A food day—and the State of the Union

 

My leftovers lunch

As a mystery reader and author, I loved July Hyzy’s White House Chef Mysteries One title in the series is particularly appropriate tonight: The State of the Onion. The title mixes food and politics, and that’s exactly how my day went.

The food part began at noon. Last night I served friend Kathie a dish of roasted sweet potato and spinach, seasoned with a bit of jalapeño juice and garnished with sliced scallions, crumbled feta, and more jalapenos if you wanted (I didn’t). But for lunch today, I had a bit of leftover herb-y chicken and potatoes from a sheet pan dinner, so I made a cup of bouillon, added the leftovers, and then added a good serving of the sweet potato and spinach dish. Best lunch I’ve had in forever. And I was proud of my use of leftovers.

Somewhere in the morning, I found out Christian had spent the night at his mom’s hospital beside in Grapevine, sitting—and trying to sleep—in a chair. And he’d spent half the night before in the same place. So I ask for prayers, please, for him, his mom, and his family. She is not critical but has several aging problems. He came home, showered, and went to work—no rest for the wicked.

Jordan and I went back and forth about what would best comfort him for supper. She wanted beef, because he’s a beef-and-potato man, but all I had on hand was ground beef (Jacob doesn’t like meatloaf or ground beef dishes and Christian is the one who does hamburgers for us, so that was out). I also had cube steaks, but they sounded like a lot of work in an uncertain evening. Jordan suggested tacos, but I nixed that, and suggested instead German potato salad with hot dogs—one of Christians’ favorite meals. So I rushed to make that, and of course, Christian was too tired to eat. I am not at all surprised that he fell asleep almost the minute he came home. Jordan, Jacob, and I had supper, and they took him a plate. I have no idea if he ate it or not, but Jordan came out about nine to say that he had to go back to the hospital because his sister couldn’t make it tonight. So my thoughts and prayers go with him.

The highlight of the day, for me, was President Biden’s State of the Union speech. I have not yet listened to any commentators about it, so this is just my opinion: I found it incredibly strong, energic, and full of optimism. That man has a vision of America moving forward. I did listen to about two minutes of Sarah Huckabee’s rebuttal before I turned it off, but the difference to me was that Biden is talking about the future while Huckabee—and others of her political ilk—are looking backward, trying to recapture an idyllic way of life that never was reality. But whites were in power, there were no gays (at least not talked about out loud), and kids were safe, happily playing in the streets. If you grew up in Chicago, as I did, you know that is the land that never was. I much prefer Biden’s realistic optimism for dealing with the problems that beset us—inflation, immigration, drugs, police brutality, and an unfortunately long list. As for those who quibble about his age, I thought he was remarkably strong and vital (he is two or three years younger than I am).

A big part of the fun of watching this annual address is seeing the individuals in the chambers when the camera pans on them. I suppose it’s de rigueur for the Republican leader to look bored and, sometimes, slightly amused. If that’s what the job requires, Kevin McCarthy did a great job. But he did more often than I expected rise to his feet. And the Republicans in the audience also rose more often than I remember from other speeches. Most Democrats of course cheered wildly at almost every sentence, but their obvious enthusiasm was happy medicine for me.

Occasional shots showed Republicans like Ted Cruz shaking their heads in pretend-obvious dismay, and a stone-faced Mitch McConnell—wish I could remember what the subject was that turned him to ice. Another time Marjorie Taylor Greene, with a remarkable display of bad taste, rose to her feet to shout at the president, contradicting the image she presented wrapped in something with a wide, white fur collar. And Lauren Boebbert, with too much makeup (okay, that’s catty of me), shook her head.

On the whole, Republicans did not come off looking well, and I sensed that Biden was carrying most of the crowd with him as he looked to the future of a stronger America. It may be that’s a standard reaction to the State of the Union, no matter who delivers it, but I don’t remember trump’s speeches that way. And of course, who can forget Nancy Pelosi’s sarcastic clap for trump and her ripping up his speech. Nothing that dramatic tonight, but, as a firm believer that for now Joe Biden is the best man for America, I was left with a strong sense of optimism.

You used to hear him called Uncle Joe, and to me that fits. He’s like a comforting uncle who tells you everything will be okay, if you just play along. I like that.

 

The Joy of Cooking

 

I forgot to take a picture of the meatloaf, and it was grand,
so this is me eating leftovers at ten o'clock at night. Still good. 

Where is Irma Rombauer when I want to talk with her and compare notes? The sum total of my accomplishments today: I made a meatloaf. Not just any meatloaf though. The old-fashioned kind with both pork and beef—my mom always combined the two in her meatloaf—and lots of vegetables—onion, carrot, celery, and parsley. It took me a good portion of the morning to put it together, but about halfway through rough-chopping carrots and onions and celery I realized that I was happier than I have been in days (my mind was off Ukraine). I also made my own breadcrumbs. Salt and pepper, Worcestershire, Pecorino, and marinara sauce went into the mixture before I hand-shaped it into a loaf. The marinara sauce was store bought because one can only do so much. The TV was on, but I wasn’t paying attention, lost in my own little world of vegetables. And when I got the meatloaf ready to cook, I felt an amazing sense of accomplishment, as if I’d just written a good blog.

This evening it will go in the oven to bake, and then I’ll slather it with more marinara sauce and mozzarella. It’s large—a pound and a half of beef and a pound of pork. We’ll be eating meatloaf all week, but that’s okay with me. Great lunches.

One thing I did not accomplish: voting. But Lord knows it wasn’t for lack of trying. If you’ve been following my saga, you know that it took me three applications to get the mail-in ballot that I usually get with one try. First, they lost it, then it wasn’t filled out properly (SB1 in Texas stuck in new requirements, in fine print, without alerting the public). When I finally did mail in my ballot, it was rejected because I didn’t put my social security number (last four digits) or my state identification number on the outside of the envelope—another of those fine-print, new requirements.

I am not overly concerned because I didn’t see any tight races that I felt strongly about on the Democratic ballot, and in some down-ballot races, I didn’t recognize any names. (If I’d have voted in the Republican primary I’d have had a long list of people to vote against!) But I am angry that the privilege of voting was deliberately taken from me (along with apparently thousands of other Texans). In a democracy, the goal should be to get as many people as possible to vote, not to eliminate as many as possible. Believe me, come November I am armed and ready for them. My vote will be counted.

My laugh for the day: if you’re on Facebook, you know that standard post with which men try to troll women. It begins something like, “It’s weird talking to someone you don’t know ….” and goes on to say how the writer is charmed by the woman’s appearance or humor or wisdom, but his efforts to friend her have been unsuccessful and could she please friend him. Today, the same man posted his identical message on comments made by not one but five of my friends, each on a different post but all on posts that originated with me (some were shares but all had my name on them). Disqualify that one because he has no brain. I’m never sure what such men are looking for, but I presume it’s lonely, wealthy widows (all five of my friends that he hit on are happily married). Since he posted on my wall, I took the liberty of deleting all of them—with some glee.

And a PS for the evening: The meatloaf was delicious. I did not slather it with as much marinara as the recipe called for, but we did top it with one cup and shredded mozzarella. Ran it under the broiler. Served it with a green salad with Paul Newman’s Own Vinaigrette and grated Pecorino. And fresh green beans cooked with just a bit of white wine and a pinch of sugar. Mom always told me sugar heightens the flavor of fresh vegetables. One of my better meals, if I do say so.

And yes, I watched the State of the Union message, found it powerful and strong, especially in the opening parts about Ukraine. I read today that Politico, that conservative voice, published that Joe Biden has done a masterful job of uniting the free world against Putin and that no one else could have done it as effectively. It is, they said, what his whole career has been building toward. Let’s hope this counters the conservative misinformation machine and raises his ratings.

I may not sleep any more soundly tonight, for I am very worried about President Zelensky and even more about his family. To think that Putin has put a price on their heads. I am aghast if that includes Mrs. Zelensky (is Madame Zelensky the proper address?), as it apparently does, and even more so if it includes their children. But I am reassured by Biden’s resolve and strength and the coalition he has built. I find this week as I go about my life that the Ukraine invasion is like a black cloud hovering over my head. Anyone remember Joe Bftsplk from Li’l Abner?

Good News and a long day

Saw the hip surgeon today. It’s been one year plus about ten days since my surgery. He’s pleased with my progress, calls me a star patient. Said the hip is strong, securely in place—no, I still can’t cross my legs in a ladylike manner, and I should never pull my foot back to put on a shoe. As for the walker, he said he can fix the hip, but he can’t fix the brain connection about balance to my leg. I’ve never had good balance in all my life, partly I think due to my phobias (open space is a biggie for phobics, and I always when possible walk next to a wall or railing or something to hang on to) and partly reminiscent of what my mother once said to me: “I wish I’d given you ballet lessons. They would have made you graceful.” Thanks, Mom. Anyway, he said given my poor balance, he wants me on the walker rather than falling again. He complimented the way I came down the hall to his examining room and suggested I put less and less hand pressure on the walker, until I get to the point I’m just barely resting my fingers on it. Oh, and I’m to take up exercises again which I got out of the habit of over Christmas and never got back into. I promise to be a good camper.

The big good news out of this: he thinks I’m doing well enough that he doesn’t want to see me for a year. When I said I was embarrassed because most hip patients walk so soon after surgery, he said to forget it. My hip problem was one of a kind, and I shouldn’t compare myself to others. Good advice about hips and a lot of life.

So tonight, I’m working, with the TV on mute while Mr. Trump makes a speech. With the sound off and glancing occasionally at his facial expressions, I think he’s almost coquettish. But all those people who jump to their feet in applause frustrate me. I of course find less to applaud with this man than previous presidents, but it’s always been an irritation. I’m keeping it on because I want to hear Joe Kennedy’s response. As for having to look at Pence and Ryan sitting behind the president, don’t even go there….

The Burtons have all gone to the rodeo tonight. Our annual family rodeo weekend kind of fell apart this year, so they went so that Jacob would get one night at the rodeo. I’ve worked, gotten a lot done, napped, and eaten smoked salmon for supper—how decadent. Sophie and I are enjoying our quiet evening at home. Well, at least I am, and I’m being bold enough to speak for her.

Eye surgery day after tomorrow, but then I’ll have all the major stuff behind me—knock on wood. Yes, I’m anxious about the eye business, but I keep telling myself it will be Friday before I know it and it will be over and done with. I’m not afraid of the surgery. I’m afraid of being anxious about being anxious. Three of my four children will be here, either for the surgery or sometime that day, so that’s a cheering thought.

In my list of things I’ve done and good things that have happened to me in yesterday’s post, I left out health matters. But tonight and always I am grateful for the health I have and the care I have gotten for major problems. I think back to just over a year ago and what pain I had from my hip, and I feel like a new person.

This “new” person is getting sleepy. Hope the orange man doesn’t go on too long and Joe Kennedy comes on soon. ‘Night all.

There’s nothing to say

I haven’t been a good blogger lately. My life seems humdrum, so I have nothing to say. That’s not a complaint—I enjoy a quiet life. But it seems all I’ve done is go to doctors and physical therapy, with an occasional trip to the grocery store thrown in. Not the stuff of riveting blogs. Today I went to physical therapy, and it absolutely wore me out—which I take is a good sign. Tonight I took two giggly, weird nine-year-old boys to dinner at the Old Neighborhood Grill. They elected to sit at the far end of the table, and I think the adults were most glad.

Maybe I’m just in a humdrum mood but I eagerly awaited the State of the Union address, rushed the boys through an earlier dinner than usual, and then found it less than riveting. It just didn’t live up to all the hype that had preceded it. Maybe it was because I only listened with half an ear.

Why do we think there has to be something exciting every day? Something blog worthy? Maybe it’s okay to go along quietly enjoying the days. Life can’t always be lived at the high peak. It’s just that I trapped myself into this blogging every day mode. So if I miss a day, please excuse me.

Tomorrow may be better. I have interesting lunch and dinner dates.