Wassail

 

This recipe is a repeat from an earlier post. Courtney called and said Dave wanted my wassail recipe, so here goes:

When I first quit drinking, I kind of missed having something festive to sip during the holidays. Eggnog just doesn't cut it without the "nog," as we say, although a good nonalcoholic cup with plenty of nutmeg can be tasty. I started researching wassail recipes because it seemed like such a neat idea. After reviewing a ton of recipes here's my take on wassail. I'm going to give proportions, rather than strict measurements because that's how I make mine. I've also started to use lemonade because I don't add sugar. I will, however add honey if I think the wassail needs to be sweetened. This makes it taste wonderful, while soothing the throat so you can sing more choruses of "Grandma got run over by a reindeer," although in honor of me, it should be "Grandma got run over by a Dodge truck."

Mom's Wassail
Twice as much apple juice or cider as orange juice and twice as much orange juice as lemonade.
2 allspice berries, three cinnamon sticks, 3 whole cloves, 1 cardamon pod, about 5 slices of fresh ginger or use about a tablespoon of crystallized ginger. Wrap all of this in cheese cloth tied off.
About a quarter cup of honey or to taste
Put the liquid in a crock pot. Add the cheesecloth-wrapped spices and honey. As the wassail cooks, it will need to be diluted. Add water to taste -- in fact you can add water right away if it seems too strong.

What it's like to get hit by a truck

I've been visiting doctors pretty consistently since my accident. I've never been a big fan of visiting the doctor's office because either there's nothing wrong with me and my symptoms, therefore, can't be treated. Or it's something chronic, like asthma or irritable bowel syndrome, which are just things you have to live with. Basically I'm a very healthy person. I have a lot of stupid chronic things wrong with me -- mitral valve prolapse, super bad hay fever, acid reflux, along with the aforementioned asthma, which really isn't very bad, and the IBS. But these things are under control and I can go ages between doctor's visits.

These days, however, I'm at some kind of appointment at least once a week, and it's getting on my nerves. This past week, I had to have the hemotoma on my hip drained. It didn't hurt at all, mainly because my knee was throbbing so much, I really didn't pay much attention to the hip draining. As I went in to get the procedure the nurses started asking about the accident. I'm starting to know all the nurses at my various doctor's offices and the subject of the details of the accident come up. People are curious. What is it like, besides the obvious pain, to get hit by a truck?

I was riding along the Ventura River bike path, which winds around the Oil Country building as it approaches the Stanley Street crossing. You ride parallel to the traffic as it comes off Hwy 33, so people can see you approaching the crossing. A blue car had spotted me as it was going east and started slowing as it approached the crossing. I always appreciate people who watch for bicyclists because so many people just ignore them and cut you off or fly through a marked flashing intersection just because they're jerks. I thought it was really cool that the car was slowing because it was later in the day -- 4:45 -- which is approaching rush hour when traffic gets crazy.

I slowed way down, although I was never going very fast. My bike is a big heavy cruiser, which is the only kind of bike I ride. It's really hard to get it going and most people smaller than I am won't ride it because it requires a lot of strength to make it move. This is why I like it because it's a really good workout for me since I can't do things that require too much panting because of the asthma. I also like to sit up when I ride. The racing bike position with my butt higher than my head makes me feel as though I'm falling. So I cut quite the non-cool figure, what with my plastic basket with plastic flowers, my gymc shorts and my t-shirts.

I saw that a big, white van had stopped in the westbound lane and that there was no traffic in the far left lane, and my duded in the dark blue car had stopped and was waving me through. Everyone was stopped for me and there was a lot of traffic, so I started through the intersection, passing through the pylons that activate the flashing lights. I was going pretty slowly and had passed the blue car and was in front of the white van, which I noticed had handicapped license places. I had been craning my neck to look around the white van and hadn't seen anyone approaching it. Rob and I have always referred to the old crossing sucker accident where one guy will allow traffic to pass in front of him only to have cars going the other way smash into the poor crosser. We always watch out for the empty lane and I had seen nothing.

But just as I was getting past the van I caught a glimpse of a red truck barrelling toward me in the far left lane. I was almost past the van, but I instinctively locked up my pedal brakes, hoping to stop in time, but bikes don't stop on a dime. I heard the truck's brakes lock up as I was rounding the van, but I knew then that a collision was unavoidable. There was the "Oh shit." moment. Then the quick, "Maybe this won't be so bad.' Followed by a retreat deep into my mind.

One of the things I learned as a child was that if something really horrible was going to happen -- something really painful that you couldn't avoid -- that you could go deep inside your mind and you can't get hurt. I've learned that this is a learned response to extreme abuse, but it can come in handy in an emergency. I've always held to the belief that if death is imminent, it is important to make the mind as still and as calm as possible as you face your end. I'm not sure why it's important, but it's important to me that my last moment of life isn't one of fear and panic.

One time when I broke my wrist and I was waiting in the emergency room an elderly woman was being treated near me. I could only hear her as she started to cry, "I'm so afraid. I don't want to die. I'm so afraid." The nurse reassured her, "It's OK. Don't be afraid. You're going to be alright. It's OK." But she wasn't. There was just the sound of people rustling as they worked and the machines beeping -- not all the talking and clamor you see in the TV shows. No one said much. Then finally, the nurse said, "Well, should I put her things together to give to the family?" And I realized that the woman had died and that she had been terrified and begging not to go.

I decided that I didn't want to be terrified. I wanted to face the other side, whatever it may be, with quiet dignity. I'm not sure why it would even matter, after all dead is dead. But to me it's important.

So I made my mind go still and my body went completely limp. I felt the impact of the truck hitting my right hip. It was SMASH. As hard as I've ever been hit. I was flying through the air. I could hear people's voices going, "Oooooooooo," all around me. I kept my eyes shut. My mind was miles away. I was on the ground. I opened my eyes. I was alive. I was hurt, but I knew immediately nothing was broken -- well maybe my hip, which really hurt. But I did a mental inventory and it all checked out OK.

A guy came up to me. He wasn't very tall. He was Hispanic and wearing a brown shirt, I think. He asked if I was OK and I said, "No." He said what can I do?" I said, "Call 911." Other people came up and asked if I was OK. Someone noticed there was blood on my head and asked if I was wearing a helmet. I said yes and someone held it up and it had a big chunk out of it and they said, "You were really lucky to be wearing this. Some guy farther away from me over on my right said, "You should get your head out of the road." I realized it was hanging upside down off the curb and my body was on the shoulder. So I scootched up. When I scootched, I had the opportunity to move and realized everything was working.

I told the people around me to just let me lie there until the paramedics came. I'd just taken a Red Cross course two months before and was all up-to-date on what to do. So there I was. I realized there were ants crawling all over me and they were biting me. I almost laughed. It was just one of those things. "I'm having a really bad day," I thought and smiled. I mean as bad days go, this one was really proving itself to be the Chuck Norris of bad days. I tired to get my cell phone out so I could call Rob, but I realized that the screen had been smashed -- it was in the pocket that was hit -- and without the screen, I had no idea who I was calling.

A paramedic approached me and asked if I was OK. I said my hip hurt and he said to just sit still. He said he was transporting a patient to Vista Del Mar, the local psychiatric facility, and according to California state law any paramedic on a non-emergency call must stop and give aid if he is first on the scene of an accident. So he pretty much stood there and told me not to move. The firefighters arrived next. The paramedic dude explained himself, so the firefighters took over. One of them said, "Did you know there are ants crawling all over you?" I said, "Yeah could you brush them off please. I feel like I'm in Hell right now." He smiled and brushed them off.

The other paramedics arrived and I got the same old questions, "How old? How tall? how much do you weigh? Did you lose consciousness? Does your back hurt? Can you move your legs?" They tried to sit me up, but as soon as they did I got really dizzy. I told them to put me down, that I was getting shocky. I could just tell. I was losing sensation in my extremities and starting to get really cold and shivery, all signs of shock. So they put me down and lifted me onto the board and strapped me in. They lifted me into the ambulance and I was strapped in there. They put in an IV because of the shocky-ness and gave me a blanket. It was kind of wobbly as we drove; I kept having to brace myself. The paramedic gave me her cell phone so I could call Rob.

She actually placed the call and asked for him. I told him I'd been hit by a truck and was heading to Community Memorial. He said he'd meet me there.

The rest of the night was waiting. Waiting for the doctors. Waiting for the x-ray people. Nothing was broken, so they let me off the board. I'd been on it for almost four of the most excruciating hours of my life. I've talked to other people who've been on the board and they say the same thing. It may well save lives, but damned, it's painfully uncomfortable.

The care was sporadic. A nurse would come in and maybe wipe off a small part of my road rash, then she'd take off. Rob finally got the wipes down and did it himself, thank God he did because I never got any infection. The doctor finally gave me a pain shot and they sent me home. It was hard to walk. I was pretty beat up. We stopped by the pharmacy and got Vicodin and some antibiotic ointment and headed home.

The next few weeks were a haze of pain, sleeping, limping. I saw my doctor and with nothing obviously wrong, we decided to wait and see what ended up shaking out. I mean at first everything hurt so much, it was hard to tell what was wrong where. He wasn't happy with my swollen ankle, so he gave me a referral for that and a referral for physical therapy. I also stopped by a lawyer's office.

As I've documented before, the swollen ankle turned out to be a ruptured tendon, which required surgery Sept. 14. My foot has healed as well as can be expected, maybe even better. But it's still swollen and tender and the doctor said I'll have to expect that. Tendon repair is very painful and takes a long time. I also have a titanium peg in my ankle to straighten it up.

My left knee, which was hurt when the bike slammed into it, has broken bone fragments, a torn meniscus and all kinds of other problems. The doctor took one look at the films and said knee replacement, but now he's thinking arthroscopic to start, which is fine with me because so far things have turned out better when they've gotten into them. My foot doctor was pretty grim about my foot, but said the tendon was actually cleanly torn and easy to repair. The doctor who drained the hemotoma on my hip -- I've had huge lump on my hip for over six months -- was pleased to see that the fluid hadn't jelled, requiring more extensive surgery -- although now I have a lovely fat lump on my hip -- sexy. I see the knee doctor after Christmas and we'll set surgery then.

This whole thing has proven so much harder than I would ever have imagined. The part that's the worst is the long, drawn-out process it all is. I'm just so over it all and ready to move on with my life.

So bascially to sum it up, if you want my opinion about getting hit by a truck, I'd have to say ... it's best to avoid it.

Palmiers and Christmas baking

 

I decided this year, since I wasn't going to be as busy as I am when Courtney and family are here, that I wanted to make something a little more daring. I've always loved palmiers, which are basically just puffed pastry cooked with sugar and cinnamon as little cookies. They're a lot like elephant ears.

All of the cooking shows make a big deal out of puff pastry, so I've never ventured to make it because it looks so complicated. It also takes about 5 hours to prepare them what with the repeated rolling and chilling. But I found that using these instruction was really easy, especially the incorporating part. The dough rolled out really easily. I obviously didn't quite get how to fold the cookies, but I think I can do better next time.

Oh and I did make one discovery. The recipe says to the chill the logs on a cookie sheet, which I did. But then I needed to put one in the oven and the other stayed in the refrigerator until I was ready for it. So I just got another cookie sheet lined with a Silpat mat (which I highly recommend) to bake the first batch. But since it wasn't as cold when I put it in the oven that batch of cookies didn't puff as much. So always bake the cookies on a cold cookie sheet. I was afraid they'd burn ,but they showed no signs of scorching.

And the cookies. They melt in your mouth and are as light as air.

Cinnamon palmiers (Courtesy of Gourmet Magazine)
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, frozen
5 to 6 tablespoons ice water
1 cup sugar
2 teaspoons cinnamon

Stir together flour and salt in a chilled large metal bowl. Coarsely grate frozen butter into flour, gently tossing to coat butter.

Drizzle 5 tablespoons ice water evenly over flour mixture and gently stir with a fork until incorporated. Test mixture by gently squeezing a small handful: When dough has the proper texture, it will hold together without crumbling apart. If necessary, add another tablespoon water, stirring until just incorporated, and test again. (Do not overwork dough or add too much water, or pastry will be tough; dough will be lumpy and streaky.)

Form dough into a 5-inch square, then chill, wrapped in plastic wrap, until firm, at least 30 minutes.

Roll out dough on a floured surface with a floured rolling pin into a 15- by 8-inch rectangle (with a short side nearest you). Brush off excess flour and fold dough into thirds like a letter. Rewrap dough and chill until firm, at least 30 minutes.

Arrange dough with a short side nearest you on a floured surface and repeat rolling out, folding, and chilling 2 more times. Brush off any excess flour, then halve dough crosswise with a sharp knife and chill, wrapped separately in plastic wrap, at least 1 hour.

Stir together sugar and cinnamon, then generously sprinkle a clean work surface with some of cinnamon sugar and place 1 piece of chilled dough on top. Quickly roll out into a 16- by 12-inch rectangle (1/8 to 1/16 inch thick; if dough becomes too soft, chill on a baking sheet until firm). Trim edges with a sharp knife. Sprinkle top of dough evenly with some cinnamon sugar to cover completely, brushing off any excess. Fold 2 opposite long sides of pastry so they meet in center. Fold in same sides of pastry in same manner, then fold one half over the other (like a book) and press gently with a rolling pin to flatten slightly, forming a long rectangular log. Sprinkle with additional cinnamon sugar if dough is sticky.

Chill on a baking sheet, uncovered, until firm, at least 30 minutes and up to 2 hours. Meanwhile, repeat with remaining piece of dough and cinnamon sugar.

Preheat oven to 425°F with rack in middle. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.

Cut 1 log of dough crosswise into 1/4-inch-thick slices with a sharp knife and arrange slices, cut sides down, 1 1/2 inches apart on baking sheet. Bake until puffed and golden around edges, 7 to 9 minutes. Remove from oven and turn palmiers over with a spatula. (If palmiers begin to unroll, gently press to reshape when cooled slightly.) Continue baking until golden all over and sugar is caramelized, 3 to 5 minutes more. Transfer as done (palmiers may not bake evenly) to a rack and cool. Make more cookies on cooled baking sheet lined with fresh parchment.

Cook's notes:
• Dough, without cinnamon sugar, can be chilled, wrapped well, up to 2 days or frozen up to 1 month (thaw in refrigerator).
• Cookies keep in an airtight container at room temperature 4 days. If desired, palmiers can be recrisped in a 300°F oven until heated through, about 5 minutes.

Christmas bells are ringing

 

Rob has been bugging me for a while to make him "cookies that taste like brownies." I've made all sorts of chocolate cookies, but none has been "brownie-like" enough. So this year, I decided to do an online search for brownie cookies and was getting all set to make them when the Rob-ster came home with a package of brownie mix.

"They were on sale," he said.

I was pretty much going to ignore him and the mix and embark on a brownie cookie, after all I'm no Sandra Lee (the Semi-homemade lady) when I found a brownie mix cookie recipe. I decided to take that as a base and make cookies that tasted like brownies, only better. I decided to add some good Dutch-process cocoa because the brownie mix cocoa isn't nearly as good and I love the flavor of good cocoa. I also added some vanilla and a touch of almond flavoring, which really adds a special dimension to the cookies.

Then, in a moment of inspiration, I got the idea of rolling the cookies in confectioner's sugar before baking them. They really came out quite good. They're amazingly easy to make and I was able to take a picture before Rob finished devouring them.

Brownie cookies

1 pkg. fudge brownie mix
1/4 cup Dutch process cocoa (Such as Droste)
1/4 cup flour
1/4 cup melted butter
3 tablespoons water
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
1 cup chopped walnuts
1 cup chocolate chips (optional) (you could also add peppermint pieces or butterscotch pieces)
Confectioner's sugar

Combine all ingredients, mixing by hand. Chill in refrigerator for at least a half an hour. Using two tablespoons, spoon out a one-inch ball of batter (it doesn't have to be a perfect ball, just a blob of batter will do) and roll it in confectioners sugar until the ball is coated (the cookie will become more ball-like as you roll it quickly using just one or two fingers. Place on cookie sheet lined with a Silpat mat or parchment paper. Bake until just set at 350 degrees, about 12 to 14 minutes. Cool for a minute and place on cookie racks to finish cooling.

30 minutes? Who has the time?

 

I've developed an odd fascination with Rachael Ray lately. I'm not sure if it's the oppressive perkiness -- no adult woman should ever giggle that much -- or if it's envy. How can someone with such limited culinary skills be such a huge success? I've heard her describe her path to the top and it sounds as though she was one of the lucky ones. One of those people who just happen to be in the right place at the right time, unlike me who tends to be in the right place just after the right time has passed.

One of the things I find fascinating about Ms. Ray is the whole 30 minutes deal. From what I've heard from other people and from what I've read, no one can complete her recipes in 30 minutes. I've watched her closely and it's pretty obvious she cheats. She puts food in the oven to "cook" but often is seen touching the rack with her bare hands, which means it's getting cooked off-camera separately. During her breaks she tends to accomplish about 20 minutes worth of work, including frying up whole batches of pepper-sauce-flavored pancake batter-coated chicken(ewwwwww), when she only had three coated and half fried before the break, for example.

That's all well and good I suppose, although it would be better if she were a little more honest and would show in real time how long it really takes for the water to boil or meats to cook. I find her recipes to be fairly competent when she sticks with Italian food -- she's spent a lot of time studying it and was even married in Italy. But others, such as the afore-mentioned "Buffalo chicken chunks," the pancake batter fried scallion cakes she served, the revolting chicken pot pie without the crust (Um that would be chicken stew ...) seem to come from someone who really doesn't stop and taste her creations with an objective eye. Often she sacrifices taste for haste and the results aren't pretty or palatable.

I've been working on some recipes that really, truly don't take a lot of time. And these are pretty nutritious and inexpensive to make. During the holiday season when you're trying to stretch the monetary and time budget as far as you can, fast, good and cheap is especially welcome.

The first recipe is for spaghetti. One of the things I've learned to do, and everyone else should be doing, is reading the labels of the prepared food I buy. Spaghetti sauce in a jar is one of those things that seems like a good idea, but when you look at the sugar, sodium and preservatives that are listed in these sauces, making your own -- which is super easy -- is an attractive option. And when you taste this dish, you'll be glad you skipped the jar because this tastes fresh and delicious. This recipe is a repeat from an earlier post, but it's worth it.

Spaghetti with tomato/sausage sauce

3 tablespoons olive oil
1 pound sweet Italian sausage
1 large green bell pepper, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 40-ounce cans Progresso crushed tomatoes with puree (Do not get the flavored varieties, just plain old tomatoes are what you want)
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon salt
3 bay leaves
1 cup red wine (a Merlot or Cabernet is good here)
1 1/2 pounds cooked spaghetti
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Heat oil in medium-hot Dutch oven and add sausages with the casings removed. Break up with a wooden spoon or spatula. Add peppers and onions when the sausage is starting to brown. You may have to drain the grease if your sausages are fatty. If so, do it now. Cook until veggies are translucent. Add garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds to a minute. Do not brown the garlic. Add tomatoes. Stir thoroughly. Add oregano, salt and bay leaves and stir. Add wine and stir. Bring sauce to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for at least an hour. Cook about a pound and a half of spaghetti (or whatever pasta you desire), until it is al dente in a larger stockpot. Drain. Put the pasta back in the stock pot and add the sauce and cheese and stir it all up over low heat. Serve with garlic bread and salad.

I also use Dreamfields pasta, which only has 5 digestable carbs per serving. It tastes just like regular pasta, but the wheat carbs are rendered ineffective by some kind of process. It really seems to work and it's really good.

I make my garlic bread by buying one of the large French bread loaves available fresh at most supermarkets. I slice the loaves into 1 inch slices, almost through the bread. I butter each slice on both sides and sprinkle with a generous amount of garlic powder (not salt). I wrap the bread in aluminum foil and put in in a 350 oven for 30 minutes.

The follwing recipe is super, duper simple and is about as healthy as food gets. Stick with Trader Joe's for the stir fry veggies and the frozen, precooked rice for almost instant food.

Pork Stir Fry

3 tablespoons canola oil
1 to 1 1/2 pounds pork -- buy whatever cut is least expensive, such as the "country ribs," and cut it into 1/2 inch strips.
garlic powder
Trader Joe's fresh stir fry vegetables (there are usually two varieties available)
Stir fry sauce (Check out the Asian food section of your grocery and get the one you like best. Keep an eye out for labels and try to stick with the lowest sugar added)
Soy sauce
Frozen Jasmine rice, cooked in the microwave according to directions

Heat the oil in a wok. Add the pork and season with the garlic powder. Cook over high heat until the meat starts to brown, about five minutes. Add vegetables and add about 3 tablespoons of the stir fry sauce and about 2 to 3 tablespoons of the soy sauce. Stir fry for just a couple of minutes or until all the veggies are just barely cooked. Serve with the rice.

You can make this recipe with beef or chicken. If you don't want to go to Trader Joe's, get some bok choy or Napa cabbage and cut into 1/3 inch strips. Add sliced oyster or any other variety of mushrooms. You can add mung bean sprouts if you like or some edamame. Chop some broccoli or some carrots. Whatever you like.

The following recipe is another almost-instant. It almost beats the drive-thru window. Heck, I made it during the COMMERCIAL of Rachel Ray's 30-minute cooking show. And it's really quite yummy. Once again, this is a really healthy meal. I always make this the day after we have roast chicken because we have leftovers, but you could use a rotisserie chicken.

Chicken and vegetable tacos

3 tablespoons olive oil
2 cups cooked chicken shredded
3 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder (not garlic salt)
1 teaspoon salt
Cayenne pepper to taste
1 small bag of frozen Southwestern style vegetables. These tend to have black beans peppers and corn
1/4 cup water
Taco shells
shredded cheddar cheese
shredded lettuce (you can chop the lettuce in a salad mix, if you like)
salsa
hot sauce, if desired
sour cream

If you're feeling really lazy, you can skip using the spices and use a taco seasoning mix, but I like the control over the salt and other ingredients, including preservatives. Heat the oil in a skillet and add the chicken and the seasonings and stir. Add the frozen vegetables and water. Heat until vegetables are cooked through, just a minute or two. Heat taco shells in a microwave for about 20 seconds. The box says to heat them longer, but they burn quickly. Have everyone assemble the tacos putting the chicken mixture in first and then adding toppings.

Thankless Thanksgiving

 

This hasn't been the best year, so I wasn't surprised when I checked with my various regular Thanksgiving dinner guests to find out that everyone had other plans. My overall luck of late hasn't been terribly good, and I've found that expecting the worst tends to dull the edge of constant disappointment -- a little bit. I've also gotten to the point where I'm just sick of the whole "bad turn of the Karma wheel," as I like to call it. It's time to spit in the face of the fates and decide I'm not going to be miserable no matter how crappy things are.

So I went ahead and ordered a nice, organic, free-range turkey from the local market, Westridge Market in Ojai. I got the smallest one they had. I made sure we had all the sides, although I cut back and only included the ones Rob and I really like. We also cleaned the dining room and I put out our festive Thanksgiving settings. I did cut back a bit. I only baked one pie, not the usual three. I only made one kind of cranberry sauce, instead of the normal two.

Dena told us she would be able to come over later -- she got off work around 7 p.m. in L.A., so she'd be here around 8. She had stopped by earlier and she told me she wanted some collard greens. I love collards green made with salt pork, but I know enough about them to convert them to a vegetarian version. Dena also loves sweet potatoes, so I got some. But because she was coming so late, we decided to eat earlier. In fact, Rob would prefer to eat around 1 p.m., while I insist on eating around 5 p.m. I'm the cook, so guess who wins that argument.

Rob and I decided we were going to make the meal a Big Deal even if it was just the two of us. Rob scrubbed the dining room. I managed to make all the sides, despite the fact that my bad foot is still quite tender. We had our usual turkey and stuffing (cornbread, almonds, celery, dried cranberries and currants). Rob is only interested in corn, turkey and mashed potatoes. He really doesn't like gravy, but it isn't Thanksgiving without a good giblet gravy for me, so that's what I made. So in addition to the mashed potatoes, we had creamed onions, turnips roasted in the turkey fat and sprinkled with rosemary, green beans with toasted almonds and pureed summer squash. Oh yeah, I also had some Rhodes rolls.

Dinner was ready at 5 on the Dot, which makes Rob happy -- well as happy as he can be not having his crack of Noon meal. We sat down to our full plates. Up til then, we really had been working on cheering each other up. But when we got to the actual meal the loneliness was crushing and we both lost our enthusiasm. I guess while other people count dollars in their bank account or karats in their rings, we count friends and family as our treasure and we were feeling quite depleted this year. So we finished our food in silence and I went to lie down, while Rob cleaned the kitchen.

Soon the phone rang and it was Gen of the comedy duo Gen and Sean, or Seanifer. They wanted to let us know that they missed us -- they go up to Gen's family Thanksgiving in Paso Robles -- about a three-hour drive each way, every few years and eat out at a restaurant. Then Tressa came over followed by Dena. I got up and made Dena her collard greens, which came out great. I also made the sweet potatoes with pecans, maple syrup and orange and served her the creamed onions she'd been hankering, along with green beans, squash and rolls. A friend of Tressa's came over and we sat around and chatted until almost 11 p.m.

No one had had any room for the pumpkin right after dinner so Rob and I had some after they left. Note to self: The King Arthur flour white whole wheat flour does NOT make a good pie crust, stick with unbleached. We both were in much better spirits. That's all we need, we decided, just someone to come by and hang out with us for a while and we're both happy. It's not that we don't enjoy each other's company, but we've been together so long, we've replayed conversations to death. Rob isn't one for idle chatter, and actually I find I'm not a big fan either, which is odd because I used to be such a chatterbox. It's nice to sit around with other people and just connect over a good meal.

Overall, it turned out to be a very lovely Thanksgiving and although it's been a bit rough here lately, we still have a great deal to be thankful for.

Vegetarian (vegan) collard greens

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 pounds collard greens. stems removed and chopped into 1/2 inch pieces -- roll the leaves and cut across in strips, then chop the strips.
3 shallots, chopped
1 quart vegetable broth
Tabasco sauce to taste (you can also use dried red pepper flakes)
salt and pepper

Heat the oil in a Dutch oven and add the shallots, cook until translucent and add greens. Saute in the oil until the greens wilt. Add broth and salt and pepper and cover and cook for about 20 minutes. Add Tobasco to taste and cook and additional 10 minutes or until somewhat soft, but with some crunch.

 

Turkey talk

One thing I started thinking about was the evolution of the Thanksgiving turkey preparation over the years.

When I was a kid, we always bought frozen turkeys. That was all they seemed to have. It was always a big deal to defrost them on time, but in those days it was no big deal to leave them out until they were thawed. They were always filled with stuffing, which was made with eggs added and the stuffing stayed in the bird for days, or until the carcass disappeared. I think the reason so few got food poisoning from the stuffing then was because it got so nasty and gross so fast, no one would venture to try it.

Then in my 20s, we discovered that fresh birds were far superior. They were a specialty at first, and I always had to track them down. By this time, people had figured out that defrosting meat on the counter wasn't such a great idea and the turkey had to be defrosted in the refrigerator, which took days. But since I'd moved on to fresh turkey, it was OK by me.

A few years later, though I heard tell of a new-fangled kind of "best turkey," the free-range bird, which had lived a happy turkey life wandering around eating feed, not a horrible, crammed in pens and de-beaked existence. Plus they were supposed to taste better. Again, they were rare at first, but gained in popularity and soon I was fighting to get mine every year.

Now we're up to "heirloom' turkeys, which are supposed to hearken back to the breeds of yore when a turkey "tasted like a turkey (??????). Although I'm convinced it's all about making us spend more money on the turkey because I really haven't noticed a great deal of difference in the free range or heirloom brands.

We also obsess about food safety. Most experts say not to even stuff a turkey, because of food safety concerns. If you do, get the stuffing out right away. Also make sure to refrigerate the bird quickly to stave off illness. No leaving it on the counter for 5 hours, which my parents used to do.

Turkey preparation has also evolved. My parents stuck the thing in a roasting pan and let 'er rip. Then we had to use racks. The latest thing is brining. Every time you turn on the Food Channel, someone is talking about the joys of soaking the bird and all the magazines have brining tips.

I've found brining to be a logistical nightmare, especially if it's a really big bird. I bought a "brining sack" at Sur La Table a few years back and tried to put the turkey and the water in it and place it in a pan, but it leaked all over the place and was useless. This year I brined the bird by placing one cup of kosher salt (BTW did you know kosher means the meat is already brined? I didn't, but it's true), one lemon and herbs de provence along with enough water to fill up the roasting pan with the turkey in it. I flipped the bird every four hours for about 16 hours and then dried it off and let it sit on a rack that I had propped off the ground with aluminum foil, overnight, because the Chinese always air dry their poultry to get crispy skins. (You heard it here first, air drying is going to be the Next Rage).

The turkey came out great, moist and tasty. I need to brine because I tend to overcook the turkey a bit because I really really don't like underdone poultry.

Isn't it odd that as time goes on food becomes less and less safe? You'd think it should be the other way around.

Chickpeas and Chowhound

 

For those of you who don't know Chowhound is a site "For those who like to eat." There are really cool forums where you can sound off about a variety of topics. I'd heard, however, that their moderating is highly subjective and arbitrary. I've posed a couple of questions -- innocuous things like
what are your guilty pleasures -- and so forth.

But I apparently have run afoul of the whole Jane Goldman operation when I posed the following question:

What would be your ideal TV cooking show if you could create one?
Personally, I'd like a little less "personality" and gimmicks -- BAM, EVOO, y'all, etc. -- and a return to the Food Channel shows of yore. I really liked Ready, Set, Cook with audience members buying ingredients for chefs to transform in 20 minutes. I'd also really like to see more shows where true chefs show how to work in a kitchen -- I totally love Ming Tsai and Mario because they know so much about food. The current crop of TV hosts leaves me cold. What do you think?

I thought this would be thought-provoking and would shy away from the Chowhound aversion to "bashing" TV hosts, putting a positive spin on what people want from television. I got this in my mail box after several people had provided some really interesting answers to my query:

Hi Fuser, you've been sent the following by a Chowhound moderator:

Dear Fuser:

Chowhound's goal is to help people sort through their myriad chow options to find the most delicious food available to them - or in the case of the Food Media and News board, current TV shows, books, magazines etc. Speculation about what one's ideal TV cooking show would doesn't help anyone watch better now, so to speak, so they're off topic for our boards - just as discussions about what restaurants an area needs are.

The Chowhound Team
Chowhound.com

I don't know if others follow such things, but I do and Rob and I saw a recent Chowhound segment that featured the legendary Jane Goldman -- the editor of Chowhound -- ostensibly "reviewing" a local (to the Bay Area) restaurant. But as the piece progressed, it became apparent the review was, in fact, a fawning advertisement for the place.

It's too bad Ms. Goldman, like so many editors these days, is terrified of public opinion and works mightily, and with futility, to control the discourse. A small group of people has been in charge of what the public knows for a long period of time. I've worked for many of them -- petty men and women who make decisions out of fear for their positions, not out of any journalistic ethic -- and know that they are terrified of losing what has been their only power -- a huge power at that -- the power to control information.

To me, this is the greatest gift and curse of the new age of information we are venturing into. We can bypass the traditional sources of information and opinion and find them on our own. I don't know if anyone is following the case of the Missouri girl who committed suicide after being taunted by neighboring adults. The media has decided not to name these people because they haven't yet been changed with any crime. But if you follow this link, you can find out those names. Personally, I look beyond the law to determine what I think is right or wrong. Even if there's no law against adults harassing a child, it's wrong. It's especially wrong when that child then acts out in a tragic way as Megan Meier did. It is not the province of the media to decide whether these people whould be identified or not. If you don't want your name associated with a heinous act, then don't commit it.

The tide has turned and it no longer the domain of a very few to decide what the rest of us can or can not discuss; what we can or cannot know. I've heard all the arguments they give about how they are "being fair," but fairness tends to be the last consideration in a newsroom and all "news judgements" are ultimately arbitrary depending largely on the editor's whims.

On the other hand, there was a really cool recipe on Chowhound that I tried the other day. It was for fried chickpeas and it was really tasty. I've tried to make these before, but they always come out kind of chalky, chewy gross. This made them quite delectable with a nice crunchy crust and soft, warm insides. The fried sage melts in the mouth and is delicious.

Fried chickpeas

1 can chickpeas
1/2 cup flour
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
salt to taste
10 or so large fresh sage leaves cut into one-half in strips

Rinse and drain the chickpeas. Mix the flour, paprika, and salt and place on a plate. Roll the chickpeas in the flour until they're covered. Heat 1/2 inch canola oil in a sturdy skillet. Add the chickpeas and fry until they are a golden brown, about 3 5o 5 minutes and drain on paper towels. Fry the sage, about a minute and drain on paper towels. Serve warm.

So despite the rather lock-step approach to message boards, there is still some good there. Just steer clear of any of the Chowhound TV shows -- they're AWFUL.

The.worst.experience.ever (and it wasn't the food)

We went to Las Vegas this past weekend because Rob's niece, Jessica, was getting married and we'd never been to Vegas. Everyone in Southern California has been to Vegas and pretty much everyone we know loves going there as often as possible. Rob and I have never really been tempted by Sin City -- we don't gamble, we don't drink and we don't have any weird sexual fantasies (OK I can only speak for myself on that last one, but as far as I know ...)


We'd been invited to this wedding early in the summer and Rob really wanted to go and see Jessica and I wanted to see Vegas. I had not foreseen at the time we made this decision that I would be unable to walk. Even when I knew about the surgery, even when the doctor said I'd be facing a long recovery, it really never added up. Even when I DID know how bad being semi-disabled was, I figured that Vegas was all man-made and the ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) would require everything to be accessible.

I figured we'd rent a scooter, which is expensive but worth it, and called ahead for one and asked for a special room with a bathroom for people with disabilities, which included a special shower bench (I have one for home BTW). It all seemed good. Of course, it wasn't.

First when we got to our hotel -- the Sahara -- we had to wait for more than 30 minutes by the bell station to even get the attention of the only guy who seemed able to rent the scooters. If you're on crutches, putting all your weight on a leg with a knee that has been diagnosed as beyond repair, you can't teeter there for too long.

After we got to our room we decided to go cruise around the Sahara grounds, after all neither of us has ever been in a casino. We got an elevator and I maneuvered the scooter into it. As we went down one guy got on with us -- but at the next floor the guy wouldn't get on, even through there was plenty of room. "He's afraid the cripple will rub off," I said to Rob, much to the amusement of the other guy in the elevator.

As the weekend progressed, we learned that elevators are a danger zone for people with disabilities. There was more than one occasion when we would be waiting and an elevator would come and everyone would run to it and shut the doors. leaving us there. I got progressively more aggressive about just scooting by/at people -- after all a scooter is going to hurt if you run into it.

I would say the world is divided into three parts. About a third of the people are really helpful and would make every effort to help. The other two-thirds either try to ignore the scooter or are openly hostile -- cutting me off
or blocking me.

Rob and I wandered around the casino, but we've never gambled, so we were a bit intimidated. No casino staff made any effort to help us out, even when we hovered by the roulette tables. I wondered if it had something to do with the superstitious nature of gamblers, who could tell at a glance that I'm not someone with very good luck. I wasn't sure we were being ignored until I saw the dealer dudes be all friendly and welcoming to other people who stood at the edge of the table. I did manage to lose $10 on a slot machine -- I won a couple of spins, but eventually lost it all.

We did go to the buffet, and while I could pick out what I wanted, it was impossible to carry a plate. What most people don't realize is that people who can't use their legs tend to have to use their hands to get around. If I'm on crutches, I have to use my hands to hold on, if I'm in a scooter I need my hands to make it move and to steer. It really didn't matter where I positioned myself, some people would make a Big Point of rudely reaching past me, even if the same stuff was directly in front of them. Another impossibility is doors. Big double glass doors are everywhere in Vegas and only a very few have buttons or sensors to open for people with disabilities. You can't get through them unless someone holds them open. This requires a lot of waiting, but it's also somehow demeaning. I can't go through a door when I want to, I have to wait for someone else to be kind enough to let me through.

I was getting increasingly uncomfortable with all of the limitations and the rude reactions of so many people. And while I'm more than grateful with the kindness of so many others, I'm not much for being the object of someone else's pity, so it's uncomfortable. I'm not a person who likes a lot of attention when I'm in public, and being disabled makes you the center of everyone's attention -- even if it's only for the freaky curiosity factor.

Rob and I found out that we would have to wait for a special taxi for the handicapped so we got ready to go over the the Mandalay Bay early and went down to the valet station at the Sahara. We ended up waiting about 45 minutes before a cab could be found that could take the scooter. I almost wiped out getting out because I had to back it down a ramp and I was having one of those Moments when I just couldn't figure out what I was doing. It was hysterical because I got more and more flustered and was about to kill myself by falling off the sides. I would go back and then jerk the steering. I'm not sure why. It was just a moment. Rob finally said DON'T move your arms, DON'T steer and I made it off.

We arrived in plenty of time for the wedding, which was really sweet. Jessica looked beautiful and is obviously in love. It was great to catch up with people we hadn't seen since her last wedding, especially for Rob who has a lot of history with everyone, this being his side of the family and all.

Then we went to the restaurant. We had reservations for 8 p.m. The restaurant is Mix, which is an Alain Ducasse restaurant and is really a lovely upscale place (see the picture above). We were waiting and waiting when I found out that the reason we were waiting was because the meal was going to be served in a small room at the top of a sweeping staircase in the middle of the restaurant. Jessica and her husband Daniel had begged and pleaded with restaurant staff to move us so I could just roll on in, but the restaurant staff was implacable. We were stuck with the room up the staircase. Screw ADA, screw even just being nice to cripples.

If there's one thing I really can't handle on crutches, it's stairs. It's a complicated balancing act that tends to propel me dangerously off-balance. A "sweeping staircase" was a nightmare for me. Rob just wanted to leave, but I didn't want to cause a scene and be rude to Jessica and Daniel. Of course going up the stairs, one torturous step at a time with people in front of me and behind me, right in the middle of the restaurant caused more than a scene. It was one of the most uncomfortable and humiliating experiences of my life. By the time I got to my place -- to much hand clapping *cringe* I was in tears. Of course it hit me then that I really needed to go to the bathroom. Sometimes life really sucks and not in a funny way.

Jessica and Daniel were mortified on my behalf and were hugely apologetic. But it wasn't their fault. The meal was amazing. The food was incredible and the service was professional, with an Alec Baldwin lookalike sommalier and the kind of waiters who fold your napkin if you leave the table. Unfortunately I was so upset that it took me a while before I was even able to eat. Fortunately I sat next to my son-in-law Ryan who is an eating machine -- one of those tall skinny guys who can just eat and eat and it doesn't seem to go anywhere. I was able to pass the food I couldn't eat to him much to his delight.

Part of my problem was the idea of facing the stairs going down. It's really really hard to go downstairs on crutches because you have to plant the crutches and bounce on one leg downward putting all your weight on your armpits. This action propels you forward and you don't really have much control. I really didn't want to be the floor show again, plus I was just plain terrified of being hurt again.

The setting was amazing with thousands of hand-blown glass balls of various sizes with mercury balls interspersed with lights in them. It was a beautiful, if strangely sterile and unwelcoming, place. It made me ever more sad to know that if I were walking normally, this would have been a delightful evening for us. After all, it's not every day you can go to a world-class restaurant on someone else's dime.

Rob, Ryan and I all had the beef tenderloin, which was served with amazing mashed potatoes, and some spinach-y, kale-y green. Lindsay had the salmon, which was also impressive, although I like my salmon a little rarer. The dessert was a candy bar mix, but the "candy bars" were little chocolate cakes with gold leaf and peanuts and a mound of sorbet, which was a lovely tart counterpoint to the rich chocolate. Lindsay, ever the rebel, had the baked Alaska, which had strawberries and was light and delightful.

The time came to go down the stairs and I was getting more and more worried with each passing moment. It was just as hard as I imagined, and my knew hurt worse than I imagined. By this time Mix, the nightclub, was hopping and packed with beautiful young people. Ryan and Lindsay had to run interference so I could get out. Then at the elevator people kept cutting me off when I tried to get on. I finally ended up yelling at a guy to get out of my way and ran over someone's foot.

We had to wait another half hour for a special taxi, but it was actually kind of fun because it was Halloween weekend and we got to watch all kinds of people in weird costumes. The Big Hit of the night was the slutty costume. Apparently slutty nurse, slutty babydoll or slutty slut are the de rigeur costumes for the many lovely young things who inhabit the Vegas night scene.

We finally got back to the hotel and to our room. Before we went to sleep, we looked at each other and vowed that as soon as we awoke, we were leaving. The morning after, we did just that. Leaving Las Vegas was never so sweet.

Ghosts in the Graveyard

Whenever I'm down, I find solace in the kitchen. I also enjoy the company of children, especially those close to me. So I had a perfect day planned whereby Kaia would come over and we would make Ghosts in the Graveyard. I first saw this dessert at a Halloween party at work back in Dayton and thought it looked really cool. Then I tasted it and I was hooked. I knew it would be something the whole family would love: chocolate pudding, Cool Whip and Oreo cookies. What's not to love?

I made this a couple of times for Kaia's birthday parties back when Gen lived in a small apartment in Montalvo and we had the parties over here. When they moved into their place over in the Ventura Keys, birthdays moved over to their house and the Ghosts in the Graveyard took a vacation. This year I decide Kaia was old enough and had her over and we made it together. This is such a great recipe to make with kids. It calls for 15 crushed Oreos -- although you really need at least double that. To crush them I put them in a freezer bag and hit it with my rolling pin. Kaia and I had a blast making our OReo "dirt."

Then you just mix the Jell-O instant chocolate pudding with Cool Whip along with half the crushed cookies. You put the other half of the crushed cookies on top, making the "dirt" for the graveyard. I use Pepperidge Farms Milano cookies to make headstones. Kraft used to use Milanos too, but then they switched to Nabisco Cameo cookies, which nobody likes, so we still use the Milanos. You make ghosts with whipped cream and decorate with candy corn and pumpkins. It's so tasty and so much fun.

This recipe is available at the Kraft Foods site

Ghosts in the Graveyard

2 four-serving Jell-O Instant chocolate pudding
3 cups cold milk
1 12 pounce container Cool Whip (be careful because it generally comes in 8-ounce containers)
15 Oreo cookies, crushed (I use at least twice that)
Candy corn
Candy pumpkins

Mix the pudding mix with the milk for two minutes. Let sit for 5 minutes then add 3 cups Cool Whip along with half of the crushed Oreos. Spread in a 9x13 inch pan and sprinkle the rest of the "dirt" on top. Let refrigerate for an hour. Right before serving decorate with whipped cream ghosts, cookies with initials (RIP BOO) the candy corn and the pumpkins.

Pikachu pinata

I wish I were able to report more upbeat news, but things aren't really going as well as I would like. It seem as though the guy who hit me was hugely underinsured, even though his driving record is atrocious. Then Courtney let me know that she, Dave and the boys won't be coming out for Christmas.

I can totally understand why Dave and Courtney don't want to drag a 6 month old and a 20 month old cross-country during the holidays and it's totally understandable, but Christmas is a huge, hairy deal for me and has become even more so now that I'm a grandmother, so it completely sucks. I was really looking forward to seeing the boys. They grow so fast and there's no way I'm going anywhere by air for awhile. The pit of self-pity just gets deeper.

So today, to take our minds off of things, Rob and I dedicated ourselves to finding a Pikachu pinata for Kaia's birthday party, which is this weekend and has a Pokeman these. Rob had to do the footwork, going from place to place looking for a Pikachu pinatas, we live near a Mexican neighborhood, so there are lots of pinatas around.

Rob and I have become the pinata suppliers for Kaia's birthday parties because a few years ago she and I were talking home from a little park a street over and we passed by a house where they were having a birthday party. Kaia really wanted to go up and mingle, but I had to explain that these were strangers and we couldn't go to the party. She said, "We'll go up and tell them our names and then they won't be strangers." But she wanted to watch for a bit and having nowhere pressing to be, I said OK. They had a big, old pinata and they were hitting it and she was completely transfixed.

Finally one of the older kids was able to crack it and candy spilled everywhere. It was all I could do to contain Kaia, whose instinct was to run and grab as much as she could. Fortunately someone at the party had noticed Kaia and picked up a big old handful of candy and brought it over to Kaia. I'm always so thankful for the nice people of the world, they are so few and far between. Anyway when Kaia's birthday party rolled around that year she made it clear she wanted a pinata so Rob and I bought her the biggest one we could find -- a pinata girl about 3 and a half feet tall -- and she just loved it. Last year we got a Care Bear-ish one and this year the assignment was a Pikachu one.

We quickly determined that there were no Pikachu pinata to be had, so looking online, we got the idea to remake a bear pinata into a Pikachu. Rob looked high and low and finally determined where the best pinata shop was. But they didn't have bears. They did, however, have a penguin that had the right proportions, generally, as Pikachu. So Rob got crepe paper and some poster board and I set about remaking the pinata.

This was the perfect project to take my mind off of things -- I got a call from my lawyer's legal aide wanting more information, but I just wasn't into it or anything else but the Pikachu. I just love the feeling of successfully completing one of these little crafty projects, I always feel so psyched, especially when they come out well, and this did, although I'm having trouble with the idea of kids tearing it up. Creativity is such a joy.

Tomorrow Kaia is coming over and we're making Ghosts in the Graveyard, my very very favorite Halloween dessert. More later.

Pity party

When life hands you a lemon -- make cookies! Kaia came over today and we made Halloween cookies. We make them every years, and even though I'm still off my foot for yet three more weeks, I've come up with a variety of ways to be able to make cookies. Of course, the main thing is having Rob able to help.

I really needed a cookie-baking afternoon because I'm starting to feel a bit beleagered by all that's happening. I went to the orthopedic surgeon about my knee and he basically said it was so messed up -- he gave me a list with five seperate things listed -- I'll probably need knee replacement surgery. But we have to get the right foot healed first. Then he drained some fluid and injected some stuff and it hurts worse than it did before.

So we're sitting around absorbing all of this when we get a call that Rob's mom has had a stroke. She has been transferred out of intensive care and seems out of immediate danger, so hopefully that will be OK.

I'd already called to ask to have Kaia come over because she just makes me smile. She's about to turn 6. She loves to bake cookies with me and it's so much fun. We've been doing it for a few years and I hope she continues to want to.

Lasagna and more surgery

First the bad news: I need surgery to repair a meniscus tear on my left knee. Bear in mind my torn tendon is on my right foot, so basically it's going to be a little rough there for a while with both legs being gimpy.

Second: the good news. I made lasagna for dinner and lasagna, as Garfield has often noted, makes anything better.

I got a call from my doctor, himself, personally, which is never a good sign. He said there are all kinds of things going on with my knee and he's going to have to refer me to the orthopedic surgeon. My age works against me because as you get older the miniscus doesn't like to heal as well and my prognosis depends on exactly where in the minisicus the tear is. The miniscus is basically your knee cartilage that extends in a C shape around your knee.

On the plus side, I've heard great things from people who've had orthoscopic surgery on their knees. Most of them say that after years of pain, it's such a relief to have the knee working properly.

I'm sure there will come a day, a day I hope isn't too far off, when all of this is behind me and I'm back on my bike and taking my walks without the pain. But right now in the middle of it when my foot is still healing and every excursion on crutches brings excruciating pain in my bad knee, when I'm so limited in my activities that my doctor's visit, followed by some Jack in the Box by the beach is the high point of my week, I'm feeling very, very sorry for myself.

As I told Courtney, who is having her own not horrible, but not good string of luck, the wheel of kharma needs to turn a bit right now because it's stuck in a bad position.

So what do I do to nudge it along a bit? I make lasagna, that's what. My lasagna is my favorite dish. I've been making it forever and I'm always tweaking it to the next level. This time Rob found huge fresh mozzarella balls, whole milk ricotta and a big old package of provelone when he was shopping for the ingredients at Sam's Club. I've never made it with the fresh mozzarella, but that combined with the really good Chilean wine I put in the sauce, made this lasagna sublime.

My neat innovation is to not pre-boil my lasagna noodles. What I do now is make more sauce and cook it longer and the noodles stay nice and al dente (which means to the tooth, not bite-sized as Rachael Ray likes to say). I was able to put it together using the office chair that has been pressed into service as a wheelchair for around the house.

Company!!!!!!!

Rob's nephew -- yes there are a bunch of them, OK actually three, but it sure seems like a lot, and that's not a bad thing -- needed a place to stay when he came out to visit the two brothers who have already moved to Ventura.

Rob was really excited to have them here, but I was more reserved, concerned that staying in someone's house where the living room has been converted into a sick room (I can arrange the couch pillows to make raised cradles for my injured ankle, knee and back) might make them uncomfortable. They were really sweet about it, though, and were able to use us as a place to rest between rounds of drinking and catching up. Plus they get a room and bathroom to themselves upstairs where they can be on their own.

The people in the house who were really happy (and our pets ARE people) were the dogs, who LOVE LOVE LOVE company. One of the conditions for staying with us is having to put up with our menagerie, after all it is THEIR house.

Brindle, the little black poodle/shi-tzu, aka shitpoo in designer dog terms, always delights when people come over. Even though she's come to rest with us, Brindle has always been a well-loved little dog, unlike the other two rescues, so she assumes the world wants to pet her. Fuser, the little chihuahua/jack russell, rescue has learned to love people after initially being terrified of men. Now he rolls over and wants people to run his teeny little belly -- you have to use two fingers because a whole hand is too big.

But poor Rascal, the poodle/terrier who was found wandering the streets of El Rio in Oxnard, still has problems with appropriate behavior. He starts off terrified and cowering and slowly approaches when he's sure it's OK. Duncan and Mary (the nephew and his girlfriend) really showered the little guy with attention, much to Fuser's consternation and disgust. Fuser jumps up on Rascal, who is more than twice his size, and tries to intimidate him by growling in a really deep mean dog voice, and he'll bite Rascal if that doesn't work. Fuser, sadly but luckily, is unable to bite effectively with his teensie little mouth, so it never hurts despite his fiercest intentions.

Each time Duncan and Mary so much as came down the stairs the dogs went crazy, barking and whining. Fortunately both Duncan and Mary are great animal people and thought it was cute. The visit proved quite painless, especially because they went up to wine country over the weekend. As with all good things unfortunately, it came to an end and the little guys had to say goodbye with great sadness. Now they only have us to give the 24/7 attention they deserve and require.

One of the most fortunate things about moving here has been the parade of relatives who've come out to live here since we got here. First, it was just Lindsay and me, then Rob joined us a year later. A few years later Rob's nephew Sean came out and stayed with us, and despite the fact that he had to go home for about a year to get some work experience, he persevered and came back out. Now he's married to Gen and is a wonderful father to Kaia. Then Colin, the youngest nephew, came out and went to school. Now Duncan wants to join them. Duncan is an accomplished musician and is hoping to start a career. There's no better place than the L.A. area and he's very talented, so he should do well.

I've always said I'm every native California's worst nightmare, the person to comes out and has the rest of the family follow. Speaking for myself, California is the first place I've ever been where I felt at home. Even in Princeton, N.J., where I grew up, I always felt like an outsider. The minute I set foot in California, though, I felt a sense of homecoming and it's really cool to be able to share that. It's also so cool to have relatives around. It makes a place so much more comfortable when you can share holidays and special events with family.

Like yesterday, Kaia called. She was doing a "survey" for her first grade homework assignment. We had a choice: Which was our favorite, a bear, a monkey, a giraffe or an elephant? How delightful!

Fall meal

One of the things we hear out here in California is how people would "miss the seasons" if they left the God-forsaken wasteland they call home. In reality, they usually mean they'd miss the two or three golden weeks of fall and spring that -- sometimes -- occur each year. These golden weeks generally have little to no rain, temperatures ranging up to the mid-70s and down to the low 50s at night, with clear skies and gentle breezes. In other words, weather that we get year-round as a matter of course.

I suppose it's part of the Puritanical ethics of hardship and privation. Frankly, they can have their self-imposed suffering through endless gray days, frigid mornings, inferno-esque heat, while I bask in the sunshine and walk on the beach. The naysayers seem to believe that you can only enjoy beautiful weather if you've suffered through months of inhuman torment where the only air you breathe is filtered and either heated or cooled. I beg to differ. I am just as capable of enjoying the "seasons" without the pain. And I do.

This past weekend marked the first day of Fall. Like most people, I love autumn. What's not to love about pumpkins, apples and golden leaves? We were also hit by a once-in-a-lifetime September rainstorm in Southern California and it helped establish the Fall-like mood. I decided to make my Fall Meal.

When the kids were growing up I would mark the advent of autumn with a meal of roasted pork with potatoes, squash and apples. There is something about the smell of roasting pork that is quintessentially Fall. The kids used to love it when the Fall Meal was trotted out because it signalled trips to the local farm stands for hayrides and cider.

I always wondered if the kids appreciated all of my little Fall traditions. When I was a kid, we used to go out to the local cider place, which was really cool, but my mom had an unfortunate tendency of turning every family outing into a Trip from Hell, so I was always afraid to do the same with my kids. Fortunately, they seem to have loved our times out -- I guess not screaming and belittling everyone makes family trips so much more pleasant. It makes me so happy to see Courtney take her family out the way I did to the same stands and I just love that it's a fun, joyful experience for her and the grandchildren.

Fall Meal
1 large pork roast, at least 5 pounds. Sirloin is great, but pork shoulder is delicious and inexpensive.
olive oil
Penzeys' Ozarks seasoning
Garlic powder
onion powder
4 large springs fresh rosemary
salt
pepper
5 to 6 red potatoes
1 large butternut squash or two acorn squashes, cut into halves with seeds removed
cinnamon
4 large apples cored, but not all the way through(Granny Smith is good, as is Fuji and Pink Lady)
brown sugar
butter

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Rub the roast with olive oil. (Note: Despite what Rachael Ray says, extra virgin olive oil is only necessary to use when making a dish where the flavor is going to be dominant in the dish. Regular olive oil is just fine for roasting.) Sprinkle with seasonings. Rub the potatoes with olive oil also and prick all over and place in roasting pan -- make sure you use a large one -- along with the roast. Tuck the rosemary sprigs around the roast and potatoes. Place squash halves rubbed with olive in the dish and sprinkle all over with cinnamon. Cook for an hour and a half. Add apples stuffed with a dab of butter, brown sugar and sprinkled with cinnamon. Add a dab of butter into the cups of the squash halves and top with brown sugar. Cook for another half hour. Remove from oven and check the roast for doneness. Although pork no longer has to be cooked until well-done, I find my preference for well-done pork to be too ingrained to change. You can place the roast back in the oven to cook until well-done if necessary, then return it to the original pan with the veggies and fruit snd return to the oven for 15 minutes to warm. I love to put big globs of sour cream on the potatoes and mush all of the ingredients together.

Stir-crazy

I've been to see the doctor and he was very, very pleased with how well the operation went. He said it was a good a scenario as one could have hoped for, as far as the tear being clean and the tendon being in good shape. But I'm still off the foot for another couple (yes that would be TWO) weeks.

I don't know about anyone else, but being restricted like this is painful. It's really hard to get out and to the car on crutches. I have to go out the back and around the house and crutches are a lot more awkward than they look. Cooking is also limited, although Rob has been great about getting food to make and helping me put it together. We've had roast chicken and pot roast, which is great, low-fat comfort food.

But I'm bored silly. It's pone of those things that feeds on itself; the more you stay still, the less you want to move. Oh well. The surgery appears to have been successful and I should regain full movement in my foot. Yee. Ha.

Fried green tomatoes and recovery

 

 

It's been quite a week, with my operation countdown, insurance problems and, finally, the start of my recovery.

Two days before the scehduled surgery we received a call that there were problems with our insurance. It's not that it wasn't an easy problem to resolve, but it had to be resolved quickly and bureaucracies don't tend to move quickly, so it was stressful. I was already freaked out by my impending surgery -- as a naturally healthy person, I have little experience with illness or injury.

I did some cooking, making more zucchini bread and for dinner I decided to make fried green tomatoes, just because Rob had the idea of making a dinner/breakfast with steak and eggs. I've never actually made them, and my tomatoes were a little red, so they didn't come out too well becasue I generally don't likle the taste of cooked tomatoes that much.

My surgery went fine and I'm recovering. I can't put amy weight on my foot, which means I have to use crutches and my left knee is swollen and sore so it's hard to put all my weight on it. I discovered the office chair for the computer works as a good wheelchair and I'm scootching around in it. Rob is discovering why he never pursued a career in the helping fields as his having to wait on me is truly getting on his nerves. But he's really been great about the surgery and has been supportive and wonderful to have around. And, frankly I don't think I'd be as patient as he has been considering how much I have to ask him to do.

Fried green tomatoes

1 cup canola oil
4 green tomatoes, sliced into 1/4 slices
1 cup milk
3/4 cup cornmeal
3/4 cup flour
salt and pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a skillet until hot (it will be moving in the pan, but not smoking)
Dip tomato slices in milk and then in mixture of cornmeal, flour and seasonings. Fry on both sides until browned. Drain on paper towls and serve.

The Dog Days of Summer

 

 

 

The title for this post has been running through my head during this past week. It probably has to do with the fact that we're babysitting Keba, Sean and Gen's German Shepherd mix dog, for the week and the weather around here was really hot -- especially during Labor Day weekend.

Keba is a good dog. She's a big baby who lets herself be bossed around by Fuser and wants to be a lap dog like the little doggies. Even though her head is as big as Fuser's whole self, the first time she came over, she tried to climb into Gen's lap for safety because she was afraid of the little doggies. Since then she's adjusted to the beasts, although Meepee (aka Mythos) -- the big cat -- has decided to go on strike while Keba is here. Mythos sits upstairs, which is blocked off because the dogs think it's a great place to go poopie, and screams for food to be delivered to him. He also yells when his litter is too full. Lily, the other cat, comes downstairs as much as she used to, but Meepee has decided he's making his point.

The end result of all of this, however, is the sense that our house has been overrun by animals. We now have four dogs and two cats hanging around and they're ALL demanding divas. We also had a record-breaking hot spell here in Southern California, which actually affected us here in Ventura during its waning days. Hanging around with panting dogs, sweating, has been miserable, although it does cool down at night.

I'm in my surgery countdown, which is a lot less fun than it seems. I've had to give up ibuprophen, which I live by, to make me less likely to bleed. I tend to bleed a lot anyway, so it's probably a good idea, but it makes me cranky because the aching is so much worse. I had my blood work and now I just wait ... and wait.

The one bright note to all of this has been my garden. I've been picking cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers and zucchini. We're just about done with peaches -- I made some turnovers with the last of them -- so that's a relief. And Tony the Nosy Neighbor has already been over to give me his advice on clipping the tree back, telling me to get Sunset's Western Gardens, which I have ... and use regularly. Thanks Tony.

I've been able to make all kinds of food with the veggies, but my favorite so far has been my faux Greek salad with cucumbers, green peppers, tomatoes, feta cheese and Kalamata olives. Have you ever noticed that on TV shows when characters have to be in a scene where they're "cooking" they always chop up pretty, colorful veggies? I've always supposed that handling a pallid, slimy chicken or fatty ground beef is distracting to the scene. Anyway, I've been feeling like a TV character, chopping my veggies, except for the 800 dogs, billion degree heat and broken foot.

Greek-style veggie salad
1 small cucumber
1-2 smallish ripe tomatoes
1/2 green bell pepper
1-2 cups fresh baby lettuce leaves
1/2 to 3/4 cups feta cheese -- I prefer Trader Joe's Mediterranean-seasoned feta cheese
handful kalamata olives
6-8 melba toast rounds, coarsely crushed
Greek or Italian dressing

Cut all the veggies, except the lettuce leaves, coarsely into bite-sized pieces. Arrange lettuce leaves on a plate. Top with veggies, feta cheese, olives and Melba rounds (I prefer melba rounds as croutons because they don't have the extra fat or overwhelming flavoring that most croutons have, including the croutons made by Old London, which use small melba rounds. I'm also a huge fan of using Trader Joe's garlic flavored pita crisps as croutons). Serve with dressing.

Greek salad dressing
3/4 cup canola oil
1/2 cup Star red wine vinegar
salt
pepper
dried oregano, to taste
dried basil, to taste

Whisk together well and let sit for about an hour before serving.

Paparazzi and Malibu

For fun, Rob and I headed to Malibu, or the 'Bu as WE called it back in 1997, and I have proof, to check out the action. The big place is the Malibu Country Mart where they have Juicy Couture, Nobu and Wise potato chips. We've always wanted to go there because there are always pictures in magazines of stars taken there and we just HAD to check out the scene.

Apparently the paparazzi dudes -- and for the most part they are dudes -- hang at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. Even though there's a Starbucks a few hundred yards away, it doesn't seem to have the same cachet. Go figure. We watched as they chased some people, but we couldn't figure out who they were. One was a really small non-descript girl and another was some dark-haired dude. The paps didn't seem TOO excited so they weren't big.

The Hollywood people LOVE to complain about paparazzi, but then they make sure they go to the places these guys hang out, and from the looks of things there are certain set places you're sure to find the cameras.

It's a unique experience. There are the shiny, skinny, coiffed Malibu moms taking the kids to play in the sandbox, which being in the middle of a shopping area doesn't seem to be the best place to go for kids, but I suppose if you're all into The Scene, and these people are, this is where you'd bring the little darlings.

The trophy wives were all leading their little spawnlings as they bitched at them. Dena says they're cranky because they never eat, which is apparent from their teenie butts. The look du jour is teenie tiny little skirts or dresses that look like tennis tunics -- if you're wondering about such things. One particularly emblematic mom was scolding her kids, "mommy is just going to get a coffee. Is that OK with YOU????" Of course the little boy, about age 4 was wearing a long black dress. I said she was letting him express himself. Rob said kids need to be told what they can and can't wear at this age and not knowing boundaries and rules does no one any favors.

Of course I stood out like a sore thumb, what with my camera, walking cast, cane and old gym shorts, which are the only things that fit because of the hemotoma on my hip from the accident. I'm almost to the point of being freaky looking enough to move from my customary middle-aged invisibility to ewwwww, not that I care much. I had fun and it's so cool that I live so close to a place like this. It's like a surreal theme park -- Malibuland -- I can visit any time I want.

Damn. This place has celebrities AND Wise potato chips -- incidentally the BEST potato chip in the WORLD, which are unavailable west of Pennsylvania. I actually called Bordon corporate headquarters once in Columbus, Ohio, when I lived in Dayton to see if I could get them to sell Wise potato chips in Ohio and the girl on the phone laughed at me. But they have them in Malibu. I bought two big bags. Rob said, I don't want any chips." I said, "I don't care what you want, you're not touching my chips."

UPDATE: It turns out they were waiting for the Backstreet Boys. TMZ is reporting that they had lunch together sans Nick Carter. THAT explains it. I wouldn't know a Backstreet Boy -- except perhaps for Nick Carter and that's only because of his creepy reality series -- if I ran over one. Later on, Reese Witherspoon went to Nobu, but we missed that.