A cookbook, a funny luncheon, and a doggie spa day

 

I was thrilled today to get copies of Kitchen Table Stories II, a publication of Story Network Circle. It’s a compilation of recipes contributed by various SCN members, each with the backstory of the recipe. And it’s those stories that distinguish this book.

Many of the stores recall childhood memories, grandmothers who cooked treasured recipes from other lands, mothers who invented frugal dishes, and mothers who didn’t cook at all. As Gretchen Staebler writes, “We pass on what we know. From one generation to the other, we want to share the best of what we knew growing up.”

The collection is remarkable for its cultural diversity—pierogi from a childhood in Chicago’s Polish community; mamaliga—Romanian polenta; latkes for Hannukah; Hungarian baked cauliflower; arroz frijole negro—and the memory of sorting beans; a Piranha dinner from Peru—and instructions for careful handling of the flesh-eating fish; miners’ pasties from Pennsylvania; a special barbecue sauce from a joint in Muskegon; sanguinaccio or Italian chocolate pudding; even the much-maligned beef (dried) on toast is tempting when it’s a childhood memory. The stories made me laugh and cry. Gretchen Staebler remembers eating Boston baked beans while sitting on the living room floor. Did her mother really let them do that? She doesn’t want to know the truth. You can hear Erin Philbin laugh about sloppy Joe with “salad” in it—not known for her cooking skills (her husband usually did the cooking), she had added chopped celery and her young son said indignantly, “Why did you put salad in it? We don’t like salad.” I wanted to comment, question, talk back as I read.

Hats off to Susan Schoch who edited and Sherry Wachter who designed. And guess who wrote the Foreword? Yep, yours truly. You got just an excerpt of my foreword in the above paragraphs. Some of my family are getting this for Christmas—shhh! Don’t tell them.

Kitchen Table Stories II is available from Amazon.

Yesterday I had lunch with an old friend, really the brother of an old friend who is now gone. He is living alone in a high-rise retirement community, and Jean and I were his guests at lunch. Alex, troubled by pretty severe hearing and vision challenges, had his sense of humor about him, and we laughed so loud I was afraid the few others in the almost-empty dining room would stare at us. It seems there has been a mystery car parked in Alex’s slot for some time and repeated calls to the administration have not been successful. Alex’s daughter uses the spot when she comes to visit. So yesterday, he confided he was quite sure there was a body in the car. I told him he was encroaching on my territory as a mystery writer. Today, he emailed that the car had been towed, but there was no word about the body, and he was now convinced that it was a cover-up for a cryptocurrency mining operation in the parking garage (he was not serious about any of this). I am threatening to get him a dictation device so he can write his mystery by dictation. I thought the addition of the cryptocurrency was genius.

Sophie had a spa day today. Nathan, the groomer we all think is so great, came t the house at three (right in the middle of my nap time!). I think Sophie is psychic—about ten minutes before he got here, she began to bark occasionally, the bark that says “Someone is here.” I asked Nathan if he’d been parked on the street for ten minutes or so, but he said not. I have no idea how Sophie knew he was on his way, but she did. And tonight she is fluffy and clean, her coat as soft as a baby blanket. With a thick layer of leaves on the patio, it won’t take long for her to get dirt and twigs and leaves in that soft, clean fur. But I do believe dogs have psychic powers beyond our understanding.

Looking forward to a nice weekend, with company for supper Saturday and Sunday. Last night, Jordan made rice bowls with black beans (which I just read have great health benefits), chicken, and fresh vegetables. Tonight I made what looked like a huge pot of white bean chicken chili—the three of us ate it, with maybe enough left over for one serving.

Oops. In my zeal to make crab bites late at night, I just nudged a container of cherry tomatoes off the counter. As you can imagine, they rolled everywhere and my only option was to sweep them up, which rendered them inedible and headed for the garbage. I think it’s time for me to get out of the kitchen! And maybe off to bed.