A rich dinner, kitchen goofs, and more football

 

There’s a meme going around on Facebook asking what food you think of when you think of your father. My instant answer, with my Canadian father who was an Anglophile—leg of lamb. Some time ago I was given a generous gift certificate to Whole Foods, and I blew the whole thing on a butterflied leg of lamb. So tonight we ate high on the hog—leg of lamb, twice-baked potatoes, and salad. I should/could have marinated the lamb overnight, but I didn’t get to it, and this morning the day started off so oddly with the time change that it was late morning before I got the marinade made. So I put it in the fridge until late afternoon and then marinated it at room temperature. I haven’t made twice-baked potatoes in a long time, so I printed out a recipe to get the proportions right. Then I figured out what I was doing and threw the recipe away. The result was a truly magnificent meal. The lamb was tender and just done right—pink, so it was neither over- nor under-done. Kudos to Christian, our grill master. Shh. Don’t tell, but I put a bit of buttermilk in the potatoes. Made them creamy and gave them just the slightest tang. I am ready for a nap. But then, my biological clock hasn’t adjusted to the time change.

It’s a good thing I made a good dinner, because maybe it counterbalances all my kitchen “oops” moments of yesterday. I started out to make apple crisp for me and Jean. I will never ever work with Granny Smith apples again. I know, they’re recommended for pies and desserts and the like. But they were the hardest things to cut that I’ve ever encountered. I finally ended up nicking a finger, which bled all over half of one apple. Finger pricks always bleed a lot, and I am on blood thinners, so it was a gusher. I got a band aid, finished cutting the apple into chunks instead of the recommended thin slices and gave up. Then I started on the artichoke/spinach pasta, a dish I’ve wanted to make for a long time but haven’t because of the tastes—or non-tastes—of some of the family. Problem: no artichokes. I always have a can in my pantry drawer. Took it completely apart—no artichokes. Jean stopped at Target to buy a can and met a bewildering array of choices—large, medium, small, quartered, whole, etc.

I’m happy to report that both the pasta dish and the apple crisp turned out great. My leftover half of the crisp was particularly good for breakfast this morning. But I have a gentle reminder—a finger that is slightly sore when I type, from the nick.

Sophie also hasn’t gotten her biological clock in order. She has been a pain all day—wanting in, wanting out, wanting in again, not sure what she wants. I leave the door ajar just a crack because she knows to paw it open—when she will, which is not all the time. Sometimes she throws herself against the door, which does nothing but securely close it. Then she barks, whine, growls, and mutters until I get up to do her bidding. This morning she slept until 8:30 on the old time, which was 7:30 on the new, but I was able to entice her in after a few minutes so I could go back to bed. Praying she adjusts soon.

Gary Patterson continues to be prominent in local headlines and on Facebook. A few people posted today to say, in effect, “We won without him.” The truth is, of course, that yesterday’s triumph over Baylor was his win. He worked with those kids all week, though officially no longer coach, and he planned the game. I think that’s called integrity. Those who didn’t recognize that mostly got slapped down for being rude, inconsiderate, etc. Tonight, between Christian and Jacob, I finally got some idea of what NIL means and why Patterson said he would lose kids when it became effective. Name, Image, Likeness—the new ruling means college players can be compensated and give endorsements. It’s a huge step toward making professionals out of amateurs or college kids, and I can see how it will weaken programs. Once more, money is ruining the intent of college football—kids play for money, not the glory of the school or a post-graduate career. And schools pay exorbitant sums to shine on the football field. I admit I was astounded when I first heard Patterson’s salary. I’m old school, but I do think money is ruining college sports.

And so we begin another week. I hope it’s a good one for each and every one of you.

A Halloween shock

 

Note the parked cars and traffic

Real Halloween, as distinct from last night’s neighborhood festival, was predictably crowded. The best estimates I’ve heard are that we routinely get about 1400 kids, almost all from other neighborhoods, because local kids did their trick-or-treating last night. These kids arrive by the carload, and our streets are lined with parked cars. General routine is for parents to wait at the sidewalk, while the kids come up for their treats. Little ones however are carried and often look bewildered. Costumes range from a black T-shirt to an elaborate (and huge) dinosaur with ghosts, goblins, brides (one so pretty), skeletons, robots—you name it, many very inventive.

Can you find the baby in the basket?

We sat on the porch while Jordan was the main dispenser of candy—she really enjoys it and has a great greeting for each child. The children, in turn, are polite and say thank you, except for one kid who muttered, “More.” Christian had made a pot of tortilla soup, and the plan was everyone was to eat when hungry. I opted to come back to the cottage a little after seven—it was getting chilly—and reheat the leftover vegetable soup I had. But Christian scooped up two of Jordan’s chocolate chip cookies and one brownie for me. No, I didn’t eat it all. The brownie is in a baggie, waiting for tomorrow.

Jordan waiting for the kids

Sophie is a problem on porch party nights. She has an unerring sense of when there’s going to be a party in the house and she, by gosh, is not going to be left out of it. One notable night recently, she snapped at Jordan when she reached for her collar. Tonight, Christian and Jacob both came to get me—one to help me negotiate the stairs and the other to corral Sophie. She knew what was happening. They lured her inside, but she tried to bolt, and Christian was like a football player, dancing to run interference before she escaped. Jacob was reluctant to grab her but did, and we made a not-so-smooth getaway. When Christian walked me back out, she still wanted to go in the house—note she didn’t care where I was. She managed to bolt inside this time, but Jordan brought her back fairly soon. After a few minutes, if you ask her if she wants to go home, she goes to the back door. Now, she’s sleeping peacefully at my feet. Having a spoiled dog is one thing; having one control my behavior to that extent is another, and she’s about to get pulled up short.

Halloween was almost overshadowed on our porch, in the TCU community, and I suspect in the national football community by the sudden announcement this evening of the resignation of Coach Gary Patterson, who has led the football program for twenty-one years, built it to national prominence, been influential on the TCU campus and in campus life in so many other ways, but suffered three bad seasons in a row. To say it’s controversial is an understatement. I am neither a big football fan nor an expert on the politics of football, but I think this will turn out badly for TCU, with a loss of respect and prestige. But maybe not money.

And that’s what I have been hearing over the weekend—winning football teams bring in money and recruit new players. Christian says that’s the way of the world but agrees with me it’s morally wrong. TCU did not fire Patterson; official word is he resigned. But I read somewhere that the AG, a man faceless to me who is named Donati, did not like Patterson’s plans for offseason. They apparently asked him to continue to the end of the season and then take a new role—effectively either a dismissal or demotion. He declined, said it was best for the team if he left now, and met with the players to announce his departure. Good for him. For years, I tired of hearing how financially strapped TCU was, how they would close the press, cut this corner and that, couldn’t afford to have the trees trimmed. This buyout means they owe Patterson and his team a sum so large you can’t even think about it—I only hope it doesn’t come out of funds meant for academic programs.

That’s really more than I know about the matter for sure, so I am, repeat, not qualified to comment. But I do know about loyalty and gratitude, and beyond finances, TCU owes those great debts to Patterson. Somehow, I don’t think they took the high road.