Morning in the kitchen, afternoon with Bonanza

Spent the whole morning in the kitchen today and couldn’t help reflecting on the days when I casually cooked a meal for fifteen or twenty. Today it took all morning to fix a dinner for one—and it isn’t cooked yet, just prepped. And I have to say it’s not a complicated meal—lamb burgers with tzatziki sauce and some steamed vegetables.

But I wasn’t cooking the entire time. It took me a while to deal with the exploding ice maker in my freezer door. As I fixed a glass of ice water for the bedside table last night, it jammed so I just settled for less ice and more water and went on to bed. But this morning I opened the door and ice exploded all over the kitchen. And it was frozen into a solid lump in the chute that releases it. Every time I tried to push on that lump, it activated the water spigot and water poured out everywhere. On my lovely hardwood floor. I spent a lot of time mopping, ran for a towel (as much as you can run in a Rollator), swept up ice cubes, went back to mopping. Finally unstopped the icemaker, though I’m afraid to try it again.

I’m slow in the kitchen anyway. Not to whine, but it’s a whole different perspective to cook from a Rollator. Granted sometimes I can stand to get that oomph I need—the right angle on the lemon press or can opener for instance. But I’m not yet brave enough (or balanced enough) to take those two steps from work surface to cooking area or to sink. So chopping onion and parsley for the burgers, defrosting bread (no microwave—I just wait for it to air defrost) for crumbs, etc. took me a while. But I have four great burgers, will probably freeze three. The tzatziki didn’t take as long, and it smells so good.

Last night I made a tuna spread—possible happy hour guests today, though that didn’t work out. Anyway, I’m not sure I’m happy with it. I omitted the black olives, because I don’t like them, but that can’t be the problem. I may try more lemon and a little salt, but not tonight. I’m saving my appetite for that dinner. If a recipe isn’t quite right, it goes back in the folder for more experimentation or else is discarded. I won’t put anything in my someday cookbook that hasn’t worked out for me in the kitchen.

Got hooked on one of those links from Facebook about Bonanza. It purported to tell all the secrets Dan Blocker kept from the public. Of course, it didn’t, but it was an endless if interesting series of facts about the main actors and the show. I was hooked because a good family friend, now long gone but once my oldest son’s godmother, was Dan Blocker’s theater coach in college in Alpine, Texas. She was devastated when he died, and my then-husband drove her to East Texas for the funeral. If I recall, it was private and neither of them were admitted.

Another link to the show. At a Western Writers convention in Carson City, NV we met David Dortort, producer. He and my Jewish husband (that was their link) struck up a friendship. One evening, David called from his room—a glass had broken in his mouth (never did figure that one out), and his tongue was bleeding. Joel went to the room while my brother, sister-in-law and I waited to hear what he’d do. When he returned, he said, “I put toilet paper on it,” and my brother commented, “So glad we sent him to medical school.” Dortort, who is probably gone now, sent me a script to use as a model, and I submitted a script for Little House on the Prairie. His rejection was kind and helpful—it dealt with extraneous characters and not the focus family. Good learning experience.

Anyway, all that probably explains why I spent a nostalgic chunk of the afternoon with Hoss and Lorne Greene and Michael Landon and, yes, even renegade Pernell Roberts, whom my kids once accused me of having a crush on—when he was in M*A*S*H or a related show.