A rare treat

 

This photo is completely overexposed (it's hard to see that teenie little screen on my camera without glasses, but I can't take pictures with reading glasses on because they blur things far away ... yet another joy of aging), so I got creative. Anyway, if you're wondering, it's soft-shelled crabs with almond slivers.

I had to do an interview with some ladies about the local symphony's fundraiser and we met at the Promenade at Westlake -- a shopping center in Thousand Oaks, which just also happens to have the closest Bristol Farms gourmet grocery store. For some reason the corporate powers that be have decreed Ventura as not having the right "socioeconomic profile" to deserve a gourmet grocery store. This, despite the fact that the average home is worth well over $500,000 and that our downtown houses to a booming restaurant trade.

So if I want anything more than what the local big chains offer -- Von's, Ralph's and on the west side, the world dirtiest Albertson's -- I have to go either to Santa Barbara or Thousand Oaks, both equa-distant on either side of Ventura. It's probably a good thing because every time I get near a gourmet market I'm like Carrie Bradshaw in the Bloomingdale's shoe department -- devoid of all reason besides that of acquisition.

Adding to my manic mood was the fact that I'd survived another week of turmoil. Rob was called into eye surgery last Wednesday. After repairing his retina, the doctor lets it heal. The eyeball is left lens-less and filled with oil during this repair process. According to Rob's doctor, patients are left like this for up to a year, but Rob heals exceptionally well, so they were ready to give him a new lens after five months. The second operation is where Rob gets his new lens (now we both have artificial parts) and the oil is drained and replaced by gas or air, which will itself eventually be replaced by viscous fluid Rob's body will produce.

An opening came up after we raised a stink trying to find out when the surgery was scheduled -- Kaiser Permanente in West Los Angeles has a real problem with the whole scheduling concept. This meant that I had to drive Rob to L.A. for what we were told was a 9 a.m. appointment. Of course, the surgery wasn't actually scheduled until 2 p.m. -- this is what I man about scheduling.

To get anywhere in L.A. at 9 a.m. from Ventura means getting going at at least 6 a.m. Los Angeles traffic is unpredictable and impossible. There's no way to tell, coming in from the north, when, exactly, you're going to get anywhere. Traffic stops usually in Calabasas and is bumper to bumper pretty much through the L.A. area.

We decided to take the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) because the 101/405 interchange, justifiably rated as the worst in the country in most rankings, is always a nightmare. The PCH is risky, though, because it's two lanes in many places and there's also construction, so it can come to a grinding halt easily. Even so, it's nicer to be stuck in traffic with waves lapping the rocks on the side of the road than it is to be stuck in the vast wastelands of The Valley.

Rob and I ended up having to sit around -- he in his hospital gown with a saline drip -- waiting five hours for the surgery. We would have pitched a fit, but we've learned that there are certain places -- Kaiser Permanente West Los Angeles, being one of them -- where the time/space continuum is warped and resistance, as they say, is futile. Unlike the island on Lost, it's not a cool space/time rift, it's just a pain in the ass -- the ass that gets sore just sitting around.

I took off as soon as they wheeled him off because I was exhausted and he was going to be drugged after surgery and probably wouldn't need visitors. I know I didn't really need visitors when I was coming off my knee replacement. Extreme pain and discomfort tend to demand a lot of attention and it's hard to entertain, even minimally.

The surgery went well and Rob was released the next day. It was pretty hilarious at the hospital because they had to keep wheeling Rob around because he was a patient and there I was hobbling along on my new knee with my cane, looking far more in need of assistance.

After all of this, I was really in the mood to get some nice, little treat at Bristol Farms and I knew just the thing. In late May it's soft-shell crab season. When I lived in Ohio, the local gourmet store -- the incomparable Dorothy Lane Market -- used to carry them. Here, in California it's so far away from the Mid-Atlantic Coast where the crabs molt each year, that finding soft- shelled crabs is next to impossible. Sometimes, I'll order them at sushi places -- they're frozen and dipped in tempura batter. But they're not really the same.

Lo and behold, and much to my delight, Bristol Farms actually had the crabs and they weren't frozen. They were actually alive. I was so psyched I overlooked the $25 a pound price tag and got three. I had the butcher clean them, which is good because I tend to bond with living things.

I prepared them as I always do -- simply and deliciously. When I had my food column in the Ventura County Star, I ran this recipe and someone wrote me and chastised me for making it so simple. They seemed to feel that I needed to make up some kind of heavy batter to "properly" fry soft-shelled crabs. Yuk! When you get a great ingredient -- a once-every-10-years ingredient -- you don't muck it up with all kinds of distracting elements. No! You cook it as simply and as well as you can. After all that's the point of a special treat.

I bought Rob a sirloin steak on sale -- which at Bristol Farms means it costs less than $30 a pound -- and prepared it simply on the grill. The steak was amazingly good, especially for a sirloin. I had my soft-shelled crabs and they were every bit as delicious and wonderful as I'd hoped and remembered.

If you ever come across them, here's the recipe that perfectly frames the wonderful culinary sensations that are soft-shelled crabs.

Soft-shelled crabs amandine

olive oil
butter
3 soft-shelled crabs, cleaned
1 cup flour
1/2 cup slivered almonds

Heat olive oil and butter in skillet. Dredge crabs in flour. I don't season the flour because I find the taste of the crabs to be a bit salty and I don't like the way pepper tastes with this (frankly, I think pepper is overused, but that's a whole different topic). Cook crabs over medium heat until browned on both sides. Add almonds when you flip the crabs over, after cooking about 4 to 5minutes. Serve crabs with almonds on top.

I just serve them with a salad. I love the crunch and saltiness of the crabs combined with the almond flavor.

Despite everything, this meal was totally worth it.

Rehab/physical therapy/disability

This is a picture of one of my favorite recent weekly flower arrangements, larkspur and Queen Anne's Lace. I get flowers each week at the Ojai farmers market; it's my "thing."

I'm struggling with a sense of being actually "disabled." Up to now, I've maintained that everything that's happening to me is temporary and I'll be walking like my old self in no time. I mean, I went to the doctor last May 31, complaining that my ankle hurt and my joints -- knees and hips were achy. And while that would have been enough for most people, I had to go and get hit by a truck just days after -- June 5 -- and everything has gone downhill precipitously since then.

What was a tender ankle turned out to be a torn tendon, which has been surgically repaired, but is still sensitive and weak. Then my knee completely collapsed on itself and I now have a new knee -- and a "knee card" (more later). Everyone is really excited about how well I'm doing post-surgery, but I can't help but wonder how well I'm really doing.

The bad part is that I never wanted to be one of those old people who sat around worrying about her health, and now look at me. I'm up to walking with a cane and can finally make it to the first bench at the dog park (there are three benches at various points each farther away from the car and each -- at this point -- a milestone of sorts).

Perhaps it's the physical therapy that's making me feel so glum. Anyone who's had any kind of orthopedic surgery can tell you that one of the main components of treatment in today's world is physical therapy. It's especially important for knee (and hip) replacement because the body has a tendency to form scar tissue after being wounded so profoundly (cutting off the ends off bones counts as "profound" in my book). As a result, the first thing they do post-surgery is have the physical therapy people come in and get you back on your feet.

This is OK by me. The whole point of subjecting myself to all this pain and discomfort is so that I can walk again, so I'm all about getting up and at it. Of course, the first physical therapist they sent in was about 5 feet tall and 100 pounds, if she'd eaten a really big meal. I asked her when she was getting me up for my first walk what, exactly, she planned to do if I DID go down. I'm not exactly a tiny person, and the laws of gravity are, shall we say, amplified in my case. In other words, I'll go down hard. She just grinned nervously.

Since the hospital stay I've had a physical therapist come to the house for the immediate post-surgery work and now I go to the office. The thing I'm struggling with, though, is that unlike previous gym work, this doesn't make me feel good in any way. In fact, after every session, my knee is swollen at least to twice the size it was when I went in and it's painful and weak for at least a day or two.

I can't figure out why this is supposed to be a good idea. I'm all about getting up and being active. I was cooking the first week home from the hospital. I've planted a lot of my spring flowers, even though I require a lot of help from Rob. I do my exercises all the time and ice my knee religiously. But I move at a pace that makes my leg stronger. I push past mild pain -- they DID cut my quadriceps and it's taking a while to heal and become strong again, but I quit when it really hurts. The physical therapy people only seem to feel I'm doing good work if tears are streaming from my face.

The bottom line for me is that I've become really attuned to my body and it's structural workings and I really don't understand how pushing it to the point of agony is going to heal it.

I wish there were some realistic guide to recovery out there. Martha Stewart had a hip replacement last year, but she likes to be all tough and heroic and it was announced that she was "back to work" in five days. This is unfair to the rest of us, who can't afford to hire the best therapists and medical staff and have to scrape by with whatever managed care allows. It's also not fair because it's simply not true. There is no one who is going to recover from joint replacement after 5 days and it makes those of us who are struggling with our own recoveries feel inadequate.

Watching closely I've noticed that Martha still is careful about her bad hip, but she doesn't allow it to be shown on camera, which is too bad for those of us who are looking to her to have a realistic idea of how the healing process will proceed. It's really hard to learn to walk again when a significant joint has been replaced by a mechanical one. It's hard to get the muscles to learn to work with a made-made prosthesis.

I suppose my point is that it would be a lot easier for me to recuperate if I could get a little less of a boot camp attitude from everyone. I'm not some green recruit who needs to be bullied into accomplishment.

Sigh. I suppose a few weeks from now when I'm walking better this will all seem whiny and self-involved -- at least that's what I'm hoping for.

Oh yeah, back to the "knee card." I'm now the proud carrier of a card that shows an x-ray of my new knee along with my doctor's name so I can go through security checkpoints. That's right. From now on, I'll always have to be carefully wanded down to get on planes -- cool huh?

Another thing: Maybe my disappointment is stemming from the fact that my new knee turns out NOT to be bionic. Seriously. I've tried jumping over the car and NOTHING. Damn!

He's dead to me

I was given the assignment of covering a Berry Blast-off recipe contest for the Star. I've covered a million little community things over the years, so I know the drill. This was going to be an Iron Chef-style competition for the best strawberry recipe that didn't need to be baked.

I was sitting there when Tracy Lehr from KEYT News stopped by and said her camera guy was on his way. The KEYT camera guy is Sean -- my nephew. So I'm sitting at the judges table when I hear my name and turn around to face a camera lens about 10 inches from my nose.

After establishing that we were both there to cover the same thing, I told Sean "Make sure I'm not in any shots." When I have full use of my legs, I tend to follow the cameraman around -- then I'm never in any pictures. But since I'm hobbled, I issued the directive.

It was actually a good thing Sean was there because even though I'd called ahead to inform them I was on crutches -- I NEVER EVER want to go through what happened to me in Vegas -- no one informed me that the entrance to the cook-off area was behind the Courtyard Marriott. So I went in the main entrance and had to walk down a really long hall, take a left, walk completely down another hall to reach the area. I was bitching about this to Sean, who then offered to move my car, which was really nice and useful.

But after, when I was working on my story at home, I got a phone call from Sean -- we have individual rings for family members and Sean and Gen's is the Star Spangled Banner. He said, "You might be on TV. You might be eating something. And it MIGHT be coming on in a couple of minutes." I responded with death threats and he just laughed.

No one was home and no one answered when I called their cells, but I finally got in touch with Kim -- my friend. I needed to commiserate. The piece aired and there I was, crutches and all, eating something, as promised.

One of the ways Rob and I will never be native Southern Californians is that we HATE having our pictures taken. For me, it's because I can maintain some self-delusion about how well I'm aging. Photographs burst my little bubble. I like the fantasy. Or as Judd Hersh put it on Numb3rs, "as long as I stay away from all reflective surfaces, I can pretend I'm 18 again."

Recovery

The past couple of weeks have given me a new perspective on the whole recuperation process. As anyone who has ever had to recover from major surgery or a major injury knows, it's the recovery that is so difficult. I've been very lucky to have not experienced any of this before now, but now that my time has come, I'm finding the entire process to be as unpleasant as everyone has always said it would be.

For me, the tedium is oppressive. I have to lie strapped to the CPM machine for about 6 hours a day, although I actually only do about 4-5 because my hip really starts to hurt after a while. I've also found that it's helpful to just strap myself down for a half hour at a time from time to time so the knee keeps being mobile. The knee itself feels really weird. It's gradually getting stronger, but isn't ready to work unsupported yet. So I'll be hobbling along and then the knee kind of gives out. It's not painful, but it's a bit scary because I have a justifiable fear of tipping over.

The fact that Rob is pretty much incapacitated by his lens-less eye isn't helping much at all. We need to be driven everywhere right now. Actually, I haven't ventured out yet, but Rob can't drive because he's lost half of his field of vision and has no depth perception. Lindsay and Dena -- who have made up for all intents and purposes -- yeah!!!!! -- have been great about making sure the doggies go to the park each day and running us to the store and the pharmacy for food and pills.

The one thing that makes me feel better is cooking. I feel as though I can STILL do something that yields concrete results. The smells also make me feel safe during a time when our lives are so uncertain. Three nights after I got home, I made up some Spaghetti alla Bolognese. I had been reading recipes for years about how the tomatoes, cooked slowly with milk, form an amazing rich sauce. Most recipes call for expensive combinations of ground meats, including pork and veal. But we don't eat veal -- we have a real problem with torturing animals any more than necessary -- and the difference in taste is negligible. The cheap ground beef worked out really well, as long as you remember to drain it thoroughly.

This sauce really needs to sit and simmer for hours to get the full effect.

Spaghetti alla Bolognese

1-plus pound inexpensive ground beef
4 slices thick bacon, cut into half-inch pieces
1 medium onion chopped
4 carrots chopped
3 celery stalks chopped
4 (or more) pieces of garlic minced
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon thyme
1 teaspoon oregano
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup milk
3/4 cup dry red wine (I used Merlot)
1 can Progresso crushed tomatoes with puree

Brown the beef and bacon in a Dutch oven. Drain meat leaving only a small amount of fat for the vegetables. Add chopped onion, carrots and celery and cook until vegetables are starting to wilt. Add garlic and cook until fragrant -- about 30 seconds. Add herbs and salt, along with milk, wine and tomato sauce. Simmer over low heat for at least two hours.

They cut my knee off ...

 

 

 

More to come when I'm feeling better, but, first, a description.
I made a fabulous Spaghetti alla Bollegnese, which filled the house with wonderful cooking smells and lifted my spirits. There's also a picture of The Machine that's at the center of my life right now. It's a CPM machine -- continuous passive movement machine, which basically moves my leg up and back to prevent the formation of scar tissue, which can completely undermine a knee replacement. I have to be strapped to it at least 8 hours a day. Finally, in my convalescence, Fuser has taken the role of his mommy's protector quite seriously.

A brief synopsis:

I made it through the knee replacement surgery just fine and spent five days in the hospital. It was a miserable experience overall, and now I'm home convalescing and they are sending what seems like an army, but is in fact, only two people, to the house for followup care -- one is a physical therapist who makes me do exercises that my poor, miserable body doesn't want to do and the other is a chatty home nurse who takes my vitals and will draw blood.

They have to monitor my Coumadin level. They give blood thinners to joint replacement patients to make sure they don't get blood clots, then they have to monitor how much you're taking to make sure you don't bleed out of your eyeballs (like Dennis Quaid's kids did).

Anyway life right now is lurching from pain to pain, so I'll write more when I'm more coherent.

The best pizza (Except for Tony's)

 

 

Rob and I have slowly come to the conclusion that most pizza that you can get these days is pretty disgusting. Pizza Hut's is way too greasy, Domino's is way too sweet; Rob won[t even touch Papa John's and is less than lukewarm about the other available chains. I still maintain that Tony's Pizzaria in Ventura -- a rundown shack at the corner of Figueroa and Thompson that serves really New York-style pizza and reminds me of home -- is the best, but Rob isn't all that fond.

So I decided to try to make my own pizza. I also wanted a more healthy pizza because Kaia was visiting us for her first overnight and she likes pizza -- in fact it's one of the few foods she'll eat.

I looked up recipes for pizza dough online and found one that had been well-reviewed from Giada DeLaurentis on the Epicurious web site. I made the dough with some rapid rise yeast and it came out really well and was easy to work with. I then fashioned my own pizza sauce using crushed tomatoes and a can of tomato paste for sweetness. I cooked it in a really hot -- 500-degree -- oven with my pizza stone (which sadly broke) and it came out really well.

In fact, Rob ate all the leftovers, except for those Dena ate after picking off the meat and he's wondering if we can't make it again this weekend.

The best homemade pizza

Pizza dough (from Giada Delaurentis at Epicurious.com)

3/4 cup warm water (105°F to 115°F)
1 envelope active dry yeast

2 cups (or more) all purpose flour
1 teaspoon sugar
3/4 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons olive oil

Pour 3/4 cup warm water into small bowl; stir in yeast. Let stand until yeast dissolves, about 5 minutes.

Brush large bowl lightly with olive oil. Mix 2 cups flour, sugar, and salt in processor. Add yeast mixture and 3 tablespoons oil; process until dough forms a sticky ball. Transfer to lightly floured surface. KNEAD dough until smooth, adding more flour by tablespoonfuls if dough is very sticky, about 1 minute. Transfer to prepared bowl; turn dough in bowl to coat with oil. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let dough rise in warm draft-free area until doubled in volume, about 1 hour. PUNCH down dough. DO AHEAD Can be made 1 day ahead. Store in airtight container in refrigerator. ROLL out dough according to recipe instructions. (Start in center of dough, working outward toward edges but not rolling over them.)

*I spread my dough out in a large cookie sheet, which worked perfectly and was the right size for this recipe.

Pizza sauce

3 tablespoons olive oil
1 small onion, diced
2-3 cloves garlic minced
1 can Progresso crushed tomatoes with puree
1 small can tomato paste
1 tablespoon dried oregano
2 bay leaves
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon salt

Heat olive oil in saucepan over medium heat. Add onions and cook until they become translucent, about 2-3 minutes. Add minced garlic cloves and cook until fragrant -- about 30 seconds. Add crushed tomatoes and tomato paste. Add oregano, bay leaves, Worcestershire sauce and salt and stir. Allow to simmer on low heat for at least a half hour.

To make the pizza:
Place pizza stone in oven on bottom rack and heat oven to 500 degrees. Preheat for at least an hour. Spray olive oil spray on a cookie sheet. Stretch or roll dough out to fit on the sheet, repairing holes if they crop up. Top with tomato sauce, using a ladle and starting from the middle and woring out toward the edges, but not all the way t the edges. Top with whatever you like -- I use prosciutto and regular ham and it was delicious. Top with fresh mozzarella cut into quarter-inch circles. Top that with shredded Italian blend cheese and with grated Parmesan cheese. Cook on top of pizza stone for 10 minutes.

Like pretty much everyone in the country these days, we're watching our pennies as prices just rise and rise inexorably. I have a standing rule that I don't pay more than $5 for meat for a meal, which means that we're getting more interesting cuts of meat to work with. They had some pork pieces the other day and they just screamed "souvlaki" to me (Maybe I should check the dosage on my meds ;-). I totally love this recipe because it's so flavorful and so healthy; now I have to convince Rob it's really OK to eat something called "souvlaki."

Souvlaki

1 lb pork (boneless "country-style" ribs are good)
4 garlic cloves, finely minced
juice of 1 lemon
zest of 1 lemon
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
salt
pepper
Pitas (I used whole wheat for better taste and health benefits)
olive oil spray
garlic powder
tszaziki sauce (Recipe follows)

Soak about 4 bamboo skewers in water for at least a half an hour. Cut pork into 1-inch pieces. Mix together lemon juice, zest, olive oil, garlic, salt and pepper. Toss the pork pieces in the marinade and let sit for about 15 minutes. Put all the meat on the skewers, brush with marinade and grill over low heat for about 20 minutes, turning every 5 minutes or until browned and cooked through. Spray pitas with olive oil spray and sprinkle with garlic powder. Place each pita on the grill for 1 minute a side. Place skewered meat in pita and serve with tszaziki sauce and feta. You can also add lettuce and tomatoes.

Tszaziki sauce
1 cup European-style yogurt (you can find this at Trader Joe's)
1 cup chopped cucumber -- diced into 1/4 inch pieces
2-3 cloves garlic put through garlic press

Mix together and store for use with a variety of dishes.

Health update

I'm kind of getting tired of the health issues -- it makes me feel sooo old, so I'm putting this as an afterthought. I'm in the final countdown to knee replacement surgery and went to see my primary care physician yesterday. We had a nice heart to heart where I expressed my extreme frustration at having had to go through a completely needless surgery. While he didn't go so far as to agree with me, he did finally realize as he looked at my x-rays that my knee is in really really bad shape. He also noted that my other knee -- the right one -- is looking prety bad too and will likely need to be replaced down the line. The arthritis there is significant. So the question I had was how did what was mild to moderate osteoarthritis become a complete joint collapse in less than a year? And I'm getting no good answers.

I mean is this a trend that is going to continue as all my joints break down? He did a lot of blood work that didn't show too much out of the ordinary. My blood sugar is a bit high, but I'm watching my diet carefully and avoiding sugar anyway. I need to be able to exercise and sleep properly and that should get it right back down.

So right now isn't really a good time, but things will get better, I'm assured, once I have a new knee. I may end up down the road with all new joints, but I guess I'll have to deal with that as it comes. No need in getting all worked up now, although I suppose I have to resign myself to always having to go in the "special" line at metal detectors.

I did some online research and have started a regimen of suppliments that are meant to deal with the arthritis pain and the hot flashes of menopause, which are making the whole ordeal all that much more special. I'll report any progress.

Early Easter

It's a rare year when the St. Patrick's Day celebration runs right into Easter; when you can use leftover cabbage for corned beef to make coleslaw to go with the Easter ham. This year Easter fell extraordinarily early -- in fact as early as I'll ever see in my lifetime. I ended up writing a story for the Ventura County Star that looked at the way Easter Sunday is determined and all of the other odd and fun traditions associated with the holiday.

This year's Easter was a real celebration for us. The weather here in Southern California couldn't have been any nicer. The temperatures were in the mid-80s by mid-morning, but then they cooled a bit. We were able to eat outside on the patio, which was great.

One of the things I noticed about Southern California is the lack of bugs. Pretty much everywhere I've lived, whenever the weather gets warm, the bugs come out and having picnics and outdoor dining becomes annoying at best as mosquitoes try to feast on you as flies try to feast on your food. Here, even though it's warm all year 'round, we don't have many bugs.

I've always posited that it's because they spray so much insecticide around here -- Ventura County tops the lists for strawberry and lemon production. Whatever it is, it sure makes for some pleasant dining al fresco. As a result of the bucolic settings, outdoor picnics are part and parcel of life in this part of the world. As Rob and I came home Easter morning from the Ojai farmer's market (No. Our good friends Mary and Ted weren't there this time.) we noticed that Foster Park, which lies right next to the Ventura River was almost full and there was a line of cars waiting to get in.

I was pondering all of this when I got an email from my cousin John, who lives in northern Vermont and spent Easter snowed in under piles of snow.

Um, ewwwwwwww! as we say here in SoCal.

This year everyone came over. Lindsay and Dena have arrived at some kind of detente, which is wonderful for those of us on the sidelines who just wanted them to get along, so we could all get along. This meant that not only did we have the usual suspects for Easter dinner -- Rob's nephews Sean and Colin, along with Gen, Kaia and Tracy, but we also had Lindsay and Ryan and Dena and her boyfriend Chris (who BTW has a man-crush on Rob, but doesn't everyone?). Then Shelby and Casey came by and Tressa stopped over.

So we had the whole big passel of people I love to have around during holidays. We were able to get a super-duper bargain on the ham and the lamb was also on sale. I also made everyone's favorite scalloped potatoes, the recipe is from Epicurious and Rhodes rolls. I grilled the lamb outside and it got away from me even in a turned-down grill, but I just cut off the burnt parts and the inside was delicious. The ham was a departure from Honeybaked Ham, which I love, but I found one on sale for $.79 a pound and cooked it up. It was fabulous.

The key is to pour about a cup of apple juice with a splash of vinegar and wrap it with parchment paper topped with aluminum foil and cook in in a slow oven for about three hours. It made the meat really tender and sweet. I finished it off with a glaze of brown sugar, apple cider vinegar, horseradish mustard and cloves. I got this recipe also from Epicurious.

Kaia came over the day before and we died eggs and made cupcakes. This recipe from Cook's Illustrated is the best I've tried for yellow cake and foolproof chocolate frosting. I put them on one of those three-tier-thingies they sell at Linens and Things-type places, nestled in Easter grass. They were quite the hit.

I used leftover cabbage (organic from the farmers market)to make coleslaw to go with everything. This is a recipe I got from my former mother-in-law. I've fiddled with it a bit.


Coleslaw
1 large head of cabbage or 2 small cabbages, sliced and chopped into fairly small slaw-like pieces
4 peeled carrots, shredded on a box grater
3 large stalks of celery cut into small (1/4-inch) pieces
1 1/2 cups Miracle Whip
3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1-2 tablespoons sugar (use more if you're using buttermilk
1/4 cup milk or buttermilk
salt
pepper
1 teaspoon celery seed

Mix everything together and taste often for seasoning. Put in refrigerator and prior to serving taste again and adjust seasonings as necessary.


Kaia ended up sprawled on the coach complaining, "I think I've had too much sugar," which is actually probably not far from the truth. Rob and I sat around as everyone chatted before they headed out, enveloping ourselves in the warmth of their companionship.

It was definitely a wonderful day.

Seeing famous people

One of the things that's cool about living in Southern California, besides the weather, the scenery and the produce, is knowing you always have a chance to see someone famous. Not boring famous, like the people my mom let everyone know she knew -- Nobel prize winners, leading academics of all sorts. The people here are the flashy, trashy kind of famous that attracts people like moths.

Unfortunately I rarely ever see anyone famous. I'm always a few minutes too early or too late when I visit The Grove or the Malibu Mart. It's not like I'm transfixed or anything, I just like seeing famous people. I don't want to talk to them -- I really don't like talking to strangers in general. I just want to note that I've seen them.

But today when we went up for our weekly pilgrammage to Ojai to the farmer's market(they have the best flowers -- cheaper than at the Ventura farmers market)we saw Ted Danson and Mary Steenburgen. You'd notice him even if he weren't famous. He's about 6'4" and has a shock of "glowing" (Rob's word) white hair. The man doesn't blend into a crowd. Mary Steenburgen looked like a run-of-the-mill Ojai matron. She's tall -- my height (5'9") and thin. She's an attractive woman who looks her age, not all plastic-y and freaky the way so many do.

They had these annoyed/wary/scared expressions on their faces. I kind of understood. Back when I was younger, I used to be fairly attactive and, for some reason, men felt they could approach me or honk and yell at me. It really sucked. There you are wandering around in your own little world, entertaining yourself by observing and just enjoying a nice day and someone feels they can come up and be all in your face. Father Time has taken care of that problem for me, but for Ted Danson, the attention must be constant. Even in Ojai, where people pride themselves on their cool, there was a ripple of "That's Ted Danson" and "Where's Mary?"

The most famous person I've seen since I moved here was Ray Charles who was on a flight Lindsay and I were taking home from Ohio. He was reading braille, which is weird because you almost never see people reading braille (BTW Does anyone besides me find having braille on the key pads at ATM drive-thrus to be hysterical?). The flight was actually delayed a bit so they could load him and his band and everyone looked annoyed until word got out that it was Ray Charles, and then no one seemed to mind. And if one more person replied to my "I saw Ray Charles." with "He didn't see YOU!" I was going to smack him/her.

I saw Corbin Bernsen once at the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. I heard a kid screaming, "Daddy, Daddy!" really hysterically and the mom in me immediately looked to find out what was going on. I ascertained it was Corbin Bernsen and a dark-haired kid who looked about 6 or 7. I must have given Corbin Bernsen a dirty what-are-you-doing-to-that-poor-child look because he hustled away looking worried.

We see people like Peter Strauss and Bruce McGill in Ojai from time to time. We've never seen Larry Hagman, despite his claims to the area. I see Michael Pare from Eddie and the Cruisers all the time because he lives near here and loves Tony's Pizzaria even more than I do. Bonnie Franklin also lives nearby and I saw her at the Ventura farmers market one time.

Oh yeah, we saw John Travolta when he was filming Swordfish in downtown Ventura. We took Jersey (our dearly departed cocker spaniel)there to get her discovered, and also because we could later see the movie and know we were there. He was really gracious and got out to wave at the crowd before being whisked off by limo to his house in nearby Montecito.

I'm not going to count the people we've seen at the local repertory theater -- The Rubicon -- because I don't think it counts when you see someone performing. They have to actually intersect your life randomly for them to count as your new best friend.

Like our new good buddies Mary and Ted.

Update!
I sent an item in to Defamer, a gossip web site that has a Privacywatch section where readers end in items about famous people they've seen. Yes. I'm THAT shallow. Anyway they put it in this week's editions.

I TOLD you things were looking up.

Keepin on keepin on

Not much to report here in the House of Pain. We went to Smell-A to see Rob's doctor and it was stinky. As you crest the hill outside of Calabasas, you can see the layer of yellow smog that enveloped the city. Ewwwwwww. I'm SO glad I live in Ventura.

As far as Rob is concerned, his eye is doing well and healing nicely -- as nicely as could be hoped for. His surgeon got that "Damn! I do good work" face that we -- as patients -- just LOVE to see on our doctors. My foot doctor had the same reaction to his work on my ankle and I must say it's getting better and better, which is good because it's being pressed into service as the good leg, now that the left knee is shot.

All of this convalescing is driving us a bit crazy. Rob has taken to such activities as making Fuser into a Butter Cup (See photo of the poor dog's shame above). Dena says he's crossed the line and she's right. At least I'm starting to get some freelance work, which gives me something productive to do. This has been wonderful for my overall outlook and Rob needs the same thing.

Poor Courtney is trying to get her second baby Alex Baptized and she wants her parents there but we're all falling apart. Courtney's Dad -- my ex -- has just been hit with health problems of his own. Damn! We're only in our 50s and we're all falling apart. Fortunately, there's light at the end of our tunnel. Rob's eye should be better soon. And my surgery is looming -- which really sucks -- but when it's over, we should be on the road to recovery.

Food-related tips I wanted to pass along:

We're trying to eat healthier and cheaper, what with the shaky economy and all and to do so, we're looking at our shopping habits. I've always been a HUGE fan of farmer's markets and they are a fabulous source of fresh produce. Those of us in Southern California have no excuse for trying to buy as locally as we can, seeing as we really live in the best area for produce in the world IMO. Our diet is now full of such things as chard, collard greens, arugula and spinach.

We've also been looking for better, less expensive sources for meat. We live in the part of town where there is a large concentration of people of Hispanics. This seems to scare a lot of people around here, but we've found the entire neighborhood to be pretty nice, actually. One thing we've discovered are the Hispanic grocery stores. I've mentioned them before. But I just love the fact that they actually have butchers who work behind the meat counter. And there's not just one there are always a few taking care of customers and cutting meat to order, which is a real luxury in this day and age of pre-packaged plastic packs. The meat always looks really fresh, which stands to reason because they do a lot of business. The prices are always good, which appeals to the many families you see there.

Rob says write it down

I made a really delicious pork tenderloin tonight with a cream sauce. It was so scrumptious that Rob told me to write down the recipe so I can make it again without "getting all fancy." It really did come out well. I've been playing around with flavors and this is one of my better efforts.

Pepita-crusted pork tenderloin with smoky cream sauce
1 cup shelled pepitas -- pumpkin seeds. I used salted and roasted ones. You can use raw for more salt control
1 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon chili powder
1/2 teaspoon granulated garlic
1/2 teaspoon granulated onion
1 pork tenderloin
5 tablespoons canola oil

Grind pepitas in a food processor until you have a coarse texture. Mix with spices and granulated onion and garlic. Coat the pork tenderloin with 2 tablespoons of the oil. Heat the remaining three tablespoons in a large deep-sided skillet. Cook over medium to medium-low heat, covered. Turn every five minutes until the tenderloin is browned on all sides -- about 20 minutes for medium-well to well done (Rob and I were brought up in the days of eating well-done pork and still have trouble bringing ourselves to eat it less well done).

Smoky cream sauce

1 shallot, chopped
3/4 cup white wine
1 cup chicken stock
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika

Clean the skillet of excess oil and roasted pepitas -- you don't have to be too careful, just pour off the excess. Add shallot and cook until starting to become translucent. Add wine and chicken stock and cook over medium high to high heat until reduced by more than half -- the liquid should be getting visibly thicker. Add heavy cream and smoked paprika. Check for flavor and adjust as necessary. Serve with pepita-crusted pork tenderloin.

Grandbabies

 

 

 

 

Here are some shots Courtney took today of the boys. In some shots, Cody is really starting to look a lot like my brother Rodger did when he was little. In others he looks so much like his dad. It's always amazing to see what happens with each generation -- how the old morphs to re-form into something unique and wonderful. I really miss these guys and wish we could be a bigger part of their lives. Sigh.

This are looking up -- even if Rob isn't

This guy is Dexter, Colin's new dog. He and Fuser have found they have similar sensibilities -- if you can call a lot of licking each other's penis a sensitivity.


Actually Rob's eye is healing quite nicely. It helps that he's in overall good health--aside from the elevated cholesterol (My new goal in life; trying to convince Rob that green leafy vegetables aren't poisoned). Of course, he's going completely crazy sitting around the house, being unable to drive or do any strenuous activity. The doctor -- who thinks Lindsay is cute;-) -- said Rob is recovering well and his eye looks good -- well actually it looks pretty gross, but healing-wise it looks good.

I, on the other hand, have found out that the surgery I just went through was a complete and total waste of time. The doctor FINALLY decided to do an x-ray after the physical therapist said I wasn't getting any better and moved the post-op appointment up from the middle of March. The x-ray revealed that my knee is completely beyond repair, that I still have a big, old bone spur in the joint and that there was no hope that the surgery was going to do a thing. The doctor says the joint has "completely collapsed." And that MRIs sometimes make thing look better than they are. Seriously? We couldn't have x-rayed the damned thing BEFORE the last surgery?

Yes. I'm pissed. I have to get a knee replacement, which is severe. They actually are making me take a class before I get the surgery. Great. I have to sit around with a bunch of seniors -- I mean a lot more senior than me -- for two hours as we're told how to get our homes in order for post-op. Of course, I've just made it through tendon repair surgery, which had me on crutches for six weeks, so I think I have a pretty good idea of what I need to do to get ready. Actually this is easier because I'll be on two feet -- albeit hobbling, not just hopping around on a gimpy knee -- remember my bad foot is on the opposite leg as my bad knee-- the way I was after the tendon repair.

They gave me a big folder with pictures of Golden Girls all learning how to walk again. Great. They have a list of questions to bring to the class. I have some questions. What's the hospital's rate for staph infections? How about MRSA? The LAST place I want to spend any time is in the hospital, and this is an in-hospital operation. Plus, everyone, the doctors in the HMO system and people around town, say our local hospital sucks. Seriously. But if I push for going to L.A., my choice of a new knee is restricted by the HMO and I get a crap one, rather than the gender-specific one. So long-term, I'm (hopefully) better off here. At least the hospital has great views of the ocean and the mountains.

In the meantime, I'm hobbling around, very slowly and in a LOT of pain. As I was leaving to go to the doctor's, I said, "I'm going to run." My husband, the one-eyed wonder, said, "Run Forest Run!" Oh, and I STILL have the damned lump on my hip -- smaller, but still there.

So what's this good news I've heard tell about, you're wondering -- if you haven't gotten tired of my bitching -- well I FINALLY got some freelance work. Glory! Alleluia!

Kim, who is a dear, dear friend, has been pushing to get me some freelance work at the Star, so I've been picking up assignments for them. It's so great to be doing some writing. Besides this blog, I haven't been doing much, so it's so good to be back doing interviews and telling people's stories. I absolutely love these community-kind of stories because I love getting people to tell their tales and I have so much fun drawing those stories out and organizing them into compelling (hopefully) narratives.

On top of that I got an assignment from Sunset magazine. Back in October 2006, I'd emailed a former colleague who had gone on to become the web editor at Sunset Magazine -- one of my very favorite magazines ever. She referred me to another person there who did the custom publishing and he said he'd keep my name on file. Then I heard nothing, but I'm used to that since I've sent off about a zillion queries and job applications and rarely hear back. Well a few weeks ago, I got an email from a woman in Berkeley wanting to know if I wanted to do some fact-checking. Did I!!!!

So I spent a few weeks working on going through these tour guides fact-checking them. When I fact check, I make sure EVERYTHING is correct. If you say you went to a little place about 7 miles south of town, I Google map it and find out exactly where it is. If you tell me you had the rabbit al dente, I find out if it's still on the menu. If you say you can sit on a wrap-around patio, I find out if the patio does, in fact, wrap around. If you say you can eat lunch at a wooded park , I look at the satellite image to make sure there are trees at said park. It was tedious, hard work and it was a blast. So, hopefully, this will develop into something more.

Before I started my spate of work, I made up a couple more recipes. One is a Moroccan-inspired dish, made with dried apricots, chickpeas and chicken. It's designed to bring more healthy foods into our loves. The other is a pasta dish with roasted red pepper sauce.

Chicken with chickpeas and apricots
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 shallot finely diced
6 boneless, skinless chicken thighs, chopped into 1-inch pieces
1 can chickpeas (Garbanzo beans)
4 ounces dried apricots, chopped coarsely
1 teaspoon turmeric
1/2 teaspoon coriander
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1 cup chicken stock
1/4 cup heavy cream

Heat the olive oil in a large skillet. Add shallot and cook on medium heat until starting to become translucent. Add chicken and cook until starting to brown. Add spices and stir, heating through about 1 minute to let the flavors bloom. Add chickpeas and apricots. Add chicken stock and allow to simmer for about 15 minutes. Add cream and bring to boil. Serve. I used Trader Joes Harvest Grains blend, which was quite tasty.

Roasted red pepper pasta
1 pound penne pasta prepared al dente
3 large red bell peppers
olive oil spray
3 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons flour
2 cups milk
1 12-ounce package Trader Joe's Quattro Fromaggio cheese
1 cup cooked chicken, diced into 1/2 inch pieces
bread crumbs

Cut peppers in half and take out the seeds and white membranes. Flatten both halves by pressing down. Get them as flat as possible. Broil directly under the heated coil or flame until the pepper skin becomes black and bubbly and all of the skin on the pepper appears to have been cooked. Put peppers in a brown paper bag and let sit for about 10 to 15 minutes. Melt butter in large saucepan. Add flour and whisk, cooking over medium heat until the roux loses its raw taste. Add milk and whisk until the sauce begins to thicken. Peel the red peppers and process them in the food processor until they're finely chopped. Add the pepper mixture to the sauce. Salt and pepper the sauce to taste (It really doesn't need much because the cheese is pretty salty and the red pepper provides a lot of flavor.) Mix the sauce with the prepared pasta and pour the mixture in a 13 x 11 baking dish. Top with bread crumbs. Broil for just a few minutes until the top is brown and bubbly. Serve.

A peek into Rob's soul

... so after his four-hour surgery, Rob was wheeled into the after-hours recovery room and I wasn't able to see him until about 7:40 p.m. Bear in mind that I'd been waiting there since 11 a.m., on top of the hour and a half-plus commute. Finally, FINALLY, the chick at the reception desk decided to let us all go back to see our loved ones -- there were a couple other people there.

I went to find Rob and the sight of him, all pale and drugged, sitting up with his eye patch on and his gown half hanging off his shoulders was enough to break my heart. "Hi honey, " I said. "How are you feeling?"

"My butt hurts," he replies.

I get all concerned. "Your butt hurts? Maybe you're sitting too long in the same position."

"No. They penetrated me. We have to go after them."

Seriously?

You come out of anesthesia, when you're supposed to be as truthful as you'll ever be -- when we get a brief glimpse into your naked soul and THIS is what I get? Jokey the one-eyed clown? Sigh.

I told him the next day and he was inordinately proud of himself. He asked if he was quiet and I assured him that he was pretty much just blurting it out for all to hear.

Healthy living and -- yes -- more surgery (but not for me)

 

People have taken to telling me, "you have nowhere to go but up. Things HAVE to get better," but they're wrong. It keeps getting worse. While I've been getting surgeries, Rob started complaining that his eye was really bothering him. Rob hadn't seen a doctor in almost 20 years and he was in no hurry to go again, but when I explained that he was going to have to see a doctor to address his eye problem, which had been going on for a while, he didn't put up a fight.

I should have been worried, but I didn't really think too hard about it when I made his appointment. He saw a doctor on a Monday, was having blood work done -- we are, after all, in our 50s and we can only be assured we're healthy these days with blood work -- and he had an appointment with a optician the next day, which was a Tuesday. Apparently in the Wide World of Managed Care, you have to see an optician before you can be referred to a opthamologist. In Rob's case, the optician took one look and schleduled an emergency appointment for him immediately with the opthamologist.

Unlike my doctors, who tend to be -- how shall I put this kindly -- less than in the top tier of their profession, (not everyone can graduate at the top of his class -- right?) this guy is an Assistant Professor of Opthamology at Johns Hopkins -- big stuff. He took one look and started the wheels in motion to have Rob seen in the West L.A. Kaiser Permanente Medical Center because none of the facilities available to us Kaiser patients in Ventura or Santa Barbara counties are equiped to deal with the complexities of Rob's detached retina.

So Wednesday found us scrambling to make a 3 p.m. appointment in Smell A. after finding out about it at 2 p.m. because the appointment person is an idiot and had forgotten to call us. Surgery was scheduled for the next day, and Thursday Rob underwent a four-hour operation to repair his messed-up eye. He had to spend the night because his doctor didn't want him traveling to Ventura and then back to L.A. in the morning. For those who don't live in Southern California, traffic in the greater Los Angeles area is a constant disaster. There is always a jam and stop-and-go traffic.

Of course, with all that traveling back and forth and waiting around, I started having extensive bruising on my leg, along with a lot of pain. I've been assured that I'm fine and that I just overdid it, but that it's understandable under the circumstances.

So here were are. Rob had to sit with his head pointed down for a week so his eye could start to heal. He had his lens removed, along with the vitreous fluid in the eye, which was replaced by oil, and a band was placed around the entire eyeball. Now he has an eyepatch and I'm walking with a cane. We look like the Pirate Couple -- Peg Leg Anne and One-eyed Rob. He'll eventually get a new lens and the oil will be replaced.

On the bright side, we're both recovering well and have been assured that we will get better. My doctor says I should be able to avoid a knee replacement right away and Rob's doctor says he may regain some sight in his eye, although it won't be much.

Along with all of the drama, it was revealed that Rob's cholesterol levels are high -- no suprise in someone who seems to have an allergy to vegetables and whole grains. So we both need to start eating a little healthier. I can't express how happy I am to finally have something to hold over his head when I try out the millions of healthy recipe ideas I have floating around in my head.

I started out with a recipe I'd conceived when I first spotted the box of Diced Harvest Medley, which is squash, yams and turnips at Trader Joe's. When I spotted the bag of rainbow-colored Swiss Chard, my concept was complete and I came up with the following. This recipe is delicious and even Rob liked it, and he didn't complain that it was meatless.

Whole wheat pasta with balsamic Diced Harvest Medley, served with braised chard

1 pound whole wheat pasta, prepared al dente according to package instructions
1 package Trader Joe's Harvest Medley
3 to 4 tablespoons olive oil
salt to taste
1 small onion, diced
2 garlic cloved minced or passed through a garlic press
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
1 cup chicken stock
1 cup grated parmesan cheese
1 cup chopped hazelnuts, toasted for 6 minutes in 350 degree oven
Heat the oil in a Dutch oven. Add Harvest Medley and started cooking over medium high heat until startgin to brown. Salt, and add onions and cook, continuing to brown. Cook until starting to carmelize. Add garlic and and stir for about 30 second or a minute or until you can smell the garlic. Add the vinegar (keep your head away from the pot to avoid vineger nose) and add the chicken stock. Cover and simmer for about 20 minutes or until vegetables are fork-tender. Add to drained pasta and toss with cheese. Top finished dish with hazelnuts and serve with chard.

Braised chard with shallots

2 laarge shallots, finely chopped
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 package Trader Joe's multi-colored chard
salt to taste
1 to 2 cups chicken stock
Red pepper flakes to taste

Heat the olive oil in a Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the shallots and cook unil translucent. Add package of chard and stir and toss, until starting to wilt. Salt. Add 1 cup of chicken stock and cover and simmer for about 15 minutes or unitl chard stems are fork-tender. Add red pepper flakes, toss and serve.

More fun in the kitchen

 

 

 

First: I had my knee surgery Monday. It went well, although my knee is pretty sore. It seems I had two meniscus tears because the little bone spurs I'm developing as the result of arthritis actually tore into the meniscus when I was hit by the truck. The doctor cleaned the whole mess up, including a floating object. The knee hurts a lot, but I can walk on it and am not nearly as incapacitated as I was after the tendon surgery. Time will tell whether this works. I still have a lump on my hip, although it's a lot smaller than before. It probably needs to be drained again. But overall I'm doing pretty well.

Whenever I'm feeling sad or nervous, I like to cook. I also like to cook when I'm happy, so I suppose it's an all-purpose outlet. I've put together a few recipes here that I made in the run-up to my latest operation. They're all pretty easy and they're quite tasty too. I had a lot of fun taking the pictures because Rob and I just went out and bought some square white serving plates, which really frame the food well.

It all started when Rob wanted to get one plate for himself -- one plate that he would use and NO ONE else could touch. So he went into the local Vons and came out with four square serving platters. I mentioned that these weren't the actual dinner plates (dumbass) he wanted and the quest was on. The square white plates had been on sale at local Vons and Rob was determined to get a set, again that only he could use. After he actually found the dinner plates, I decided we needed the salad plates and the square bowls. It's not like we actually needed new dinnerware, but once we started, we had to keep going until we had the whole set. We've found that food looks fabulous all arranged on the plates, so we're happy with our new purchases as we sit around pretending we're fine dining. Rob still insists he's the only one allowed to touch the plates, but I ignore him -- as I always do. After all, how much crediblity do you give a man who doesn't know the difference between a platter and a dinner plate?

Here is a trio of recipes that are easy, inexpensive and tasty. And they all look great on square white dishes.

The first is a standard recipe for me. I've been making some form of beef stroganoff since I was a kid and made it with hamburger. It's super easy and I just love how it tastes. The trick is to make sure not to boil the sour cream and to use a good quality white wine and sweet Hungarian paprika.

Beef stroganoff

3 tablespoons canola oil
2 pounds inexpensive beef -- whatever's on sale -- cut into two inch-long strips, 1/2 inch wide and 1/4 inch deep strips
garlic powder
1 large onion chopped
1 pound sliced mushrooms
3/4 cup dry white wine
1 teaspoon sweet Hungarian paprika
1 cup sour cream
hot, buttered egg noodles

Heat oil in a skillet. Add beef strips, sprinkled with garlic powder to taste, and cook until browned. Add onions and mushrooms and cook until starting to become soft. Add wine and cook until sauce thickens and is reduced. Sprinkle with paprika. Turn off heat and add sour cream. Serve over hot, buttered noodles.

The second recipe is the result of having passed by gorgeous heads of escarole each Sunday at the Ojai farmers market and coveting them. I saw some recipes for escarole soup and decided to make my own version. This is easy, delicious and super healthy.

Escarole and bean soup

1 head escarole, rinsed and coarsely chopped
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 quart chicken broth
1 can white beans, rinsed
crushed red pepper flakes, to taste
Parmesan cheese
Rustic Italian bread, sliced, sprayed with olive oil spray on both sides and sprinkled with garlic powder and broiled until browned on each side.

Heat olive oil in Dutch oven. Add escarole and stir over medium heat until the escarole starts to wilt. Add about a third of the broth and cook until the escarole softens completely. Add the rest of the broth and the beans and simmer over low heat for about 20 minutes. Serve over pieces of toasted rustic bread. Top with cheese and red flakes to taste.

Finally, I'm a sucker for braised red cabbage. It's so easy and healthy and it can be made up a million ways. This version pits the sour/sweet brightness of cranberry against the pungent cabbage and the sweet, earthy apples. With such strong elements, I didn't want to muddy the taste with anything else. You could remove the pork chops when they're browned and cooked through and make the cranberry glaze separately, but I had more fun making the pork chops bright red and liked how the flavor permeated them.

Red cabbage with cranberry glazed pork chops
For the cabbage

1 small head red cabbage cored and chopped into one-inch pieces
2 large apples, cored and chopped into half-inch pieces -- I used pink lady apples from the local farmers market
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 cup cranberry juice
salt and pepper to taste

For the pork chops
2 large pork loin chops
3 tablespoons canola oil
4 springs of fresh thyme
salt and pepper
1/2 cup cranberry juice
3 tablespoons butter

Heat olive oil in a large, deep skillet. Add cabbage and apples and stir until beginning to wilt. Add cranberry juice and season with salt and pepper. Reduce heat and cover and simmer for 30 minutes. Heat canola oil in a second skillet and add pork chops. Add thyme leaves and salt and pepper. Brown on both sides. Add cranberry juice and cook until reduced and thickened. Add butter when sauce is thickened and remove chops. Serve with cabbage.

Comfort food on a rainy day

 

We've finally received some rain after a two-year drought here in Southern California. When I first moved here, I was amazed at the panic that occurred during rainstorms that were -- in my Midwestern experience -- fairly light. But it quickly became evident that the reason for the panic was that the entire infrastructure is unprepared for any precipitation.

There's almost an arrogance here in Southern California, especially for those of us living by the ocean, that we really don't have to worry as much about such niceties as shelter from the weather. After all, the weather here is perfect more often than not. As another transplant put it, "If my car breaks down here, I'm not in danger of dying." So the roads are pretty much slapped down without regard to such basic engineering nicities as grading, which means that any time it sprinkles, water pools up everywhere, even on the highways where the speed limits are higher and the danger of hydroplaning is greater than in any state I've lived.

Rudimentary sewer systems -- everything drains to the ocean -- don't help the situation and the soil that makes up the hills here is sandy and unstable, kind of like packed sandcastles, so it's really easy to make it slide.

But after more than 10 years, I'm used to it. We actually live in one of the safest areas around, considering all the natural hazards. So when the rain comes, we just settle in and listen to the drops falling on the skylight. I also like to cook up warming meals that fill the house with the wonderful scent of cooking food.

This is Rob's very favorite recipe, so I make it for him on special occasions. But, just to keep things fresh, I trot it out randomly from time to time. It's super easy, but the flavor is amazing. This is one of the recipes that I make regularly that uses Reynolds oven bags. After years of trying different methods, -- slow cookers, braising in Dutch ovens -- I've found the bags offer the easiest way to make some really wonderful meals. All the food goes inside, so there's very little mess, the food cooks evenly and the flavors develop very well in the steam-filled environment. It's close to a traditional Swiss steak, but with a few differences. I know some people would look down their noses at the onion soup mix addition, but it really adds a depth of flavor. The low cooking temperature ensures a tender dish.

The thing that really sets this recipe apart is the mashed potatoes. I've worked for years perfecting my mashed potato recipe, and it's pretty close to perfect. The important thing is to take the extra time to make sure all of the ingredients are the same temperature.

Swiss steak and mashed potatoes

1 2- to 3- pound chuck roast or round steak, whatever is cheapest, slightly salted and pounded with a meat tenderizer
1 tablespoon flour
1 envelope Lipton onion soup mix
1/2 cup red wine
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 large can Progresso crushed tomatoes in puree
3 bay leaves

Heat oven to 295 degrees. Place flour and soup mix in a large Reynolds oven bag and shake to coat the interior. Place meat in the bag and shake to cover the meat. Add wine, Worcestershire sauce, crushed tomatoes and bay leaves in the bag and massage to mix. Tie the bag and poke the top with a couple of holes to steam. Place the bag on a roasting pan and cook for at least 3 hours or until meat falls apart.

Mashed potatoes

3 pounds peeled Idaho or russet potatoes, cut into large (2-inch) pieces
1 stick butter, softened (Put cold butter in microwave for 15 seconds to soften)
1 1/2 cup milk warmed in microwave for 1 minute
salt
pepper

Cook potatoes in salted boiling water until they are tender when speared with a fork. Drain thoroughly. Return to dry pot and mash together with butter with potato ricer. Add milk until soft and fluffy. Season to taste. Serve hot.
Accident update

For those of you following my recovery from my 2007 accident, I am scheduled for surgery Sept. 21. We're starting with a arthroscopic procedure, and hoping that does the trick, although the knee looks to be in pretty bad shape at this point. But my foot was in a lot better shape than the doctor initially thought, so with any luck ...

Pigs feet and sauerkraut

 

My dad was always a culinary adventurer. He just loved trying anything new and unknown. I've always been fearless when it comes to food, so the two of us would often share some of his more creative offerings. I have to admit, I drew the line at brains and eggs. I found brains to be so repulsive and they set off my gag reflex. I did, however, eat the fried tripe and pigs feet and sauerkraut. I didn't like the pigs feet and sauerkraut at first because it seemed fatty, but dad explained that it was cartilage melting down as it cooks to become gelatinous.

Somehow I got it in my head that pigs feet and sauerkraut was my signature New Years' dish. It's kind of a take on pork ribs and sauerkraut, but the pigs feet really add so much more to the taste. And because I always tended to work on New Years' Eve and New Years, I always brought a bunch of pigs feet and sauerkraut to work with me for lunch, much to the delight (so not) of my fellow workers.

One Year I got so enthusiastic eating it, I got intestinal cramps and had to go home, but every other year I look forward to my annual treat and eat it without any issues. I started tweaking the recipe a little in recent years, before it was just pigs feet and sauerkraut, but now, with the addition of apples, it's so much more.

For years and years I had a tradition of setting out in search of pigs feet. When I lived in Ohio, this was often a long and frustrating search, which took me to the far reaches of the county until I could find them. In California, where pigs feet are more common in grocery stores, they always seemed to disappear right around New Years.

After living here a few years, I realized why; they are used to make menudo, a Mexican stew made with tripe, hominy and often hooves that is known as a folk cure for hangovers. New Years is prime hangover time, so pigs feet are scarce. Then I realized that the Mexican markets would probably have them.

I've fairly recently discovered that our local Mexican markets are a treasure trove of hard-to-find and exotic (to me) items. My hunch was right and now each year finds me in my local market explaining a couple of times that I really DO want pigs feet, of which there are usually piles and, as an added bonus, Mexican markets also have butchers -- usually bunches of them -- right there ready to trim your meat. And despite the fact that communication can sometimes be a bit tricky ("Why did you get that? "I'm not entirely sure.") shopping there is always a treat. Most Anglos tend to look down their noses at the Mexican markets, which is their loss.

Sadly, I can never get anyone to share in my porcine bounty, so despite the fact that my house always smells like cooking sauerkraut at the New Year, my kids have never tried my signature New Years' meal. Oh well, that means more for me, along with glistening hair and shiny nails, although I'm sharing the recipe because if my family has anything to say about it, it will die with me -- such babies.

Pigs feet and sauerkraut

2 large jars or packages of prepared sauerkraut
4 large pigs feet -- have the butcher quarter them for best cooking.
3 large granny smith apples, chopped into large (1/2 inch) squared
1 tablespoon caraway seed
Place everything in a crock pot and let 'er rip. I have found that it does need to be set on either 6 hours or 10 hours to cook properly. The pigs feet are done when they fall away from the bone. Watch out for pigs knuckles.

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.