Sort of a lazy
Sunday. The kids didn’t make it in time to get ready for church but in the afternoon,
they took Jacob to the Water Gardens,
which he apparently enjoyed. Since we didn’t go to church, I “attended” via livestreaming
on my computer. The audio kept cutting out and then, just before the prayer,
cut completely. I gave up and went back to my book, but always with the nagging
sense I should be doing something else. I kept switching back to church—so frustrating
to watch the minister preach and not be able to know what he was saying. I
wished I was good at reading lips.
Finally, toward
the end of the sermon, I got out of the program, logged in again, and lo and
behold! There was sound! I backed it up, heard the whole sermon and the closing
portions of the service. It was a good message about trusting, not just having
faith, but trusting. Russ Peterman used the example of high wire artists—an apt
one. But I thought the message was particularly timely in these difficult days
in our country.
Computer work, reading,
and stuff until it was time to cook dinner. Of course, I experimented, and I
did it with an unreasonable conviction Christian wouldn’t like the dinner. He
loved it! I made steak haiche au poivre—a French, dressed-up version of chopped
steak that is supposed to make you think you’re eating steak when all you can
afford is ground sirloin. The meat had butter, onion, Parmesan, egg, salt, and finely
diced mushrooms in it. Christian does not eat mushrooms, but I figured they
would never be detected, and they do keep the meat moist. First thing he said
was, “How do you keep the patties so moist? When I do them in the skillet, they’re
always dry.” So I confessed.
The recipe calls
for using dried porcini, which I didn’t, and for making porcini butter of some
of the mushrooms plus the soaking liquid. I sautéed the leftover mushrooms for
Jordan and me. Then you top the patties with a salsa verde—onions soaked in red
wine vinegar, chopped capers, a bit of salt, a lot of chopped parsley (forgot
to buy it and used dried, but, reconstituted, it was pretty good).
You can see I
played with the recipe a lot, but what I discovered is that it is not a
suitable recipe for a tiny kitchen. I had to send the green beans in for Christian
to cook in the house. Even so I had to juggle cooking the meat patties, sautéing
the mushrooms, and making the hot salsa. I had done the mushrooms ahead—I’m a
big “do what you can ahead” kind of cook. But still I cooked the meat, put it
in the toaster oven to stay warm, and started the salsa. I know better than
that—if I use the hot plate and the toaster at the same time it blows a fuse.
One very frustrated Jordan because I can’t make it out behind the cottage to
flip the breaker.
Meanwhile
Christian was making green beans. I had pre-boiled them, so all he had to do
was sauté the shallot I had chopped in butter, add the green beans, and dress
with a splash of lemon. And bring it out to the cottage.
All very good
but too complicated for a gourmet on a hot plate. Not going in the cookbook,
but Christian liked it so well he took the recipe inside. We did linger after
dinner—at least Christian and I did, talking about food, immigration, and fence
repair. A thoroughly lovely evening. And I hate to say this, but I was glad
Jacob was out with friends—he’d have hated the dinner.
Tomorrow?
Terrific leftovers. I love cold meat patties.
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