Searching for a recipe, PT, and a celebratory supper

 

I can’t believe I really did this, but I scrolled through the entire page of the New York Times Cooking Community Facebook page looking for a specific recipe. The backstory: we debate every year what to do about Easter so that I get a celebratory meal with the family and they also get to Coppell to see Christian’s family. Brunch or dinner? If we do dinner and they want a roast or leg of lamb, I’m out of it because I can’t do those in my toaster oven. Brunch is okay, but hey, they have scrambled eggs and bacon every Sunday. Quiche? Maybe. I did find a biscuit recipe called Butter Swim Biscuits—who could resist?

Then I found a recipe I thought perfect—pork tenderloin cooked in a slow cooker and a sauce of soy/sesame. Supposedly makes rich gravy. That I could do while the Burtons go to Coppell and I get a Sunday nap. But when I looked for it, I couldn’t find the recipe, although I was sure I saved it. So I scrolled through that long page—took me a while and gave me several other ideas, but I tried to stay focused. No luck. Then I paged, recipe by recipe, through the appalling collection that I want to try one day—and there, near the bottom of the pile, was what I was looking for. Now to sell it to the family.

Perhaps you’ve heard that the NYTimes is “ditching” its Cooking Community Facebook page. That’s not quite the whole story, though there’s been a lot of flap and snark about it. The official word is that they want to replace NYTimes moderators with qualified volunteer moderators, with the goal of eventually turning the page over to the members. I can see the Times point—in one year, the page went from 8,000 subscribers to 77,000, and the Times found it was not driving subscriptions to the paper. So they were paying moderators and not getting a return.

Besides that, an unbelievable number of people were downright unpleasant—some wanted straight recipes, others enjoyed (as I do) the story behind the recipes. They sniped at each other. And there were lots of off-topic posts and, inevitably, some political posts which were absolutely out of place. Now people are busily accusing the Times of abandoning us and are fishing for new names for the page. Me? I just want everyone to play nicely. I really like the page, and I think those who cry “Foul!” are jumping to negative conclusions. This is an ongoing story—we’ll see what happens. No firm date has been set for the big shift, though many talk as though it is tomorrow.

Cooking aside for a minute, I met with the PT person today, and he turned out to be the one who had worked with me five years ago before I had hip surgery. We had a mini-reunion, though I did remind him he had thought I was lazy. He denied that and said he knew I was in pain. But he was the one who insisted I should have an x-ray, so he did a really good thing. Today we moved on to the present and agreed that walking unassisted is not my goal—but increasing my stamina is. Dan gave me an assignment and said we can work on such things as walking slowly and taking deep breaths as I walk. Did you know many people hold their breath, unconsciously, when they exercise?

Tonight Jordan’s girlfriends are taking her for a belated birthday dinner at the Japanese Palace (now that makes me jealous!), and I will have a solitary but splendid dinner. I had to go on another search, but I found the lone loin lamb (say that fast!) chop in the freezer and will cook it with anchovy butter—because I have anchovies left from last night’s salmon. Asparagus with Aunt Reva’s good sour cream sauce, and a bit of leftover vinegar potato salad Jordan made the other night. Sometimes a solitary meal can be a celebration.

I was going to post a lovely picture of my solitary, celebratory dinner--until I flipped most of the asparagus onto the floor. Sophie did a good clean-up job--she isn't crazy about asparagus but sure liked the sour cream topping. Christian happened along just in time to finish the clean-up and point out that I had also showered Soph with a spray of sour cream. Not the evening I envisioned.

Excuse me, I have to go walk the small, circular route in my cottage three times—about sixty feet—and practice breathing. Take care in the storms tonight. Right now I hear thunder in the distance every once in a while, but mostly there's that eerie, still silence that often precedes a storm. Take care.