Jordan hard at work in Costa Rica |
Fort Worth has enjoyed a lovely, rainy, dreary weekend, although I admit the temperatures are a bit cool for my taste. But I’ve enjoyed every minute, doing the things I love to do—writing, reading, and cooking. Lots of the latter, and some experiments I’m proud of.
Last
night, friends came for happy hour, one of whom needs to eat carbs on time
because of diabetes. So I was concerned to have something with bread. With my
order from Central Market, I included a small jar of dipping spices. When the
order came, they had removed that—apparently, they no longer had it. But my
whole appetizer plan was based on those spices! I was going to put out
individual dipping dishes (actually some lovely china coasters), a small
pitcher of olive oil, a dish of Pecorino, and the spices. Somehow, cheese and oil
didn’t do it by themselves. So I went online—often my savior—and found a recipe
for making your own spices. I had almost all of them on hand, and I just left
out the two I didn’t have—dried parsley and dried rosemary. There were so many
other spices, it was just fine. In fact, really good. I also left out the fresh
garlic, because everything else was dried. I served it with a sliced baguette from
Central Market. I’m not sure anyone else was as enthusiastic as I was, but I
thought it was great. I also put out a crock of pub cheese from Trader Joe’s,
which I thought was sharp and good. As you can tell, I was pleased with myself.
And
last night after everyone was gone, I fed Christian and Jacob British baked potatoes—more
about that another time. But we loaded
them with bacon (yes, real bacon, chopped), green onions, grated cheddar, sour cream,
salt and pepper and called that supper. So good.
smoked salmon appetzier |
everything would have rolled off. The salmon on top kept It in place.
For the main course: white bean soup, a new-to-me recipe for which I followed every step religiously. Well, almost—I did fudge a bit on the red pepper (and it was fine, not at all noticeable), and I wish I had not put quite so much chicken broth in it, but it was good. When I told her what the garnish is she balked a bit but then declared the garnish made the soup. It was pickled celery, with the celery minced. Pickling it was easy, and we both agreed it would not have been as good an accent if it were not pickled. I will admit the soup was a bit complicated and I used every pot and pan in my kitchen--and I don't have a dishwasher.
Kitchen sink after cooking |
And my
cooking weekend is not over. Tomorrow night, I have committed to fix schnitzel
for the boys and me. Jordan will be home for Costa Rica but not until later in
the evening. I’ll do roast potatoes and Christian will do Brussel sprouts. And
Monday, when supper will be hamburgers on the porch, so we can be ready for
trick or treaters, I’ll contribute a green bean salad. I’m a bit intimidated by
the schnitzel, though I have an “easy” recipe. But the green bean salad is a
snap (no pun intended).
First
thing every morning, with my hot tea, I read emails, and that was the closest I
came to work today. I read both for messages from friends and for news reports,
though I recognize you have to be careful about what you accept as truth.
Still, even on a lazy Saturday, that’s part of my day, and a part I enjoy
because it keeps me in touch with the world. I am not these days reading the
emails of hysteria from various Democratic campaigns. If one more person
assures me they’re packing it up and going home, I will scream. We know that
Mark Kelly and Val Demings and John Fetterman and others are not giving up ten
days before the election. I know it’s a fundraising technique, but I think it’s
a poor one, as likely to turn away undecided contributors as to convince them.
Reading
rounds out my day, and today I’m lingering over Big Shot, the latest in
Julie Mulhern’s Country Club Murders series. It’s a spoof on the eighties
upscale, country club life as seen in Kansas City, Mo. It tickled me last week
when our minister announced that our visiting preacher was from Country Club
Church in Kansas City. Sometimes fiction hits close to home.
So now I’m going to read, but I leave you with a funny picture that popped up on my computer today. Two transported Texas middle-aged ladies comparing their turquoise What could be more of a stereotype?
Texas Literary Hall of Fame, 2010 |
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