A cooking kind of a day

Actually it was a working kind of a day. My Burton family went to Six Flags with Christian’s family—parents, sister, and her family. I stayed behind to pound out the first version of a proposal for something I hope will become a book one day. Actually, even if invited, I would not have gone. I have lived in Fort Worth for fifty-five years come this summer, and I have never been to Six Flags. It’s a record I’m not interested in breaking.

I did stay home and get words on paper—those first tentative words that convince you an idiot wrote them. But it’s a start. They will, I hope, get better when I review some sources and then re-read what I’ve written.

But I also had a mini-adventure. Tomorrow Jacob will be baptized, and Jordan ordered a cake for the family for the occasion. Then she realized she wouldn’t be home in time to pick it up. I said no problem—I would pick it up, and they would probably bring t out to my car so that I wouldn’t have to struggle with the walker to go in and pick it up. Jordan is way smarter than I am—she pointed out I couldn’t get it into the cottage and the refrigerator. I called a neighbor, who was more than willing to help. But then at 4:30 when I called Mary I got her voice mail. Feeling threatened by the bakery’s closing time, I went first to pick up my dozen farm fresh eggs from a neighbor who sells them and then to the bakery. They did indeed give me curb service—I find if I explain to people about the walker, they are almost always willing to help.

So there I was in my car with a dozen eggs, which I probably could have gotten into the house in a grocery bag with handles, and a cake in a box that there was no way on earth I could get safely inside. I went by my neighbor’s, and her husband came out, rode home with me, and got everything safely inside. Gratitude.

So tonight I sautéed some ground chicken to make lettuce wraps for a light supper tomorrow night—didn’t have nearly all the things the recipe called for, but I can improvise. And then I peeled some beets—may never do that again, because after I labored to do it, I found directions for roasting them unpeeled. Then I compounded my error by roasting them too long, because I fell for that old trap—it a while in the oven is good, a bit longer is better. Not so. Beets are not supposed to be crunchy! But I doused them with that leftover Hollandaise I have, and they were good. (This morning I had my version of Eggs Benedict—a poached egg on half a piece of rye toast with smoked salmon and Hollandaise—oh my, so good!).

I thought I ordered a blue cheese burger from Central Market, but I got a straight sirloin burger. No matter. It was good, and I’ll try for the blue cheese next time.

Now, after my sort of dull yet sort of unusual day, I’m settling down with a novella by Susan Wittig Albert. Perfect end to a pretty good day.