Allow me a moment of nostalgia
and excuse the blurry picture above—those kids were really moving. That’s Jacob
on the trike and Morgan behind him, trying hard to unseat him. That trike was
the cause of more battles when the grands were little! And it has a history of
its own—it was some eighty years old when it was given to me by family friends
whose children and grandchildren had enjoyed it. Repainted at some time by
loving hands, it had solid rubber tires, and the front one had a huge hole in
it. I can still hear Maddie, looking down one day, and exclaiming, “There’s a
hole in my tire. When the playroom at my house was transformed to a TV room
(what happens when grands outgrow hobby horses and trikes), the trike went home
with Colin. I hope he’s still keeping it safe for the next generation.
Since someone asked about my
kitchen experiment, here’s the report on the pickles infused with Hidden Valley
Ranch Dip: pretty good. I let them sit for twenty-four hours in the fridge, as
recommended, and served them with a bowl of plain Cheezits. Verdict was
favorable, and we decided that the dip infusion softens the pickle flavor a
bit. I used a 24 oz. jar of Claussen kosher spears. You may remember that I
also tried the recipe where you coat Cheezits with a seasoned olive oil mixture
and bake them---and I burned them to a fare-thee-well (and wasted a whole box
of Cheezits).
Christian wants me to try it
again at a much lower temperature than recommended. His theory is that my
toaster oven, being smaller than a regular oven, burns much hotter—and I have
noticed that before. The other night he brought out a chicken-and-wild rice
casserole (their oven is broken) and said the recommended temperature was 350
but he wanted to do it at 300. I admit it was nicely heated through—and delicious.
Christian is one of those cooks who needs a recipe to start with but then often
branches out on his own, adding and subtracting ingredients.
It's been a cooking week. I
fixed Norwegian hamburgers Sunday night, having forgotten that they are a bit
of work although well worth it. Last night I did a hamburger Stroganoff—a lot
less work and still very good. Yesterday, Melinda, who worked with me at TCU
Press for years, came for lunch so we could catch up on families, publishing
news—and, of course, politics. Melinda is, if possible, even more fierce about
trump and the Republicans these days than I am. But cooking both lunch and
dinner for others takes a chunk of time. I made salmon patties and a salad for
Melinda and asked if she preferred Thousand Island or buttermilk dressing. At
first, she chose Thousand Island because she hadn’t had it in ages. I proudly
boasted that both were house-made, to which she promptly said, “Oh! Maybe I’ll
just have lemon.” Seems she’s leery of mayonnaise, but my cooking ego was
deflated.
Much as I like to cook, I am
happy that we have leftovers today and Christian will be at a meeting during
dinner. I’ll have Norwegian hamburgers and mashed potatoes for lunch,
Stroganoff for supper, and somewhere I’ll work in something green. My mom
believed you must have something green every day which led me once to sit
across the lunch table from the man then in my life and exclaim in horror: “You
don’t have anything green on your plate.” He had chicken-fried steak, mashed
potatoes, and cream gravy. He rolled his eyes and said, “Once a mother, always
a mother.” My current green favorite, besides salad, is the fresh frozen green
beans I get at Central Market. Give them three or four minutes in boiling
water, add butter and salt, and feast like they just came off the vine. Don’t
get the microwaveable kind. Not as good.
Sweet dreams, everyone!
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