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.

Food frenzy

 

 

I've been coping with the stress of finding out about my foot by cooking. I pretty much cope with all major life problems by cooking. The fact that the garden is producing all kinds of wondrous bounty is fueling the fire. The only down side is that my foot is officially a mess and really hurts when I cook. I've put a stool in the kitchen and use that whenever I can, but it's hard.

So the doctor has said surgery is needed for my foot. It appears I've lost my posterior tibial tendon. Apparently I had some tendinitis there and the trauma of the accident snapped it. Fortunately I have pictures of my swollen, bruised ankle from right after the accident. And while posterior tibial tendon dysfunction is fairly common -- causing falling arches, having the tendon snap is not as common and is, of course, not good.

The recovery time isn't good. It's about six weeks for the site to heal and 10 months recovery total. I'm also not entirely thrilled with the doctor I've been assigned, he seems a bit managed-care oriented.

All of the material I've read indicates that treatment of a ruptured tendon usually consists of taking another tendon from the back of your foot and putting it over where the tibial tendon was. The tibial tendon is the tendon that pretty much holds the structure of the back of the foot together. Without it the foot collapses inward. In addition, they put titanium spikes in the ankle to stabilize it. But this guy acted as though repairing the tendon wasn't that necessary. It's been pretty necessary up to now and without it my foot is completely collapsing, so -- as the kids say -- WTF? AS I told the doctor I have at least 30 more years on this foot and I want it to work -- well.

Plus why is modern medicine set up so we have to go online to research our problems because we can't trust doctors to be as interested in practicing the best available medicine as they are in bonuses from the insurance people for avoiding expensive procedures?

Anyway, I'm scheduled to have surgery Sept. 24. It's outpatient, which is just fine with me. Hospitals nowadays are breeding grounds for staph infections and flesh-eating bacteria. The less time I spend there, the better. It is general anesthesia, though and I'll be pretty much completely incapacitated for a couple of weeks.

So I'm cooking in a mad frenzy. Cooking is so life-affirming. I love it for the smells and the creating something useful out of raw materials. I usually have my best moments of inspiration then. I used the zucchini to make a pasta dish. I grilled zucchini and onion in my grilling basket and added some sausage. The smoky, grilled flavor was amazing in the finished dish.

I'm still plagued by peaches. I've put up 23 jars of preserves, 19 jars of canned peaches; I've made six cobblers, one peach pie and for my latest, greatest creation, I made a peach, streusel cake for my monthly cake obligation. I'm serving it with whipped cream. I also froze a large bag of peaches.

I told Rob that I'm done with the peaches ... at least for this year. He says he's done forever and ever. Last I saw him, he was looking of an ax.

Peach streusel bundt cake

2 sticks butter (one cup) softened
2 cups sugar
6 eggs
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 cups all-purpose *flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup sour cream
2 cups fresh peaches, diced
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons cinnamon
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
confectioner's sugar
cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350. Grease and flour a bundt pan. Beat butter and sugar until creamed and fluffy, but not over-processed. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. If using a stand mixer, make sure to scrape down the sides. Add almond and vanilla extracts. Mix flour, baking soda and salt together using a whisk. Add to butter mixture alternately with the sour cream. Fold in peaches. Mix streusel mixture together -- brown sugar, flour, butter and cinnamon -- using a food processor or by hand until butter is cut in. Pour one third of the batter in bundt pan. Sprinkle with one half of the streusel mix. Pour second third of the batter on top of streusel. Sprinkle second half on streusel mixture on top of batter and spoon final third of the batter over the streusel mixture. Bake for 70 minutes or until a wooden pick inserted comes out clean. Cool for 15 minutes before removing from pan. Dust with confectioner's sugar and serve with whipped cream.

Grilled sausage, veggie pasta bake

1 pound sweet Italian sausage links
1 large onion diced into 3/4 to 1 inch cubes
1 large zucchini cut into 3/4 to 1 inch cubes
Olive oil spray
1 can Progresso crushed tomatoes with puree
1 package *Dreamfields pasta penne prepared al dente
2 cups mozzarella cheese, shredded
6 ounces provolone cheese
4 bay leaves
1/2 cup red wine
Parmesan cheese

Spray prepared veggies and cooking basket with olive oil spray so all veggies are coated. Place the veggies and sausage in grilling basket and grill until sausage has browned and veggies are starting to brown. Spray 13 X 11 inch pan with olive oil spray. Pour pasta in pan. Top with half of the mozzarella cheese and half the provolone. Top with grilled veggies and sausage. Pour tomatoes on top. Add bay leaves. Pour wine on top and mix it in a bit with a fork. Top with remaining cheese, using Parmesan last. Bake in 350 oven for 30 minutes or until cheese is warm and bubbly.

*Notes: I've been using King Arthur flour's whole wheat, white flour, which is whole wheat ground really fine in place of unbleached white flour. so far, it's proving a good substitute and it makes me feel better about my whole grain intake.
Dreamfields pasta claims to have found a way to enclose wheat/carb molecules so they pass through the body, meaning that the effective carb content is lowered considerably. You can't taste the difference and according to my dad, who is a (Ph.D.) scientist, this method could work and seems scientifically sound.

Rob's inspiration

 

I'm in the middle of canning and otherwise processing all the peaches we got off the tree, which is exhausting, especially considering the bad foot. So on one of the hottest days of the year here -- it got all the way up to -- GASP -- 81 degrees.

We Venturans are like hothouse flowers, we only thrive in a very narrow band of temperatures, which is good because almost every day here, summer, winter, fall and spring is in the upper 60s early 70s. People here don't even have air conditioners and our fans tend to get dusty between uses.

So there I was with massive pots on the stove to peel the peaches and to process and sterilize the jars. Rob comes home from the store and has the bright idea of making grilled sausage with peppers and onions. Our peppers are looking pretty good this year, which is nice since the eggplants have all succumbed to a wilt. While this would seem a wonderful idea, when one is armpit-high in peach pits, the idea of cooking anything else is not met with a smile, to say the least.

In spite of my growling, I hauled out this really cool grilling basket I bought last year and have never used. It's designed specifically for this kind of thing. Rob didn't even know we had it. I grilled the sausage and sprayed the grilling basket with canola oil. I then cut the peppers and onions into large (about an inch to one and a half inches). I grilled them on the grill. Rob teamed his beef sausage with peppers, onions and a large, hoagie-type roll and I had bratwurst and veggies on a hot dog bun.

I have to hand it to him. Despite the initial annoyance, this was a great idea for a quick summer meal on a hot day. But don't anyone tell him I said that ...

Harvest time and bum feet

       

The peaches on my tree are finally ripening, as Tony, our next door neighbor felt it necessary to come over announce.

Tony is sort of the Gladys Kravtiz of the cul de sac. He keeps track of everything and everybody. It can be annoying, but somehow comforting -- if the house ever caught fire, Tony would be the first to at least tell firefighters that we have pets. Tony has taken a great interest in the tree and told us he's helped himself to a few peaches. It gives him something to do.

On the other hand (or foot, chuckle, chuckle), I'm having some trouble in the peach-picking department. I finally had an appointment with a podiatrist. I've always said that the best doctor's visits, like the best travel, are uneventful -- everything works just as it should. At the very worst, you go to the doctor, he writes out a prescription and 10 to 14 days later, voila, you're all better. This wasn't one of those trips.

The podiatrist took one look at the foot, which has been bothering me for a while and then took a dramatic turn for the worst and has been really hurting after the accident, and said it had collapsed -- I have no arch on my right foot now -- and it is "frozen" -- it won't move the way it used to. He ordered MRIs and put me in a walking cast, which explains why in the picture it's so dirty -- casts and cooking don't go real well together. I'll find out more when I see him for my next appointment, next Thursday, when we'll "find out what we have to work with," as the doctor put it. He said he thinks I've lost a tendon.

I've been trying to stay off it for the most part, but it's hard because I'm not very good at sitting still. We took Kaia to the fair for our traditional night where we let her do anything she wants. It was a lovely evening and she was wonderful, but I thought I was going to die, especially the next day when I could hardly walk. It was worth it because I would have been way more upset if I'd missed one of my very favorite things in the world -- going to the fair with Kaia.

In the midst of all this my zucchinis are ripening and the peaches are littering the ground attracting all kinds of bugs. I've been cooking up a storm. First, I baked a peach pie, then a peach cobbler, then zucchini bread. Finally, I made peach preserves flavored with the wonderful cinnamon I bought from Penzey's.

It's kind of circular, really. I'm nervous about my foot. I'm not really into things like surgery, especially if it's as bad as what is described online. The idea of anyone hacking away at me me with a knife does nothing for me -- especially if I'm not going to emerge looking 20 years younger. So I limp around in a frenzy of baking to give me something to do, which is KILLING my foot. And even I'm getting tired of my whining.

But I'm trying out all kinds of recipes and these two have met with accolades:

Peach cobbler

Biscuit dough
1 1/2 cups flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons chilled, unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
2/3 cup heavy cream

Filling
4 to 5 cups *prepared fresh peaches (skinned, pitted and sliced)
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1 cup sugar (adjust depending on the sweetness of your peaches)
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon fresh ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon salt

Heat oven to 350. Place first five dough ingredients in a food processor and pulse until it forms a cornmeal-textured mixture. Add cream.
Prepare peaches by cutting an X with a knife in the skin and immersing them in boiling water for one minute. Immediately plunge into cool water and slip the skins off. Remove pits and slice inot 1/4 inch pieces. Mix with remaining filling ingredients. Grease oval gratin dish, if you have one or use a square 9x9 container. Flour a surface and roughly roll out biscuit dough after kneading about 8 times. Place fruit in dish and stretch the biscuit dough over the top. Brush biscuits with cream and top with sprinkled sugar and cinnamon. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes. Serve with vanilla ice cream.

Zucchini bread

For bread
3 eggs
1 cup vegetable oil
2 cups white sugar
21/2 cups grated zucchini
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup chopped walnuts (toasted for five minutes)

For streusel
1 cup butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup flour
6 tablespoons unsalted butter

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease and flour three 8X4 inch loaf pans

In a large bowl beat eggs until light and frothy. Mix in oil and sugar. Stir in zucchini and vanilla. Combine flour, cinnamon, baking soda, baking powder, salt and nuts. Stir into the egg batter. Divide batter into prepared pans. Mix streusel ingredients by blending in butter by hand until it forms a crumbly mixture. Sprinkle on top of all three zucchini loaves. Bake for 60 to 70 minutes or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean.

Cedar planks

Rob and I are at the point in our lives where the things we want for our birthdays and holidays tend to be presents for the house. So for my birthday/Mother's Day, Rob got me a gas grill. We have a really wonderful built-in brick grill. One of these days I'm going to have it converted to gas, and those plans are the reason it took some time to get a freestanding gas grill. Why buy a grill when you're going to convert the one you have?

But we really wanted one right now and we aren't ready to spend the money on the brick grill. Living in Southern California makes gas grilling a necessity. Not only is it great year-round, but it's also a good standby in case of an earthquake. We keep an extra propane tank filled just in case. The grill we got is small, but it's just the two of us and we didn't want to spend a lot of money OBVS.

It's been working out really well and we have so much fun making our meals. We're both trying to watch what we eat and a meal of grilled meat and salad is healthy, tasty and good for the waistline. We've been trying out new ideas on how to use the grill and we were both enticed by the idea of cedar planks for cooking.

We wanted to get one to try it out but when we went to find one it seemed all the stores were out. Finding a cedar plank became a mission and we spent the past week trying to find one. I finally bought one today at Rain's in Ojai, which has a decent assortment of kitchenware.

So I bought some nice, fresh wild salmon at Westridge Market and got Rob a pork chop. I soaked the plank for a couple of hours and we were ready to rock. Rob and I were psyched. I seasoned the meat and the fish and put them on the planks and placed those on the low flame on the grill. It wasn't long until the smell of -- cedar -- filled the air. Oh yeah, we both realized cedar smells like -- well -- cedar; like the cedar closets where you keep the old stuff to keep out moths. It smells like the cheap souvenirs from the Poconos. It smells like summer cabins by the lake.

But hey, I thought hopefully, other woods have distinctive smells that work really well with food, so maybe it won't be that bad. I had placed Rob's pork on the plank and let it get a lot of flavor and then I took it off the plank and onto the grill to make sure it seared properly. I had moved my fish to the top rack, but when I came to check the plank was on fire. No biggie. I got the fish, which was fine, off, and put the fire out. I finished browning Rob's pork and we had dinner.

And there it was ... it all tasted like cedar. And we both realized that we never really wanted to EAT cedar. It's a strong smell, but it's never been anything I wanted to eat, unlike, say juniper, which smells really good and can be made into a really cool seasoning in a stew.

It kinds of reminds of the disappointment I felt when I tried gefilte fish. I'd read about it and was sure I'd like it. I like fish -- I LOVE lox and whitefish. I'd read about gefilte fish for years, what with this being back in the day of Philip Roth. But when I tasted the beigey/brown, spongy, slimy lump I was profoundly disappointed as I resisted the urge to gag. I felt, somehow betrayed. I tend to like everything and when everyone is going on how good something is -- like cedar plank salmon -- it's so disheartening when you find out it tastes likes -- surprise -- cedar, and I'm disappointed and feel a little stupid I didn't put that together in the first place.

Update: We got some oak pellets that you put in an aluminum foil pouch and place in the grill. They made the food wonderful. So remember, oak = good, cedar = BAD.

Poor peach tree

 

 

 

 

Well I'm putting my poor fair showing behind me with a tried-and-true What Do They Know? attitude, which always works for me. Besides the peach tree is getting ready to literally burst and I have tons of work to do.

I'm not going to go into the whole peach-stick that was ridiculed by the neighbors story again, but suffice it to say there is no small amount of pride at having planted a tiny stick just six years ago and now I have a tree that is literally bending over with fruit. It's just now starting to ripen and it smells so good. All the neighbors are awaiting the bounty because there will be enough peaches to keep everyone we know supplied for the rest of their lives.

We propped up a couple of boughs with wooden skids, but I don't know how much it's helping. I'll be heading out for jars and will start putting up preserves this week. I'll have to print out labels because my handwriting sucks so bad. Guess what the Christmas present to family and friends is going to be this year? I have plenty of Penzey's really good cinnamon, so I'm going to add that in because I just love the combination of peaches and cinnamon flavors.

On another note, when I was visiting Courtney I had a chance to share a few tips with her. I've never realized how many tips I have to share, but especially in the kitchen, I've discovered about a zillion shortcuts. One really great tip is making corn in the microwave.

Super speedy corn

Shuck however many ears of corn you need. Rinse the corn off and wrap each cob in a piece of plastic wrap. Place the corn, one ear at a time, in the microwave for 1 minute. Turn and microwave 50 seconds -- 45 seconds is a bit too short and you will have uncooked kernels, and 55 seconds can lead to overcooked kernels. Remove wrapped corn from microwave and place on counter for about 5 minutes. Continue cooking the rest of the corn the same way. Be careful when you unwrap it as it will be quite hot and there will be a lot of steam escaping.
Another tip: This is from Dena: If you're bleeding, which I was at Courtney's because I cut my leg shaving, use cornstarch to stem the flow if nothing else will work.

Fair dramz

 

See that title? Dramz? Oh yeah. I'm hip and happening although using the word "dramz" about preparing baked goods for the county fair could be considered a tad oxymoronic, although I'm going for ironic.

With my oven up and running, I got a good start on my annual fair baking and put together my first batch of pie crust dough. I chilled it properly, but when I went to roll it out it was all crumbly and fell apart. So I added more water and set it to chill some more. The same thing happened. I'd read that although you want the butter room temperature for baking, for pie dough, you want it cold when you mix the dough. I'd also noted that using a food processor to cut the butter in is the new thing.

So I went and used Rob's Target birthday card and bought a food processor. I made more dough. It fell apart. I actually rolled it out and tried to put the apples in it, but in the end it was so pathetic-looking with all my patches. So I went for batch No. 3, adding more butter so it would hold together better. I chilled the (blank) out of it.

By this time I was wondering if the whole thing was worth the effort. I decided to make some cookies to clear my head. I had what looked like a great oatmeal cookie recipe -- all butter, oats and goodness -- and made that. But when I cooked them at the temperature called for in the recipe, they burned. I just about threw in the dish towel. But I collected myself, lowered the oven 25 degrees and made eight perfect oatmeal cookies.

I took out the chilled pie dough and rolled it out under wax paper. This is a great solution when the crust is fussy, but can lead to creases in the dough, which are easy to cover with sugar or something. I managed to get the pie put together looking reasonably good, all brushed with cream and sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. It cracked while it was cooking, and there isn't much you can do then, but it looked pretty good. The people at the Fair entry place were all encouraging, coming over to say how nice it looked. (FYI, my Big Secret for pie baking is that I'm the best crust crimper, which really sets off a great pie.)

This year's pie is a gamble. My peaches aren't quite ready, which sucks because there are about a million of them. I decided against a peach pie, then, and made an apple pie, using the apples from the Ojai farmers market guy, who gave me a few extra when I told him they were for a county fair pie. They are amazing gala apples that are all crisp and fresh. But apple pie is the most entered pie category, so there's a good chance I could not get a blue ribbon.

The same hubris led to my entering the most popular cookie categories, sugar, oatmeal and chocolate chip. I want to go up against the best and win. But there's a good chance I won't because these things are so subjective. I've judged quite a few cooking contests and know that when you get up to a certain level of cooking the favorite is determined by individual preference.

This is especially true of the chocolate chip cookies. I'd been messing with recipes to get just the right cookie and each batch was disappointing ndespite promises of being gooey and good. I made some cookies for Courtney and Dave and we all agreed they weren't contest-winning calibre. So Courtney and I sat around and discussed what we consider to be our perfect chocolate chip cookie. We like them buttery, soft, chewy and nice and thin, setting off the chocolate chips, which are always Giardelli.

I decided to take the original Tollhouse cookie recipe as my starting point because no matter how much and far you search it's the Tollhouse recipe that is the Gold Standard of chocolate chip recipes. I cut back on the flour by about a quarter of a cup. I cut the baking soda to 1/2 teaspoon because I HATE the taste of baking soda in my cookies and it's very easy to detect if you've used too much. I also cut the temperature back from the 375 degrees called for, which is way too hot. It works best, carefully monitored, around 355 degrees. The resulting cookies are my version of the perfect chocolate chip cookie. But we'll see what the judges think.

The sugar cookies are a recipe that is unusual for a sugar cookie because it has no eggs and lots of cornstarch. They melt in your mouth. But they don't look very good just dropped by spoon and cooked. So I rolled them in balls and rolled the balls in some superfine sugar. This made a really cool-looking round, shiny cookie and the sugar crust gives the cookie an extra sweet crunch. I've tried making traditional cookies the past two years and always got second place, so we'll see how this works.

Rob makes fun of my obsession with the county fair. But, as I pointed out to him, at this point in our lives it is our interests and hobbies that fulfill us and there's nothing wrong with wanting to be recognized for cooking. This year was particularly grueling because along with all the problems with the recipes, my hip and ankle made moving torturous. (I'm going to develop tooth problems if I have to keep gritting my teeth in pain. I have physical therapy and an appointment with a podiatrist this week so I'm hoping for some relief.)

But this morning when I piled the dogs in the car and we set out to enter the stuff, I realized how much I really love walking in the gate amid all the booths and buildings set up to go with the end results of all my hard work. There's always a breeze from the ocean and there's always that delightful sense of anticipation for the fair. No wonder it's one of my favorite things.

UPDATE:
Well, the pie got second place. I figure it must be the crack in the crust that made it less than perfect. Also the apples sat around for a long time before I made it and lost a lot of moisture.
The cookies all got honorable mentions. I HATE honorable mention -- not even good enough to get an actual prize. I really thought these cookies were extraordinary. But as I said it's all so subjective ... sigh. Oh yeah, the cookies I submitted for the fair didn't have edges as dark as in the pictures. Those are the leftover cookies.

Catch up

I'm home. Once of the best things about living in Ventura is coming home. Of all the places I've lived in my life, this is the first that I've actually felt joy and anticipation whenever I come back from a trip -- as opposed to the letdown I'd feel in Ohio or Colorado or New Jersey.

Coming back here is a joy. I can't wait for my first glimpse of ocean nestled in mountains. I yearn for my deep blue sky and my quaint little seaside town that always feels like vacation.

I also can't wait to get to my farmer's market in Ojai where I found some really cool looking wildflowers for sale. Rob had to take a picture because he fancies himself some kind of Ansel Adams, but with a gay sensibility.

I also had to make my obligatory cake for my monthly meeting. Our oven, however, was broken. I went to use it and it wouldn't get hot. I looked online and it said it was probably the ignitor, which is the element that has to get hot to ignite the gas -- thus the name, I suppose.

A few years back our oven decided to quit. The house was covered by one of those home warranties and we called them and they sent out repairman after repairman, who ordered part after part. As they started to replace parts they'd already replaced, I threw a fit and demanded a new oven -- it had been 4-plus months -- which we got. They left the parts behind and I went through them and found an ignitor.

Rob took the oven apart and found where the ignitor attached, but the connecting wires went into a little hole in the back of the oven. We were flummoxed. Did we have to take the entire oven apart to get to the connector? How were we going to get to the connection to install the part? So I had a repairman come out after the first guys refused to if we already had the part(WTF?.) The first thing he does is pull on the old ignitor pulling the wires and their connectors out of the hole in the main oven where it easily connected. Rob and I were pissed. We essentially paid $84 to have some guy pull the damned wires through the dammed hole. Dammit! He was nice and didn't charge us much because we'd "already done all the work."

This entire drama led to my having to come up with a cake that I didn't have to bake. So I decided to make a trifle. It came out great and was really easy to make and it feeds about a million people because I put it in this really cool, giant trifle dish my friend Kim gave me.

Strawberry/lemon trifle

2 family size Sara Lee pound cakes cut into 3/4 to 1 inch squares
4 tablespoons Torani hazelnut syrup
2 10.5 ounce jars lemon curd, available at Trader Joe's (this is all natural and better than the bright yellow curds sold elsewhere). It's the store brand.
2 large boxes instant Jello vanilla pudding prepared according to directions
3 pints fresh strawberries sliced lengthwise into fourths
1 pint heavy whipping cream whipped
3 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla

Spread 1/4 of the pound cake squares in bottom of trifle dish. Sprinkle with 1 tablespoon hazelnut syrup. Top with one jar of lemon curd spread over top. Spread another 1/4 of the pound cake squares. Top with syrup. Put half the strawberries on top. Put one prepared box of pudding spread on top of the strawberries. Put another quarter cup of the pound cake on top, spread around. Sprinkle with syrup. Spread second jar of lemon curd on top. Spread the last 1/4 of the pound cake squares on top. Top with remaining strawberries -- reserving a few for decoration. Top with second box of prepared pudding. Refrigerate. Right before serving top with the pint of whipped cream -- reserve a portion for people to serve themselves separately.

Visiting Ohio

I've been in Ohio for a week now visiting my daughter Courtney. who's just had baby No. 2. The visit has been tough because she and I haven't been feeling very well lately. Me, I'm still recovering from being hit by a truck -- the pain in my back is excruciating, and then I got some kind of stomach bug -- most likely from the plane trip. Courtney is recovering from an emergency C-Section, which for those who don't know a great deal rougher than a planned one. They pretty much beat on her stomach to get little Alex out because he was in distress. That and a resulting infection has made recovery difficult. Then she got my stomach flu.

I mentioned to Dave that I hadn't had a bad stomach since I'd stopped drinking. It really sucks because it's not as though I'd "earned" it. The indignation is greater. Rob's birthday was Wednesday, so we celebrated it by going out to his favorite restaurant in the Dayton area -- the Paragon. It's our favorite along with the Pine Club and we always go there when we visit. We took a sign so we could put it on Flickr. Dave thought we were dorks.

Lindsay organized a nice surprise dinner for Rob, although he found out and I had to tell him. But he went and had fun, which I knew he would. Rob's not comfortable with any kind of public attention so any birthday acknowledgement upsets him greatly. Kim and Dennis, Shelby, Dave, Lindsay and Ryan were all there. I sent him flowers, but they never got there (Watch out for flowers.com -- their service is quite spotty.)

Courtney, Dave and I went to see the latest Harry Potter movie. Here's the thing: EVERYONE has read the book when he/she goes to the movie so there can't be much deviation. But Rowling writes such long -- and delicious -- tomes that they have to be hacked for a movie. I think I speak for many Potter fans when I say it's kind of hard when you're filling in all the missing parts in your head. But we saw it in a digital, big-screened theater which is a great place for Harry Potter films because they have such great special effects.

One regional note: In Ohio people bolt for the door the minute the credits hit the screen. In California -- at least in our part of Cali., people read all the credits. I figure it's because so many people work in the entertainment industry in Southern California.