Minor misadventures and cooking redemption

 

 

After the eclipse, I would have told you that for most of the day there was a spot on the moon. Nothing serious, but nothing went quite right.

The major project for today was for Jordan and me to go to Christian’s office for covid booster shots, because this is the day once a month that a visiting nurse comes to give shots—a wonderful service his company provides its people, and he was going to let me take advantage. Going places in the morning is always a bit of, well, a reach for me. I much prefer to spend the morning at my computer. But I dutifully dressed in street clothes, even washed my hair so Christian would not be embarrassed by his mother-in-law.

We were early; the nurse was late. I sat in my transport chair in the hall and tried to keep up with emails. Finally, she arrived—a substitute because the usual nurse, her mother, couldn’t come today. It’s been six months since Jordan and I had our twin covid cases, and we were finally eligible for the booster. The nurse didn’t have Moderna, only Pfizer, but she assured us we could switch. I said our doctor said not to switch, and she immediately said to follow the doctor’s advice. So I asked for RSV, which I also need. She didn’t have it. Then she found two doses of Moderna. But she could not take me Humana Medicare. She talked to her mother, who said something to the effect that she loved Christian so much her daughter should go ahead and give me the shot. I do not understand any of this.

Upshot: I got my covid booster but haven’t gotten the RSV shot yet and will probably have to go to a pharmacy for that.

I was expecting a lunch guest tomorrow (she has since had to postpone until Thursday). Heather was a student intern in my office at TCU Press more moons ago than she would probably like to remember. She went on to editorial work at Harcourt, and then I lost track of her. Turned out she had been in San Antonio attending the Culinary Institute of America. We hooked up again, and when I was working on my cookbook, Gourmet on a Hot Plate, she was a huge help. But we had at that time great political differences. I suspect she is more forgiving about that than I am. At any rate, the relationship just sought of drifted into space, but recently she emailed that she had published a small children’s book and needed marketing advice. She admitted we probably still have our differences but maybe we could set them aside. So she’s to come for lunch.

I am seriously challenged by cooking for someone who trained with the CIA, but I found a sort of non-recipe I liked: marinate tomato slices in balsamic vinegar and then top with creamed spinach and grated cheese—run under the broiler until cheese melts and is bubbly. Perfect! So I ordered spinach from Central Market, but it didn’t come with my weekly order. I was sure I could get it before Wednesday, but today I thought, “Yikes!” Then Heather emailed to say she has to cover for someone at work tomorrow (she’s in charge of food service at an extended care facility) , so I presented her with my dilemma—did she want to bring the spinach or did she want my signature tuna salad? We have settled on the tuna, and she will be here Thursday.

Tonight was Mary’s regular happy hour night, and I was so pleased that I had gotten a jar of pickled herring for her—she loves it, and I pretty much do too. But when I was trying to cut off the cellophane collar on the jar, I noticed my fingers already smelled like the pickling liquid—red flag. And then the lid to the jar popped off sort of spontaneously. One unusable jar of pickled herring, and one big disappointment. I will call Central Market in the morning—may be too late for a refund, but at least they should know.

But after these mishaps and my kitchen fails of the weekend, I redeemed myself tonight. Central Market had sent me an unasked-for lb. of ground chicken. They hadn’t charged me for it, and I know they couldn’t take it back, so I had to do something with it. I’ve made chicken burgers in the past and not liked the texture. Lettuce wraps seemed the perfect solution. I got the copycat recipe online for PF Chang’s lettuce wraps, raided Christians supply of Asian seasonings, and made my first-ever lettuce wraps with real butter lettuce—a luxury. Served with sugar snap peas (I’m not sure it wasn’t a mixture of sugar snap peas and snow peas—hard to tell them apart and Central Market may have slipped a bit). It was, if I do say, delicious, and a recipe I’ll keep and reuse (may have to buy my own sesame oil and hoisin sauce, etc.—I did not use Siracha but substituted the ordinary Heinz chili sauce I had).

So how was your post-eclipse day? A spot on the moon or all in order?