A day in the life of ....

Wow! Today was a hectic, confusing, happy, noisy day with lots of fun and a problem. I spent the morning doing all those good things--watering plants, yoga, etc.--but since Colin, my oldest, didn't expect to arrive from Houston until noon I made German potato salad for tomorrow night and stuck it in the fridge. Just before noon, I pulled into Jordan's driveway--right behind Colin.
After a while Jamie arrived with Edie and we had a lovely time laughing and visiting, eating dips and tacos, and being the family that we are. But my nap was calling me, and I started to leave--until Jordan discovered a bubble on my passenger side front tire. She called Colin who said I could not even drive it home. So he, wonderful son that he is, took the spare to be aired up and then changed it, with help from his brother who arrived at just the right--or from his perspective, the wrong--time. I have great sons. Said my goodbyes once again and came home, caught up on a few details and crashed--slept soundly.
Tonight was Arts Goggle in Fairmount, and since I anticipated parking problems, Colin drove me. I was to sign books at State Representative Lon Burnam's office. With all the art displays and restaurants and attractions, I wondered how many people would go to a political office. Lon's wife, my good friend Carol, had put together an exhibit of historic photographs and had several books, not just mine, with authors present for signing. Oh, and food and wine. A steady stream of people filed through the office, and I sold enough books to make the evening worthwhile. In fact, Colin had to bring me more books. A successful evening.
I missed going to the trunk show at Urban Yoga where Elizabeth's friend from India, Uschi, had a display of the colorful tops she makes (I was wearing one tonight)--a big disappointment, but Elizabeth promised to bring some home for me to have my own private showing.
Now, everyone's gone except Colin and his six-year-old, Kegan, who are spending the night. Jacob is here tonight too to be with his cousin, and the three of them are watching a vampire movie. Such a joy to have at least one child and two grandchildren under my roof. Make me a happy camper. After this day, I'm tired but happy and counting my blessings.

Learning about myself

I think I have learned something about myself as a writer. It's about time, after almost forty years. But last night, when I bemoaned having written only one sentence for the day, I went on to reach about 1200 words for my day's total. Not record-breaking, but respectable, especially when I remember the beloved history prof who used to say “A page a day (250 words in the day when we used the Courier font) is a book a year.” No, 1200 words is respectable. But I wrote those when everyone was gone, and the house was quiet.

Today went by in what kind of flurry I don’t know. I spent almost two hours on the phone with various tech people, sorting out what was wrong with my printer—all the color prints came out yellow. After all that time and a lot of self-testing of the printer, I was told I need new color cartridges. Usually the printer warns you, “Magenta ink low,” and such. But it said nothing this time. So tomorrow I buy cartridges and await a follow-up call from Hewlett Packard. To be fair, both HP and Staples were courteous to a fault, and I was grateful for their help—it just seemed silly to come up with such a simple, obvious solution after all that folderol. The rest of the day was absorbed in fixing dinner for company tonight—Jacob’s friend Max and his grandparents plus Jacob’s parents—and in a pleasant lunch with a longtime colleague from TCU. And, yes, a nap. So I told myself when everyone left tonight, I would write. This would be my new schedule: at night, writing my thousand words would be my priority, above blogging, Facebook, reading, all of that.

But after the company left, Elizabeth wandered in and Jordan, who was about to tackle the dishes, wanted to sit, have another glass of wine, and visit. So the evening wore away, and then I found myself, as I so often do, in the kitchen doing dishes. Actually it’s never a chore—she had stacked them—and it doesn’t take long. But the goal of writing began to fade.

Still I came to my office about 8:45 and started to write—and pretty soon I had doubled that 1200 words. I know not all of it is golden, and I’ll re-read and wonder where my head was. But I’m getting words and ideas on paper. And to my mind it’s a pretty good start on January 3 for a new novel.

So maybe I’ll try a new routine: I’ll blog, take care of business—personal finances, marketing, etc.—during the day and write at night when the house is quiet. I’m not making resolutions this year, so I’m not putting this in that form. It’s just an experiment I want to try. We’ll see.

 

A cooking weekend

Seems like I spent most of the weekend cooking--and I can't think of a better way to spend a weekend. Friday night, with two little boys for supper, I fixed hot dogs, canned corn, and potato chips (okay, that's not really cooking)--neither boy ate well, and it turned out that both had slight colds. By the next morning, Jacob was really sick but that's another story.
After Max went home and Jacob was settled I made peanut butter cookies, the old recipe that my mom handed down--gosh but they smell wonderful fresh out of the oven. And made myself salmon cakes for supper--have enjoyed them all weekend and am sad to say I was piggy enough to eat two for lunch today so they're all gone.
Saturday's big project was coq au vin made the old-fashioned way, so that it simmers a long time in the sauce. There's much reduction of sauces involved--something that my impatience usually makes difficult, but I did it right this time. One of the tedious things about this dish was chopping--carrots, celery, onions and eventualy mushrooms. But I got it all together, cooked it and put it in the fridge.
This morning I woke with the jitters--can't explain it, but I was just plain anxious. Cooking is often a good antidote, so after I talked to Jordan, found out Jacob had a 102 fever, and they weren't going to church, I finished off the coq au vin. Fished the chicken out, sauteed the mushrooms, reduced the sauce once again and put it all back together. And then back in the fridge. Spent the rest of the morning wrapping Christmas gifts. I'm way ahead of the game--not unusual for me.
Tonight, Jordan and Christian came with Jacob--now 102.9, though medicine took it down and he felt okay but not great. Did eat dinner with us, and Elizabeth came in from her yoga classes in time for supper. Chicken was so tender it fell off the bone--one piece (I had used thighs) literally did fall apart and got lost in the sauce, which was rich and good the way only a sauce cooked for hours can be. It was also chock full of  veggies--carrots, celery, onion and mushrooms. Christian of course wanted nothing to do with the veggies but the rest of us loved them.
My neighbors put new flickering white lights on the arbor outside my dining room window, and we lit the Christmas lights inside the house for the first time this season. I used my red-and-green plaid china, and we felt festive. Lovely evening--so nice to have family around and so nice to have Elizabeth as part of the family. Counting my blessings once again.
Tomorrow is a babysitting day, though he requires little attention. I shudder to admit I'll park him in front of the TV, but his parents will bring some movies, and maybe we'll do a puzzle or two, but, please Lord, not Spiderman again! Jacob can't go back to school until he's been fever-free for 24 hours.

Taking a Break

Houseguests arrive tomorrow. I have been anticipating their visit for weeks.They are friends who date back to the early sixties, though the story of our friendship is too long to recount here. Needless to say they are among those I really value. I'll have the joy of sitting on the porch, drinking wine, and visiting about life and its vagaries. Equally important, they are giving me a chance to put my busy life on hold--no speaking engagements, no work on the novel (who can concentrate?), not even much thought to Christmas preparations, which is a direction my mind took tonight. Much as I love my busy life--this is retirement?--I'm putting it on hold until (oops--that's one of Jacob's spelling words this week!) Tuesday--and really looking forward to it.
Today I went to the grocery; tomorrow I'll cook--an overnight salad that I figure I can make first thing in the morning, put it in the fridge, and convince it it's been there overnight. Cheeseburger soup--nope, never tried it but it sounds delicious and not really too fattening except for the Velveeta. I'll play with proportions. And Palmetto cheese biscuits to have ready for breakfast the next morning.
After that my main cooking will be breakfast dishes and I love it--I have all these scrumptious sounding breakfast recipes and no one to try them on, so I'll fix potato nests with eggs and bacon, Welsh rarebit (oh, that's a story in itself) made with stout, and maybe a spinach/cheese souffle. My own mouth is watering, and I hope theirs will be.
We have no agenda for the weekend beyond two trips to the ranch to see my brother. Martha had fallen sometime back, and my brother, ever the concerned osteopathic physician par excellence, wants to check her out and probably see her twice. Friday's trip will be early, so I can be back to pick up Jacob. Don't know which day we'll go again. Mostly, we'll do nothing. Can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to that.

My surreal day

What an odd day. Mondays are always long and hard for me, because I rarely have anything on my calendar--just a desk full of work. So I stay home, alone except for Sophie, with my face in the computer screen. I'm a person who thrives on other people, so much as I love working I like the break of lunch or dinner with a friend, even errands.
This morning I dallied--email, Facebook, a couple of blogs, anything to put off working. Then I did my yoga routine, made the bed, tidied the kitchen (which doesn't get messy with one person eating cottage cheese--one small dish, one coffee cup) and marched into the office. Don't get me wrong--I get wrapped up in what I'm writing and carried away with it and time passes, in spite of the late-morning grumbling of my stomach which would prefer lunch at, say, ten-thirty. At eleven-thirty I fixed my lunch, did some household stuff, and went back to the desk.
It wasn't as though I was without human companionship all day. By three I had Jacob in hand, and at his insistence we reworked two puzzles we'd already done. He is good with spatial relationships--whizzes through his math homework, and that trait shows in working the puzzles. Granted, we'd already done both of them, but he was off on his own, putting things together. I'm afraid he still doesn't get the straight edge concept--he prefers to work by picture, choosing today to begin with the zebra in the jungle scene. He also doesn't quite understand about looking to see if not only pieces but the picture fits. But he put a lot together and was delighted with himself, crowing, "I am so good!"
As he was leaving with his dad for a baseball game, Elizabeth came in for supper. I'd experimented and made her a gluten-free meat loaf, substituting potato flakes (long in the cupboard, purchased for one recipe, and then left for me to wonder what to do with them) for bread crumbs, threw in an egg plus some tapioca to bind it (a trick my mom taught me) and seasoned it with red wine and thyme. We agreed it was pretty darn good. A bit salty.
But al the time I was doing all this I had the subconsciious feeling that I was dealing with my long day alone--and that's what made my day surreal. It was like there were two of me--one functioning on one level and another struggling to function on a different level.
Sophie however continues to be a joy and a source of amusement, though today I had a fright. I know full well she will bolt out the front door if she gets a chance, and I'm paranoid about someone opening the door when she has the run of the house. Today, after lunch, I brought her in, put the leash on her so I could catch her for our nap, and headed back to my office. Saw the postal carrier coming up the walk and threw open the door in a neighborly gesture forgetting all about the dog--Sophie darted between my legs but fortunately she didn't want to go any farther than to greet the woman, and I was able to step on her leash. The lady was nice about it, even the jumping, and we had a chat about Bordoodles.
Sophie's newest trick: when I open the back door and ask if she wants to come in, she simply stares at me. So I say, "Okay, bye," and close the door--and she bolts for it. At sixteen months, she's still ornery, msichievous puppy.

Th value of trivia in blogs

A friend wrote me today, apparently after having read by blog last night. She said she enjoys  the informal blogs she follows, those that give a sense of people's daily lives. When she used to read newspaper columns, she felt she was being lectured to. Well that's all the encouragement I needed, so here goes a trivia, "what I did today" blog.
By three this afternoon, I had gotten my household running including watering porch plants--I think I am drowning two planters of cactus and vow to ignore them. I had been to the grocery and put away what I bought, created a kitchen garden, made ham salad, done my yoga, and written 2,000 words on the current novel. Yes, I  deserved a nap--and had a good one.
Elizabeth, my long-time friend, once student and now yoga guru, came for supper since her husband is at Comic Con in San Diego. I promised her eggs and bacon--instead I froze the bacon, and we had a green salad with lime/cilantro dressing and scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, diced tomatoes, and chopped scallions--with white wine, of course. She brought some delicious mocha-chocolate morsels made with coconut oil--and the coconut taste was pronounced. So good! We had a good visit talking about everything from the effect of attitude on health to a cat that is peeing on her bed. Didn't solve the world's problems, but as she said, "We could, if anyone would listen to us." As she left, she said, "It's never just bacon and eggs at your house."
I've thought a lot about the way parents schedule children this weekend. Jordan is out of town on business (Jamaica, poor girl) so Christian is the single parent, and Jacob had a busy social schedule. What ended up being a play date last night, a birthday party this afternoon, and a play date from 6:30 to 8:30 this evening. Tomorrow he has a birthday party at 11:00--don't know what those parents were thinking. That's church time. Since Christian won't be meeting me at church, I'm going to stay home and pickle some veggies--but I'll go to church via the radio. But poor Christian--not a moment to call his own. I'm of the school that kids should be left on their own, and that's what I often do with Jacob. Problem is, when left on his own, he plants himself in front of the TV. I'm seriously thinking of rationing it. It's not a problem this summer, because he's not here much. But in the fall when school starts and he's here every afternoon, I'm going to make some rules. Hmmm--haven't thought of what the rules are though.
Meanwhile Christian is going to bring us supper from Maid-Rite tomorrow night. Looking forward to that pork tenderloin sandwich.
Now I'm going back to the book I"m reading: Jack 1939. It's based on the fictional premise that FDR made a young JFK his spy in Europe as Hitler was trying to buy the U.S. election and defeat FDR.  JFK had a diplomatic passport because his father was Ambassador to England--and a Hitler sympathizer. Wish I knew more about the history of the era so I could tell if this is far-fetched or not.

Summer Pleasures

One of my summer pleasures is driving home from my daughter's just before dark. It's about a twenty-minute drive, and I put the top down and blast out the Alex Beaton tape (see how old-fashioned I am? No CD player in my car!) of Scottish ballads. I go back  roads, through residential districts shaded by trees and then through the park. Lovely. No hat--don't care what my hair looks like.
Jordan has instituted a new tradition for the summer--Friday night potluck. Tonight between fifteen and twenty people in their late thirties and early forties--and me. I've known some of them since they were in high school, and I am so blessed that they always seem glad to see me, hug me, and start conversations. We talk about books, dogs, jobs, whatever. Pure pleasure. And the food is good.
Now I'm home, looking forward to spending much of tomorrow cooking. I seem to have an overcooking problem lately. I was to make Italian/cheese pinwheels (out of crescent rolls) for tonight--somehow I made them smaller than the directions but cooked them the same amount of time. They tasted okay but sure were crisp. I added a round loaf of Parmesan bread, which Rob told me was great--Rob is one I've known forever and he now works with Jamie.
Today I tried to make a curry sauce for a complicated chicken salad recipe I'll make tomorrow--and burned it. I've never been good at reduction sauces, I think becuase my patience quota is low, and this one has apricot jam in it, so in the process of reducing it, I scorched it. Threw it out and made it again late this afternoon, paying much closer attention to it while it reduced--at a lower heat.
Went to pick Jacob up at day camp midway through the sauce preparation--and he announced he didn't like the smell. I thought it was the curry sauce--which does linger even tonight when I came home. But it seems he thinks my car smells bad--we won't go into his description of the bad smell. 'Nough said.
I'm reading Susan Schreyer's Bushwhacked and ready to get back to it. Susan is one of my heroes--she got tired of the agent/traditional pubishing game and became a self-publisher. This is her fourth mystery, and I'm captivated by her characters and plots. We hear complaints all the time about the poor quality of unjuried self-publishing with no gatekeepr. Susan stands out as a shining example of the best of the new opportunities for writers.

Stuff

A lot of the time when I write to one of my kids, the subject line is stuff, which means it's a mish-mash, and that's what this is. I spent a lazy but productive Saturday--finished the galleys for the third Kelly O'Connell Mystery, Trouble in a Big Box (I simply cannot type that without typing Bix instead of Big!). Did my yoga, feeling more relaxed than usual--I'd just had a good nap and had no rush to be anywhere or do anything--which is usually my feeling when I do yoga. And I cooked--made a tomato/cheddar pie with some difficulty with the crust--still not sure how it will turn out, but the recipe said let it set for 3-4 hours, so I decided to let it set overnight. I'll serve it tomorrow, along with the overnight salad I made just now. And I made myself ham salad for lunch: my new trick is to buy a half-inch thick slice of good ham, whirl it in the blender, add chopped celery and scallions, mustard and mayo. It's lunch for three days at least; then I'll switch to tuna.
Speaking of food, I realized today that not all of you who read my blog are on Facebook and therefore you miss my postings of "Potluck with Judy" when I post on the food blog instead of this one. So I'm starting a new policy: from now on, I'll post on Potluck on Sunday evenings. Maybe that will make me more disciplined--it's been kind of haphazard. Tomorrow's post is already half written--some terrific, easy appetizers. The URL is http://potluckwithjudy.blogspot.com if you want to check it out tomorrow night.
If you're Amazon buyers, here's something you may not realize: if you read a book and like it, it's a big help to the author if you click the "Like" button right by the title. And it's a huge help if you write a short review, just two or three sentences. Yes, this is a plea for reviews for No Neighborhood for Old Women--it hasn't gotten any yet, but many people have told me they like it. I need to share those opinions with the world. I have a dear friend who congratulated me when Skeleton in a Dead Space came out but explained, "You know, I don't read mysteries." For reasons of my own I gave her a copy of No Neighborhood for Old Women, and she tells me she loved it, couldn't wait to get back to it when she had to put it down. She's even speculating on what will happen in the third book and calls herself a "new fan of your mystery-writing." Not everyone is going to be so enthusiastic, so if you found flaws say so, but I'd sure appreciate a few reviews. And remember this when you read books by other authors--heck, even if you didn't buy it on Amazon, you can go on there and click "Like" and leave a review if you feel so inclined.
Every day I learn more and more about the mystery business, but  it's still an uphill climb. Thanks for your help.

Politics, potato salad, and a beautiful memorial service

Jordan, my former neighbor and Canadian daughter, Sue, and I went to Susan's mother's memorial service this morning. It was one of the loveliest services I've ever been to, each component carefully chosen. The congregation sang, "How Great Thou Art" and 'Here am I," both favorites of mine. the string quartet carried each of us away into private meditation; the eulogies were moving and made me wish oh so much I'd known Kay Halbower in her heyday; and the Twenty-third Psalm brought tears, as it always can in such a situation; our minister delivered a moving but very celebratory message, stressing that Kay was charming, caring, and unconventional. I see all those traits in her daughter, my friend Susan. I told Jordan to take notes for my funeral, and she said to put them in my file. When I complimented Larry, the minister, I said it was just what I wanted my funeral to be and after thanking me, he said, "Don't be in a hurry." I'm not, but I was truly moved by that service this morning.
From that emotional topic, on to politics. There's a Facebook page called Dogs Against Romney, all built around that infamous time when Governor Romney drove his family to Minnesota or Michigan or some far place, with the family dog in a crate on the roof. The idea outrages animal lovers, as it should, but I long ago decided I don't need to see pictures every day of dogs who ride inside. A friend who did not know of the site, said, "Now that's absolutely silly," when I told him about it. But couple that with the stories of Romney's bullying tactics in high school and I truly begin to think he's not the kind of man I want to lead our country. Romney denied the stories, then admitted maybe some of his pranks got out of hand--we'll never know the truth but I just heard the family of the "victim" said the story was distorted and they were angry it was used for political purposes. But there's that old saying that you can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats his dog. Those of you that know me, know I wasn't going to vote for him anyway. These are just idle speculations.
And finally potato salad--I've labored in the kitchen a lot this week, and today I made a huge batch of potato salad for our family reunion tomorrow. What bothers me--really bothers my back--about making potato salad is all the standing and chopping, but I did it in stages today. Peeled and diced the already cooked, cold potatoes and then sat at my desk for a bit; then the celery and another break; finally pulsed the onions in the food processor. There are a couple of dilemmas here--one is that my mom taught me you should peel hot potatoes and pour some kind of vinaigrette on them while they're hot and will soak it up; the recipe I use calls for cold potatoes and, trust me, it is so much eaiser! Sorry, Mom.
The other dilemma has to do with food safety. We will drive at least an hour to get to the ranch tomorrow, and I began to have doubts about unrefrigerated potato salad. Besides, it has a lot of sour cream in it, and I think it gets watery pretty quickly. I talked to Cindy, my sister-in-law, and she thought I should make it tonight to let the flavors blend. Compromise: I've put on all the dry seasonings--salt, coarse pepper (lots of it!), celery and garlic salt and dill pickle relish. I'll put the mayo and sour cream in a refrigerator container and mix it all up when I get there. The recipe I use is from a barbecue restaurant in Austin and San Antonio so I don't feel free to repeat it, but if you want you might search Google for County Line Potato Salad. Like the casserole I made the other night, this will feed Cox's army.
A long, lazy evening looms, and and I welcome it. Jamie, Mel, and their girls will be here "after work" depending on how long it takes them to drive from Frisco--lately the Friday night traffic has been awful, and they're not known for fast starts. I don't expect them very early, but the guest apartment is ready, the a/c on. And I'm happy.

The Single Life--and Food

I pretty much enjoy my single life. With an empty nest, I've gotten used to the independence and freedom. I've built myself a good life, full of friends, and I have a family so close I can't imagine introducing a new person into that circle. At home, I can keep my own hours, do with my house what I want, fill my closets and not worry about keeping them neat. I'm not sure there's room for a man in this house--or in my life. Oh, sure, sometimes I'd like to have a companion to go to an ocasional theater or music thing (I'm not devoted to either), but I have an active enough social life.
But I'm an admitted foodie--and that's where I miss a man or, even more, the family I used to cook for daily. As I posted on Facebook,  yesterday was a red-letter day because both Bon Appetit and Southern Living arrived in the same day. I spent a goodly amount of time poring over them--a first-time run-through, because I'll go back, more slowly, and savor. Some months not much grabs my taste buds, but this month both were full of things I want to try, notably a lot of varieties of chicken salad. It's not that I eat a lot--I'm currently on a small portion, no carb kick, which means I ordered a cheeseburger without a bun tonight. But I want to cook these dishes, and I can't eat them all myself.
Then, tonight, I went through my miscellaneous recipe file which includes breakfast recipes--I keep my appalling collection of recipes in separate files for Entrees Tried, Entrees Not Tried, Vegetables, Appetizers, and Desserts. This miscellaneous file is mostly breakfast foods and soups. I was looking for ideas for Jordan who will entertain the whole family, 16 of us, on Mother's Day for breakfast. And once again I found all these scrumptious recipes that serve 6, 8, 12. I simply can't cook them all.
Yes, I do entertain fairly frequently, and Jordan said tonight, "Call me. Christian often has evening events, and I'd love to have supper." So I guess I'll do that. I'm always afraid my friends get worn out with my dinner invitations.
Stuffed pull-apart bread anyone? It has bacon, scallions, and cheese in it--okay I leave out the olives. Or how about a breakfast strudel with eggs, onions, ham, chives, cream cheese, and o.j. (Once again, I cater to my tastes and leave out the bell pepper--I don't like them and neither does my stomach.) Cooking does for me what meditation does for others.

A cooking failure and a lovely evening

My Easter table

What do you do when it's the Saturday night before Easter and you're alone and having a pity party? Why cook yourself a good meal, of course. So that's what I did. But it didn't quite work out. First of all, I generally don't like tilapia. But I found a recipe that sounded good--poach it in wine, make a cream sauce and top with sauteed mushrooms. Of course I fiddled with the recipe--no way I'm putting two cups heavy cream in a sauce, so I added a small spoon of light sour cream. Of course I didn't let the cooking liquid reduce enough--impatience!--and I didn't as the recipe said thicken it with cornstarch or flour and water. Result was a runny sauce that did nothing for the fish. And guess what? I don't like tilapia. The aspargus was good, but I've been eating on the same bunch of aspargus all week.
I decided chocolate and chardonnay fix anything, so I took both of those, with my Kindle, out on the porch. Lovely evening. As I came out the door, a small gray and  white kitty skittered away from my monkey grass--hope she's not someone's lost baby. Then I sat and stared at squirrels, who are my enemy because they ruin my porch plants. The big old elm in front of the house has a huge knot hole in it--one  year we sat and watch birds fly in and out. They had built a nest there and were feeding babies. Tonight squirrels were in and out of it. Do they build nests? The world does not need more squirrels, at least my corner of the world.
I got my chili book as ready to send off as I can today, and the book on my pile is dark and depressing--a holocaust survival tale with a twist. Not what my mood needed. So here's the glory of an e-reader: I ordered Carolyn Hart's newest Death on Demand book, Death Comes Silently, and read until it grew too dark. Then I came in and filled the deviled egg shells--gosh that filling is good!
Mood much improved now.
For those of you who celebrate Easter, may you have a blessed day tomorrow. If Passover, enjoy that. I've lost track of how far into Passover it is, but I do have fond memories of seders more raucous than reverent. But I'm sure the intent was there, and I think seders are meant to be joyous. How I'd love some good, crisp, hot latkes!
Table set with my Easter china--check. Eggs deviled--check. Dishes out to cook lamb and vegetables--check. I'm all set for Easter dinner. So glad to share it with Sue Boggs, her children and her parents as well as Jordan, Christian, and Jacob. And maybe my Colin--what a treat even a brief visit from him will be.

Ah, domesticity!

Sometimes I get in the mood for a domestic day--and today was it. Trips to two grocery stores this morning, although of course I already have a list of what I didn't get, and cooking tonight. For a while I was out of the cooking mood, but I'm back in it.
Guess the grocery store wore me out because I came too close for comfort to sleeping past time to get Jacob. Came awake with a start--I'd turned off the alarm twenty minutes earlier--and flew into cotton knit pants and a T-shirt, the outfit Jacob calls my "jammies." I asked him if he was embarrassed, and he said yes. Thank  you, Jacob. No one else seemed to notice. Nor did they notice that I was almost stumbling because I'd been so sound asleep--one of those dreams where you're two layers down into dreams. Fortunately he was far from the last child left on the playground.
Nice surprise for him: Meredith, my next-door neighbor, took Jacob and her two (Abby, four, and Grayson, one) to ride the park train--brave girl. I told Jacob to mind Meredith, which I knew he would, but forgot to tell him to watch out for Abby. No need. Meredith said at the first bridge, he threw his arm across her and said, "I have to hold on to you just in case." Obviously, Abby thinks he's a hero, as shown in this picture.

Jacob and his daddy had supper with me on the porch--that pork roast bits I wrote about in Potluck with Judy (http://potluckwithjudy.blogspot.com/2012/03/boiled-porkoh-come-on-now-with-black.html). The salad was special--first greens from my gutter garden. Jacob, predictably, did not like the meat. But Christian and I lingered over wine on the porch and had a nice visit while Jacob captured roly-polys and created a home for them in an ice cream cup.
It was late when I started to fix bbq--but it's all cooking merrily away in the crockpot now. After going to all the trouble to make the sauce--and it is a bit of trouble--I nearly forgot to turn the crockpot on. It was plugged in, wasn't it? What more does it need? Potatoes are cooked, and tomorrow I'll finish up the bbq and make potato salad--all for neighbor Jay's b'day dinner Sunday night. I am so glad to be back in a cooking mood.
Monday I'm fixing a strange chicken salad for Elizabeth--we're going to work on her memoir. But since she's gluten free I thought to just fix a big tossed salad with a vinaigrette--until I found this on Pinterest: chicken, lime juice, salt, cilantro, and garlic. Think I'll add some scallions, since I have them in my garden. Or maybe serve the scallions separately, with salt to dip them in. I remember that from my childhood. So good when they're fresh out of the ground--or, in this case, the gutter.
And then it's on to Easter dinner--the $8,000 leg of lamb with a gratin of potatoes, onions, and tomatoes. But more about that later.
I'm taking a vacation from writing--and from my conscience. Such fun!

New Year's stuff

Ignore the goofy look on his face--Jacob was posing. But we had a party tonight--cheddar fondue and kid wine (okay, mine was NOT sparkling cider). He came up with a toast that startled me, "Go, Jesus!" I thought, "Why not?" and toasted with him. He kept saying it was the best fondue ever--not sure how wide his comparison base is. I have promised that if he's very good he may stay up tonight to watch the Times Square Ball drop at eleven our time.
If how you spend December 31 is an omen about the coming year, I'm one happy person. I did some cooking--hoppin' john for tomorrow--but spent most of the day at my computer working on a manuscript. Mostly, it was formatting work which is monotonously addictive, sort of like Facebook--you keep thinking just one more line, one more entry. But I have a lot of work on my desk, and I like that. And tonight Jacob is with me. Makes for a pretty fine day.
Ordinarily I'm not one to make New Year's resolutions, because who keeps them? But I have three this year that seem important to me, and I intend to keep them:
1. To exercise regularly, either yoga or my exercise bike. I stopped both in July when Sophie came to our house. At first I was outside so much with her because she was too little to let out alone. But now she spends hours outside and loves it. Meantime I got out of the habit of exercising--and I gained weight. My conscience bothers me more than my body, but for the past two or three weeks I've gotten back to yoga sporadically. In August, too, Jacob started coming after school every day--and I can't do yoga when he's around. See? I have all kinds of excuses. This year, I'm planning yoga into each day's schedule as much as possible.
2. I will get control of Sophie who minds so well at some things and ignores others plus is totally a mess when excited. I need to stop telling myself she's just a puppy. She's almost eight months old and needs to live in the world. Last night when she insisted on jumping on me, I put her in her crate; half an hour later I let her back into the office, and she slept at my feet like an angel. After Sue walked her and announced, "She's used to getting her own way," I called the dog trainer I used with Scooby. He'll come next Friday.
3. This one is harder but lately I've been acutely aware of how blessed and lucky I am--with family, friends, meaningful work, a comfortable home, an income that keeps me fed and warm and allows a few luxuries if not many. But there are so many who are much less fortunate, especially in these economic times. So I resolve to do some kind of outreach, probably through my church. Working at a museum or making visitors calls for the church, which I already do, or some of the other things that interest me aren't the same--they reach those who already have. If I'm honest, I have to admit that I'm probably not suited to work with the homeless--my church has a program called Room at the Inn, whereby homeless people are fed and housed for one night a week. I don't think that's my niche. It may take a while to find it. It may be that being politically active during this election fits part of that resolve. I have been actively trying to find my political voice on Facebook.
My friend Subie ended their Christmas letter with a wish that each of us find meaningful and satisfying work--that, to me, is so important. So I wish that for each of you, along with health, happiness, and love. No, I don't wish you wealth--but I wish you security and comfort.
2012--bring it on!

My own joy of cooking

Nice, lazy evening tonight browsing through the new issue of Food & Wine, a magazine that's often a bit esoteric for me. But tonight, because I didn't feel my usual sense of rushing, I lingered over travel articles and other pieces. Found in one a description of a tart made of fresh (just from the earth) lettuce, herbs and oil topped with anchovies and baked--sounds heavenly. The writer wasn't sure how she'd feel about cooked lettuce but praised it. Here are the recipes I cut out to cook: trout schnitzel with lemon-chile butter; crispy potato galette with smoked fish and dill creme; open-face sardine sandwiches with tangy aioli; pork-and-cheese arepas with tangy cabbage slaw. I may have to find adventurous eaters to share these meals with me--I can't see Jordan and Christian waxing enthusiastic about open-faced sardine sandwiches. Jeannie? Jay? Rodger?
I didn't know what an arepa is, so I went to my trusted Food Lover's Companion--only to be disappointed. Found the following on Wikipedia: An arepa is a dish made of ground corn dough or cooked flour, popular in Colombia, Venezuela and other Spanish-speaking countries. It is similar in shape to the Salvadoran pupusa. Arepas can also be found in Panama, Puerto Rico and the Canary Islands. My daughter says she doesn't need the Food Lovers Companion because she has a computer, and I told her she was wrong. Maybe I'm wrong..
I've been cooking today. I"m having a group in for cocktails (read wine) and snacks tomorrow, and on the menu, among other things, is a liver pate that a friend told me about. She swears even non-liver eaters will go back time and again for this.  So I think I'll keep count of how many non-liver eaters will overcome their prejudice and try Sally's recipe which has madeira, allspice, thyme, and too much butter. It needs to sit overnight, but I tasted it--rich but oh so delicious.
I'm also making the caviar dish that Jamie loves--caviar on a base of cream cheese seasoned with onion, mayonnaise, and lemon. Jordan is upset that I didn't make the sausage balls that you make with Bisquick. You can't please all of the people all of the time.
I'm watching an episode of Guy Fieri's "Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives"--much of that food is way too far into the category of "fat food" for me, but it sure looks good. Right now, it's fried chicken. Fieri doesn't feature the food I cook, but I do like that show. There's been a flurry on Facebook because Fieri's show has been filming in the area--but not in Fort Worth, in spite of the fact that we all have suggestions for him.
I love writing, reading, especially mysteries, but cooking holds a special place in my soul. When I get to heaven, I'm asking for an apron.
Sophie just drew blood again--she paws at my arm for attention, and we're fighting the"Off!" battle. I say "Off" in my sternest tone and turn my back on her--she refuses to accept that command, and a few minutes later a sneak attack I'm not expecting bloodies my arm.. As a consequence lots of my T-shirts are blood-stained--on the left sleeve. She's also alienated at least one person who was prepared to adore her--8-year-old Edie, a real softie for animals, was so excited about seeing her again (she was with me the day I got her) but lost interest because Sophie jumps so much. Jacob roughhouses and wrestles with her and never seems bothered by her wildness--six months ago he was afraid of dogs. Now, he comes in after school and wants to play with the dogs right away. He sits on the roof of the porch to the doghouse and sometimes hoists Sophie up there with him.
Right now, Sophie has gotten the message, belatedly, and is sleeping at my feet. Puppy, puppy, puppy.

Thoughts on dogs and rain, supper, and the search for birthparents

I think anyone reading this knows how much I love my old dog, Scooby, and my puppy, Sophie, but this has not been a good day to own dogs. Rain all day, sometimes heavy, and the backyard is a sea of mud. The path from the back door to the kitchen is lined with old rugs, and I am finally getting Sophie to the point where I can dry her feet and legs without a ferocious battle. But I think she decided this morning to be fractious today: the first thing she did, as I stood right there with the door open for her to go out, was to go to her favorite spot in the playroom and pee. I caught her mid-act and practically threw her oiutside. Then all day, if she's out, she wants to be in; if she's in, she paws at me desperately until I put her out. And of course every re-entry from the outside means all that toweling. I really need to wash their towels and rugs, but when's the chance? I have to leave them down.
Scooby has never let me touch his hind legs, though he'll suffer me drying his front paws. I usually get a treat and make him dance back and forth on those rugs until he doesn't leave footprints. Hmm, maybe if I turn that big rug over I can start fresh. This afternoon I put him in his bed while I napped, and since then every time I inquire politely if he'd like to go out and eat his dinner, he gives me a baleful look. I know when eventualy I put him out he'll dump the dinner all over and it will turn into a soggy mess.

I ate leftovers for lunch and told myself I could have salmon cakes, deviled egg, and pea salad for supper--some of my favorite foods. The eggs didn't come out of the shell easily and were hard to stuff; the salmon cakes never got brown--okay, Mom, I ignored your dictum about soda crackers and used panko, not the same; and I gave up on pea salad and had the broccoli that was in the fridge. None of it tasted quite like I imagined it would. I guess I'll have to eat chocolate.
I'm reading, for review on the Story Circle Network, The Night Sky about about the daughter of two Dachau prisoners, . Her parents were sent to forced labor on a German farm. Though they worked hard and had slight acommodations, they fared much better than most Dachau prisoners. Raised by her mother and stepfather in the U.S., Maria Sutton spent almost forty years searching for her father, in spite of red flag warning that he was not the dashing, courageous, brave and generous Polish military officer she imagined. I suppose such a fantasy is hard to let go of, but as the adoptive parent of four, I wonder about that desperate search for a birth parent. My four seem, as far as I know, to be content with me as their parent, and they are--watch me boast--happy, productive people who are wonderful parents and seem quite well adjusted, always have, to the fact of adoption. I'm not sure how I'd feel if they suddenly, now most in their forties, had to search. I think I would be afraid it was symptomatic of some deeper crisis in their lives. But maybe I'm judging without walking a mile in the other person's moccasins.

Spam stix--no kidding

The Texas State Fair is here, along with its weird deep-fried foods. Every year contestants try to outdo previous years—like this year fried bubble gum is edging out fried butter. One of the lesser known contests is for Spam recipes, but my friend Weldon Adams submitted his fried Spam stix—and didn’t win. Still, his wife, Beth, insists that they are “embarrassingly good.” We had them for dinner tonight. I found them like crunchy fish sticks, delicious dipped in ketchup. I was only cautious because the fat content in traditional Spam is pretty high. Christian, my fussy son-in-law, ate two helpings plus what was on his son’s plate, and ignored the back-up hamburger I’d gotten him. We thought Jacob would like them but he didn’t (ate a ton of purple-hulled peas with ketchup).

For those that might not know Spam is a canned lunch meat made of ham, pork, sugar, salt, water, starch, and sodium nitrite. Since it was introduced in 1937 over six billion cans have been sold worldwide. It was introduced primarily for the armed forces because, with all that sodium, it keeps well. They used so much of it at Pearl Harbor that Hawaii became sort of Spam Central, and the international recipe competition is held there to this day.

When I was a kid, Spam sandwiches were made much like ham sandwiches with lettuce and mayo or mustard. My frugal mother, who’d lived through the Depression and was living through the second World War in her lifetime, treated a whole can of Spam like a ham—she crisscrossed knife slashes across the top, sprinkled it with brown sugar, studded it with cloves, and baked it. Mom sliced the leftovers and fried them for breakfast meat. Weldon says his family ate chicken-fried Spam.

Spam has become sort of an inside joke these days. Lots of people who’ve never tasted it say, “Yuck! I could never eat that.” (Count at least one of my daughters among them.) But it spite of the product’s generally poor reputation, Hormel has a huge Spam Web site that you can explore for hours (http://www.spam.com). Much of it seems tongue-in-cheek. The Spam Museum, for instance, is a virtual museum. Listing visits per year, the site says, “As many as you’d like.” There’s a page devoted to Spammobile, a gift shop that sells T-shirts, coffee cups and mugs, drop earrings with SPAM cans, lapel pins, bumper stickers that say “I love Spam,” a Spam fan club (“your membership lasts a lifetime”), and an endless list of things. The Book of SPAM is available online from amazon.com. Today Spam comes in a dithering array of flavors—original, hickory smoked, with bacon, with garlic, with cheese, lite, turkey. The Web site has recipes—Spam stroganoff, Spam meatloaf, Spam quiche, a speedy dip, croquettes, and a minestrone soup made with Spam. There are also suggestions for adapting the ubiquitous meat to various cuisines. Prefer French food? You can have your Spam in ratatouille or something called Ragin’ Cajun Spam party salad. Asian? How about Speedy Cheesy Stir-fry? Spam a la orange? Sweet and sour Spam Cantonese? If Mexican is your preference, you can have Spam in chili relleños, ranchero eggs, chimichangas, or breakfast burritos. And finally, of course, there’s Italian—pizza is inevitable, but you can also make turkey Spam lasagna, eggplant Italiano, spaghetti sauce, or fettucine primavera. The possibilities are endless.

It’s no coincidence that spam has become the term for unwanted junk email. There’s an explanation on the Web, but it went over my head.

Here’s Weldon’s description and recipe for his Spam stix:

French Fried Spam Stix are intended as a replacement for both sausage links and hash browns to help break the monotony on a breakfast plate. They are a tasty match with my special “Dippin’ Sauce,” especially when paired with scrambled eggs. And kids love them for breakfast…or lunch…or dinner.

In addition, this dish is completely gluten-free, dairy-free, soy-free, & corn-free.  (It can easily be made egg-free as well by substituting Almond Milk for the beaten egg.) Food allergies are such an issue today that Hormel Foods should highlight the fact that Spam is gluten-free. 

 Ingredients:

1 12-oz. Can of Spam (Several flavors will work, but I use the classic)

½ Cup Almond Meal (a.k.a. Almond Flour)

½ Cup Brown Rice Flour

½ Teaspoon Salt (or to taste)

1 Egg (beaten)

Extra Virgin Olive Oil (to fry in)

Note: if gluten allergies don’t trouble you, substitute regular white flour and corn meal for the rice flour and almond meal.)

Kickin’ Chicken Dippin’ Sauce (So named for the chicken on the label of the Sriracha bottle)

Ingredients:
1 cup ketchup
1 Tablespoon Sriracha hot sauce (or to taste)

French Fried Spam® Stix directions:

Set out two bowls in a line next to a deep pot you will use to fry in.

In the bowl next to the pot, mix the Almond Meal, Brown Rice Flour & the salt.
In the bowl further away from the pot, thoroughly beat one egg.
Open and carefully remove the Spam from the can.  Rinse and gently shake off any excess water.
Your block of Spam will have score marks (indentation lines) on the sides and ends from the shape of the can.  Stand it upright.  There is a single score mark down the middle of each of the skinny ends.
Use a sharp knife to cut the block in half using those lines as guide lines.  Then divide each half the same way on your own, making 4 slabs of Spam.
Keep them stacked up and lay your Spam on its side.  There are 4 score marks on the sides.  Use them as guides to slice the SPAM® that way as well.  Then divide each of the thicker end pieces in half the same way.  You now have 28 almost uniform ‘French fry’ shaped pieces of Spam. Add enough Extra Virgin Olive Oil to your fry pot to cover at least half the thickness of these sticks and bring it to heat.

Once the oil is hot enough to fry, use the “wet-hand/dry-hand” method to move the sticks to the fry pot. Take some sticks in your “wet hand” (the one further away from the pot) and roll the sticks in the beaten egg.  Then drop them on top of the mixed dry ingredients.

Using your ‘dry hand’, cover the sticks and roll them over to ensure equal coating on all sides and ends. Then using the same hand, lay them on a broad spatula and lower them into the hot oil to fry.

As you fill the pot evenly across the bottom, check to make sure the first ones are not overdone. They should have a nice golden brown on the sides and bottom.  If so, flip them with the spatula. Once all are done, remove them to a cooling/draining rack.

Repeat the process until you have fried all 28 sticks.  Once all are on the cooling rack, you can mix up the Kickin’ Chicken Dippin’ Sauce.

Kickin’ Chicken Dippin’ Sauce directions:

In a bowl, mix 1 cup of ketchup with 1 tablespoon of Sriracha Sauce.

 Paired with eggs, this serves four.

Kitchen mistakes--and successes

Tonight I decided to do some heavy duty cooking--make potato salad for tomorrow night, fix a lamb patty and beets and greens for my dinner. Central Market sells lamb patties that have mint and feta mixed in--delicious, but one patty is huge. I halve them and freeze, and sometimes even a half is too much. But tonight I ate the whole thing--I mean, the whole half. The beets on the other hand were a problem--not exactly a disaster, but...My habit it to boil them, then slide off the outer peel, slice, and reheat with the greens, which cook down quickly. Well, I boiled those beets and boiled them and boiled them some more and still couldn't stick a fork in them. Finally decided I'd let them simmer while I ate lamb and leftover summer squash casserole. When I finally went back to them, they peeled and sliced easily--at last.
Made a potato salad with lemon juice and oil, no mayo. The Bookish Frogs, a group of friends of TCU Press, had a potluck supper recently and my friend Sue Winter brought this--I loved it. Some of my friends don't like mayonnaise (which I consider a travesty, but there's no accounting for friends) and some are gluten free--this would be perfect for them. So now I have a head start on tomorrow's dinner, beets to nibble on all week--I may pickle some--and have had a good dinner.
Sophie and I marked a milestone of sorts today: I began to leave her out without being out there every minute. Freed both of us. I do small chores, then go back to check. Since I keep a leash on her--only way I can catch her until I can teach her to come, which she isn't inclined to learn yet--I have to check frequently to make sure she isn't hung up on something, but so far she's been fine. This morning I sat at the back room table reading the paper while she and Scooby played. I left the door open, and when Scoob tired of her he came in. I tried the same thing this evening, just before dark--but he came in right away, as if to say, "Enough is enough." Sophie has also--knock on wood since it's only nine--had an accident-free day. I think this makes four days. It may come from my not watching like a hawk to see if she pees and poops. Sort of the same principle that I'm doing better on my weight now that I'm not so focused on it.
Wywy is still with us. Sunned himself by the back door this afternoon and then yowled like he wanted food. In my excitement to get him food, I left the door open and panicked for fear he'd gone outside. But he moves so slowly I figured I'd find him if he did, and this evening, while I haven't seen him, I've noticed that he's eaten some, so I guess he's safely in his closet in the house.
Whew! In the midst of all that I actually did some work editing a young-adult manuscript, by another author, for my publisher. Got all mixed up with "Search and replace" in Word but the managing editor was able to guide me through it. I get along pretty well with Word, but someitmes it seems determined to make my life difficult. This time, if I center the chapter title, it goes back and centers the last lines of the previous chapter; if I fix that, it left justifies the chapter title. Go figure! And I searched for and replaced double spaces--many people still double space after a period as we were taught years ago in school, but it doesn't work today with new printing technology. Today it deleted two spaces from all the first-line indents--fixing that line by line would have taken forever and the thought had me tearing my hair, but that's what the editor showed me how to fix.

What are your dream goals?

Today, "Writing Well is the Best Revenge," one of my favorite blogs, was about unreachable goals, inspired by Diana Nyad's failed attempt to swim from Cuba to Florida without a shark cage. When she had to give up, she said, "I was the best I could be." Each of the eight or nine bloggers talked about their goals and, of course, for many of these multi-published authors, publication of that first book was the primary goal. Others confessed to goals that involved physical risk, while still others shunned such an idea. I commented that, although well published, I always wanted to publish a mystery. With that goal in sight with the forthcoming publication of Skeleton in a Dead Space, I guessed that my goals are to turn that one book into a series and then move on to a really significant book, not that I know how to judge "significant."
On the blog Hallie Ephron's goals particularly struck me. She confessed to wanting to make a quilt; she started the project and ended with a handbag. But most of her goals had to do with cooking, and the one, so far unreachable, is to make an eight-layer dobos torte (she's made a five-layer one). I noted that I shared her cooking goals, but after I posted my comment I got to thinking that I don't really know what my cooking goals are. There's no one dish I want to make--I did think of turducken--not even a complicated Julia Child's recipe I want to master. There are however lots of recipes in my file that I want to try--Southern Living came yesterday and I cut out several recipes.
It dawned on me that my one unreachable goal is to be a chef. I suspect at my age I lack the energy, and I know my feet and back couldn't take the long hours on hard floors. But I would love to have a small tea shop-kind of restaurant where I would have people to eat the things that strike me, by whim and fancy, that I want to cook. It's an impractical goal for many reasons, and I know it--the failure rate of restaurants is astronomical and at this advanced point in life I'm not risking my finances. I once took an informal course in restaurant management that convinced me I know nothing about managing a restaurant. I just know the cooking. Several years ago when I was working full time but dissatisfied with life--okay, bored--I decided I would go to culinary school, until a friend reminded me of the high cost, long hours, small reward.
So my reachable goals have to do with writing. There's already a sequel to Skeleton waiting for the publisher's approval. It's called at this point No Neighborhood for Old Women. And I have the first chapter of a third book in the series--as yet untitled. I've been dragging my heels on that, waiting to hear about the second book, but I do believe it's important to have series titles come out in fairly rapid succession. Don't give readers time to go off in other directions and forget your work.
As for cooking, Jordan tells me she and her family will eat with me at least once a week when school is in session and I keep Jacob in the afternoons. So next Tuesday, I'll fix Salisury steak, oven-fried potatoes with rosemary, and a salad. And I've got a dinner party in my head. I told Gayland Poole last night if he'd make thje chili biscuits, as he was promising, I'd cook the dinner. Yep, my mind is never far from food. Maybe it should stay closer to my writing.

Brand new web page and other stuff

Please check out my new web page at http://www.judyalter.com. It's totally redesigned and features my forthcoming mystery, Skeleton in a Dead Space. One of the things people have so far really liked about it is the pictures of Kelly's neighborhood, Kelly being the main character in the novel. My friend Polly Hooper and I drove around Fort Worth's Fairmount neighborhood one Sat. afternoon while she took pictures. She's also responsible for my new picture on this blog and the web page. Great job, Polly, and many thanks. (She does this as a hobby!) Thanks also to Oscar Brown and his company who designed and will maintain the site. I'd love to have your comments.
Many parts of Texas got blessed rain today. I haven't watched TV for the official measurements or anything but the world was wet and muddy when I got up this morning. It's been so long since rain--BP as in before puppy--that I'd forgotten about the complications of dogs and mud and how much Scoob hates rain. I didn't mind dealing with it, nor did I mind that my newspaper was quite soggy. It rained, mostly just spitting, all morning. Luckily, I'm washable, even my hair--so I don't mind getting wet. The rain lowered the temperature some, but the humidity was so high it felt like a steam bath outside.
Jordan and Jacob came for lunch, and I'm not sure if it's harder to train the puppy or the boy. He wants to give her orders all the time, even when she's not doing anything bad. Today  we worked on "If she's jumping on me, let me handle it; if she's jumping on you, then you tell her down." As it was, he was shouting "Down!" all the time. Sophie has truly been a pain today--I fear we'll never get house training done--she understands about outside, but if she has to go she doesn't think about it. She has "favorite" spots in the house. I read in the monks' book about training that you should never let a puppy see you clean up the accident--makes them think  you're their housekeeper, and Sophie tends to think it playtime to see if she can grab the paper towel. So now, if I catch her in the act, I roar, rush her outside, by which time she's always forgotten what she wanted to do, and then put her in the crate while I clean up. There goes a chunk of time! She goes from chewing on wires to destroying the bottom shelf of my bookcase to escaping from the kitchen even when I'm working in there.
I did cook today. Made stuffed mushrooms with my mom's recipe for our lunch--had four mushrooms left from something else and Jordan loves them. Simple stuffing:

Grated cheddar
dry mustard
Worcestershire
chopped scallion
mayonnaise to bind

Bake in a moderate oven so the mushrooms will cook before the cheese runs all over the place. The cheese mixture is delicious just on bread, broiled. No, I don't have measurements--it's something you do by gosh and by golly.
Also made barbecue sauce today so that first thing in the morning I can put my chuck roast and the sauce in the crockpot to cook all day. It's a recipe from Cook's Illustrated that I've used before, but this time I couldn't resist substituting dark molasses for dark brown sugar. We'll see.
And today I finally got ground lamb patties at Central Market--they make them with feta and mint, and they are delicious. One of the butchers told me to call ahead and order them, so I did when I ordered the chuck roast. I cooked half a pattie (they're 8 oz. patties) thinking I'd save half of that for lunch tomorrow--no such luck. I ate the whole thing.
Off to read a good mystery.

Taco night

Ever since she was maybe five or six, my youngest daughter has requested taco night for her birthday. Now she extends it to any occasion when she wants to get people together, so tonight was taco night at her house, with five adults and two children. Needless to say, I was the eldest, but how nice that these young people, now in their late 30s, want me around.
Jordan puts out appetziers. I brought southwestrn tuna, which she wasn't sure her friends would eat--and sure enough Christian and one guest didn't eat it. But that was my dinner, and Jordan and her first-ever boyfriend David helped me eat it. I reminded her that she and David had eaten a lot of it on my front porch one night--long after they were boyfriend and girlfriend. They are now best buddies.
Jordan put out salsa, taco meat, tortillas and taco shells, sour cream, guacamole, refritos, jalopenos, cheese, and pico de gallo. We drank wine and chatted and had a really good time. I brought gingersnaps for the kids, but Jordan had M&M cookies, which they much preferred. The adults loved the gingersnaps--given to me by a friend.
The southwestern tuna recipe was given to me long ago by a friend now gone from my life--some friends are transitory. For several years, I lost the recipe (finally found it in the back of my recipe drawer) and tried to reconstruct it from memory, putting in such things as capers. Today when I made it I had a major tragedy: I have--or I should say I had--one can of that outstanding salmon from Pisces Cannery that I ws hoarding--probably can't get any more until next spring. But when I grabbed two cans of Pisces tuna to make the salad for tonight, I mistakenly opened the salmon. So I had salmon for lunch and probably will have it for supper tomorrow.
But here's the southwestern tuna recipe:
2 7 oz. cans tuna
1/4 cup mayonnaise
3 Tbsp. chopped red onion
3 Tbsp. chopped fresh cilantro
2 Tbsp. canned green chilies--I just dumped a 4 oz. can in
1 Tbsp. grated lime peel
1 tsp. lime juice--I probably used more
1/8 tsp. ground cumin--guess what? I think I left that out by mistake
1/8 tsp. chili powder
Mix it all together. This time I tried an experiment and used a hand mixer on it--made for a much smoother texture. With just three of us eating it, there still wasn't much left, but it makes about two cups and the suggestion is to serve it with tortilla chips. I would also suggest crackers. Enjoy!