More cooking in the cottage

My kitchen

This is going to turn into a cooking blog if I don’t watch out. Maybe that’s not all bad. Tonight’s dinner was experimental and obviously needs work. But yesterday I asked Amy to buy scallops at Central Market—they came in a bag with ice, and she asked me what to do with it. “Just throw it in the sink? I said, intending to come right back, drain the ice (they tell you not to refrigerate with ice), and put in refrigerator for tonight’s dinner. Six hours later I found the scallops still in the sink, the ice now all melted.

At first I thought I’d go ahead and cook them. I remembered the tables upon tables of raw seafood in the fishermen’s huts at Seaview, sitting out with no refrigeration. But given my stomach problems I decided that wasn’t smart and reluctantly threw them away. Double tragedy because scallops aren’t cheap and I was really looking forward to them, and because it left me with nothing for dinner. I had found a recipe for baked eggs on spinach and decided to try it, though I have no way to bake.

Taste was good, flavors blended well, but I need to work on my cooking technique.

The induction burner cooks hot and quickly, and while I was waiting for the top of my eggs to solidify, the bottom was turning into hard-cooked egg—not the way I pref3er. The recipe called for a toasted English muffin (I tried to saute several baguette slices and burned them), bacon (frozen, so I left it out), and an egg—I used two for good measure. Obviously my limited cooking facilities and ingredients made a huge difference, but I think the recipe has potential.

I need the toaster oven out here but have avoided it for lack of counter space. The Burtons have my wonderful, handmade wooden butcher block in storage, and we’ll measure to see if it will fit in the kitchen area.

This was the kind of day that renews my faith in myself—I got a lot done. Finished reading a book for the Sarton competition and turned in the evaluation (hate that part of it) and did the internet search on the Ferris wheel. I know a lot about it and about Ferris himself from The Gilded Cage but needed to get facts and dates back in mind. I’ll do a guest blog on the wheel later in the month if you want to watch for it. But the whole story, with its impossible outrageousness, intrigues me. One of what I judge the better scenes in The Gilded Cage occurs on the original Ferris wheel.

So now I’m going to treat myself to a cozy mystery.

Ankle Report

 If you’re interested, I think my ankle, foot, leg or whatever is gradually getting better. The foot is still swollen but not near as much and not as red. I can briefly put weight on it now without the excruciating pain of a week ago. Still can’t walk on it except maybe two steps holding on to something, so I scoot around the house on the seat of my walker, using my feet to propel. It’s awkward because the walker is designed to go the other direction, but I am getting pretty good at going through the house backward.

It’s not entirely foolproof. The chair can move a bit, and one night as I aimed for it getting out of bed, it moved and I was left hanging between bed and walker. Couldn’t pull myself up so I decided the only thing to do was go down and sit on the floor. If I had to call for help, so be it. Lo and behold, a major accomplishment—I got myself back up, even using my sore foot. I’ve learned to use the basket for all kinds of things—except drinks. Not only have I spilled two glasses of wine, but one morning I put my tea in the basket and it must have splashed, because I yelped and thought something had stung me. It was the hot tea.

We’ve developed a nice routine.  I’m home alone with Sophie during the day, though weekdays Lewis Bundock, the contractor, is in and out, and he lets Sophie out for me (today she didn’t go out until 5:00 p.m.). About 4:30 Jordan and Jacob arrive, and soon after I have anywhere from one or two other people to a houseful. Tonight there were three children and eight adults, including Jordan and me. These visits tire me out so that I usually sleep well.

No word on the MRI yet but when people ask how much longer I have to have the boot I say I suppose until I can walk on it. I’m afraid of getting addicted to the walker because I’ve noticed a lot of other small problems don’t worry me—my tremor isn’t as bad, I don’t fear falling (except off the walker).

I’ve both let a lot of housekeeping go and relied far too heavily on Jordan to do other chores. She’s arranged for a private duty care person to come and stand by while I shower twice a week. I admit it’s a great comfort to have someone there, handing me towels, etc.

I sleep a lot, but today I got high behind—sorted my entire appetizer folder of recipes (believe me it was thick) and read 190 pages of a book I’m reading for a competition. So it was a profitable day. Hope tomorrow turns out as well. 

I think I’ve been through depression and cabin fever and come out on the other side. Most of the time, I’m relatively content with my days—but I will be glad to be mobile again. Meantime, life is good.

How about a vacation day once a week?

Doesn't that picture make you feel cold? I am horrified by pictures of the snow accumulating in the Northeast. I saw one of a fellow author's office with snow packed against the lower panes of two windows. Made me cold to look at it, and I couldn't imagine working while looking at the wall of snow. All those images all over the television screen make me guilty that I whined today about mid-to-upper thirties and rain at the start of the day. It wasn't as bad as predicted--they said rain all day but it quit by mid-morning and got to about 40. Tomorrow a high of 49. Still, today was one of those days that you could set the thermostat at 80 and still be cold. I vowed not to poke my nose out the door and indeed, when I locked up for the night I realized I hadn't opened my front door all day. I took a nap today and was too cold to sleep, woke up wanting nothing more than to be too hot. Tonight, an extra blanket and a pair of socks. It's that damp cold.
The result of the cold though was a wonderfully productive day--I wrote two guest blogs, my daily thousand words on Murder at the Mansion, and finished gathering together all my tax information--a chore I had been putting off for some time. I'll deliver it to the accountant's office later this week, my week being taken up with a furniture delivery and a visit from the exterminator. Sophie has been barking furiously at the ceiling in the hall--not often but enough to make me believe there's a critter in the attic. Somehow the critter always moves, or Soph always hears it when I'm asleep.
I find that when I set my mind to a full day at home alone, I get so much done. It's amazing. I think I ought to declare a vacation one day a week, to catch up on house chores, desk work, whatever. Tomorrow is not supposed to be a lot better, but I will be out and about again in the world.
For my friends in the Northeast, stay warm and safe and don't work too hard shoveling that snow. For everyone, stay warm and cozy.