply too good to have only once.

The third cobbler, the one pictured above, I made this afternoon for a meeting I have tonight with two boricua colleague-friends. One of them is hosting us at her house in the nearby town so we can plan a Latin@ film series for which we got some funds from my small college on the hill.

OK, so that's four social engagements in about 10 days. That's about the number of social engagements we had in a year when we lived in the tiny city! When I told my husband (who's not a social butterfly by any means) that we had another dinner invitation for Tuesday evening, his skeptical eyebrow came up and I could hear him thinking: "A second dinner! Didn't we have one last night?"

Before he balks I'll have to start accepting invitations only on my behalf, and leave him contentedly behind at home, or he'll suffer an overdose of socializing. And while I'm no social butterfly myself (I do cherish my solitude and the time I spend alone with my husband), I love the feeling of being part of a community of colleagues and friends who gets together often and cooks marvelous food and has a good time together.

In any event, just like the tiger-striped one that graced my new garden recently, butterflies, even the not-social kind, are welcome.