Plaque certifying that our house is a hundred years old
It’s been a good week. My family
has decided, a bit belatedly, that they ate too much over the holidays. So to
avoid more Keto stuff and Whole 30 meals, I have started serving what I call
light suppers, often meatless. These are the kind of meals that my mom used to
fix on Sunday nights for us to dine in front of the fireplace in the living
room. Since it’s acknowledged that I cook for some picky eaters, I approached
this with some trepidation. A couple of nights ago I fixed Welsh Rarebit, a
thick cheese sauce served on toast and fancied up with pickled onions and micro
greens. My mom fixed Welsh Rarebit, but as I recall it was mostly melted sharp
cheddar over saltines—once when I served it for supper, Colin said, “This is
dinner?” No wonder I was nervous. This time, following a recipe, I served it on
English muffins, and it seemed to be a hit. Christian praised the flavor of the
cheese. Great! One down.
Last night supper was
scrambled eggs with a ranchero sauce and (canned) refried beans on the side.
The beans were, to me, a disappointment (I want Joe T’s refritos) but the
ranchero sauce, heavy with chopped bacon, was another hit. Even Jacob ate with
us, and Christian commandeered the leftover sauce for his eggs this morning. My
light meals may not be exactly diet food, but I think people eat less in
quantity than they do if we have a casserole or a meat-and-potatoes dish.
Tonight, for a guest, I served creamed mushrooms on an English muffin (I’m
really into that muffin business) and a marinated beet and feta salad. So good,
and so colorful on the plate. Once again, I blew it and should have taken a
picture. A digression: Central Market sent me the biggest beet I have ever
seen. I ordered two, cooked the smaller one twice as long as should have,
cooked the superhumongous one even longer, and I’m still not sure it’s done.
The smaller one made plenty for me and my dinner guest.
This week also marked progress
on my bucket lists of maintenance chores. Jacob put my compost tumbler together,
but it had far too many screws left over. Christian said he’d take it in the
house and deal with it when he had time, but he was noticeably not enthusiastic
about the chore. I called a handyman who advertises in the neighborhood
newsletter and was recommended by a friend. He installed our brass
hundred-year-plaque on the front of the house and fixed the tumbler, using
almost all the screws. He said the instructions for the tumbler were totally inadequate
and it was no wonder a highschooler didn’t get it right. So now I’m happily
saving all those vegetable scraps and making a list of other chores that need a
handyman. My walker and I have really dinged up the woodwork in the cottage,
and I would like to have it touched up, repainted. whatever it needs.
It's been a great week for me
in that I wrote 8,000 words on my novel-in-progress, tentatively titled, Irene
in a Ghost Kitchen and fifth in my Irene in Chicago Culinary Mysteries. I
had, as I may have said here before, put the manuscript aside at about 30,000
words. I’m not sure why I abandoned it except that I was in that muddle in the middle—halfway
through and couldn’t see clear to the end. Ivan Doig once said writing is like
driving in the dark—you can only see as far ahead as the headlights. And my
headlights weren’t working very well. But at an informal gathering of
publishing people someone praised Irene as a fascinating character, and that
somehow was all I needed to hear to move ahead. So now I’m trying to write as
much as I can. And I’m grateful to the former colleague who said that.
Big goof last night: Sophie
wanted to go out at 5:30 in the morning. Somehow I set the burglar alarm off and
didn’t get it cancelled in time to satisfy the security company’s automatic system.
So there I was trying to talk to this recorded voice and unable to answer Subie’s
call. Finally got it solved, only to have Jordan call, ask what was going on,
and say Subie was on her way over here, which made me feel guilty. Got it all
solved and went back to bed, with appropriate apologies to Jordan and Subie. But
thanks to Subie for true friendship! And to Jordan and Christian for patience.
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