Stories

Can you believe it? I ended up on the nut farm! OK, no wise comments. I’m talking about a real nut farm in Hawaii, where my five kids and five grandkids can ramble around, work up an appetite (I don’t have to work at it), and then enjoy some of the luscious macadamia nut cookies that I’ll be making for them on Mother’s Day. (I know that’s backward — they should be making them for me.)

Mac nuts are the best — pearly and buttery, with just the right texture and so easy to crunch. Everybody loves them. Of course, that includes the wild pigs that have grudgingly agreed to let Granny (that’s me, I still can’t believe it), the kids and their pals share the place with them and the wild turkeys.

The gorgeous greenery, the ocean in the distance, the sound of the rain that keeps it all lush and fragrant: It’s a sweet slice of heaven, and I hope everyone can find their own little slice of that, wherever they are.

A first serial excerpt from "Rubies in the Orchard," Lynda Resnick's autobiographical, how-to marketing gem. A road map for anyone who's trying to do anything in business or in life.

Running Teleflora was a dream job. I was in charge of marketing and product development, and, of course, I supervised all my new friends in the sales force, which I gradually shaped to fit my vision. The business was growing, and so were profits. I had reached a point where I could start delegating some of the work – provided I could let go of a certain nagging perfectionism (which today has a fancy name and a medication regime to go along with it).

My job was fulfilling, and my life with my husband Stewart and our kids had hit a stretch of smooth sailing, about as close to domestic bliss as any family gets. For the first time in my life, things seemed comfortable and easy. With everything going so well, there was naturally only one thing left to do: shake it up.

In 1981, I hired a news clipping service to begin tracking a direct-response company called the Franklin Mint. There were similarities between the Mint and Teleflora. The Mint created unique products, just as we did, only without the flowers. In those days, their products were mostly coins and medallions, a few porcelain vases, and some miniature knickknacks worthy of display in a “free with purchase” vitrine. Unlike Teleflora, the Mint sold its collectibles through direct response, with no middleman between the company and its consumers. It was something I longed to do.

There’s not really anything to do with noodle kugel – put it back in the oven and heat it up. There’s not really anything to do with Katherine’s Mother’s carrot ring either (which is more like carrot cake) and which we ate too much of, except wrap it in tinfoil and put it in the oven and heat it up, too.

Brisket, however, is a whole other story. Brisket hash for Sunday brunch with poached eggs on it. BBQ Brisket sandwiches. BBQ Brisket tacos (just go with this, they’re really great!)

BBQ Brisket Sandwiches

So easy. Sauté a little sliced green pepper in olive oil. Slice and shred brisket. Add shredded brisket and heat for a minute or so. Throw in a half a cup of bbq sauce and simmer or more if it seems too dry. If you’re feeling really brave, throw in some sliced jalapenos. Lightly toast a hamburger bun and spoon bbq brisket onto bun, put on top bun, and slice in half, cause it’s kind of messy!

My brother is at odds with Thomas Wolfe. He is living proof that you can go home again. Oklahoma City is just that kind of place. I can’t really describe what makes my hometown so special to people who have never passed through the capital of the panhandle state. Perhaps the folks best suited to explain the city’s certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ are its chefs. Chefs like my brother, Jonathon Stranger, Mark Dunham, Josh Valentine, Chris Becker, Kurt Fleischfresser, Russ Johnson, and the father of Mission Chinese, Danny Bowien.

Like many members of this crew, my brother left Oklahoma City at eighteen and explored various parts of the globe through a cook’s lens. At age 27, armed with folders full of harrowing but valuable tales from the restaurant world and some culinary tools in his belt, he returned and thought about how he could make his mark on the city’s landscape without turning a blind eye to his roots. And so Ludivine was born, a farm to table restaurant set in Midtown, a newly revitalized area of the city, where Oklahomans could taste dishes inspired by and using fresh, local ingredients, like bison (the tenderloin is my personal favorite).

But what I think makes Oklahoma City’s chefs so unique is not just that they are simply introducing new approaches to food and what it means to dine out to its customers, but that they are working together, side by side, to foster a sense of community in this collective venture. They love food as much as they love the people they serve, the people they grew up with, the people of OKC.

Which is why when the devastating tornado touched ground in Moore on May 21st, leveling entire city blocks and taking 24 lives, including 9 children, it was only natural that this eclectic group would find a way to bring people together and raise money for the victims in a setting that would celebrate who we are as proud, resilient Oklahomans.