Trivia Sunday

 

Maybe that's a tad too many haricot vert

Talked with a friend, slightly older than I am, on the phone, and she confessed that she’s falling a lot. About once a week. I told her she needs a walker, and she said, “Oh, I have one. It’s in the garage.” I told her it would do her no good there. I get so frustrated with people who won’t use walking aids when they need them—whether it’s from vanity (who wants to look old?) or convenience. She claimed the walker was hard to handle, so I sent her an Amazon link to the one I call my chariot. Honest, I wouldn’t, couldn’t be without it. In the four years I’ve used it, I have not fallen once. As long as I have my purple chariot, I walk with purpose and confidence. And I try not to bend over it—my surgeon said if people do that, they slap them upside the head!

Food experiments go on. In an effort to enlarge our vegetable choices and get away from asparagus as the only fresh green we eat, I marinated and roasted Brussel sprouts. Christian liked them, though he said they weren’t as crispy as the ones at Pacific Table. I flat did not like them. Honest, I tried. I remember eating them as a child, and I don’t think I liked them then. Now that they’re so trendy and popular, I went at it with an open mind, but no banana.

So I said I’d try fresh green beans—you can do a lot with them and keep them crisp and good. Christian’s immediate comment was that he doesn’t like them as well as canned, because that’s what he grew up on (he opened himself to all kinds of comments there, but I restrained myself). Then he said, “They’d have to have the point-y ends removed.” Really? Who served him untrimmed green beans, unless they were haricot vert—maybe those tiny French green beans are what I should try. Once a friend of mine who prides herself on being a plain and simple country girl, was served those at a fancy country-club luncheon. She didn’t like them; I explained they were a delicacy and told her the name. Her retort was, “I don’t care what you call them. They’re beans, and they’re raw!” Vegetable suggestions would be welcomed but I have a long list of forbidden things—peas, sweet potatoes, any squash, etc. Jacob loves broccoli; Christian hates it as badly as Nixon did—or was that the elder Bush.

Reading trivia: I just finished a cozy mystery that will go unnamed. I chose it because it is set in a town that I am sort of familiar with. Not, however, familiar enough to recognize anything much. But it is a debut novel, which showed—the author explained all her red herrings. To my mind, you write red herrings in to make the reader think of possible perpetrators, but you shouldn’t explain them—takes away the fun. Also, the author spent way too much time in the main character’s mind, reviewing possibilities and why this one or that could be the murderer. Again, something the reader should puzzle out. It amounts to telling to much—and padding to up the word count.

So now I’ve started the newest book in the Wine Country Mysteries, The French Paradox, by Ellen Crosby. I’ve enjoyed others in the series and looked forward to this one. The opening line is, “I found out about my grandfather’s affair with Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis when I read my grandmother’s diaries.” An auspicious beginning.

An almost perfect spring evening tonight—lovely temperature, just a tad too much wind. Kids had gone to Joe T.’s to eat with Christian’s family so Jean came over, and we ate al fresco on the patio—Italian style tuna sandwiches. Tuna, hard-boiled egg, and salsa verde (garlicky with anchovies, so good) on artisan bread. Recipe called for a baguette, but this was much better. Only one problem—Jean wanted a small sandwich, a piece of bread maybe two inches at best, so I followed suit. It was not big enough to hold sandwich ingredients. Tomorrow, for lunch, I will go with more a more generous hunk of bread.

Another week ahead. Hope it’s a good one for everyone.

Playing hookey with recipes

My vegetable recipe collection

I never claimed to be neat or organized

 

 

I played hookey tonight and had more fun with what to me is a delightful pastime--looking through recipes. I have my personal collection sorted into types of dishes, each in its own folder. Tonight I was looking for a light salad supper for friends and a layered salad to feed the multitudes--I've promised to do that in a couple of weeks.
Going through my "Vegetable" folder is no quick or small chore. The folder is at the least four inches thick, and tonight I spent an hour or more fingering every recipe. Found amazing things, and was determined not to give up until I got to the end. Sometimes I'd find a recipe I really treasured but have no immediate use for--yet I know to find it next time will take me another hour. I need a professional assistant to do many things--including computerize my recipe collection. The scope of the project boggles my mind almost as much as organizing my bookshelves.
Apparently my curiosity went in spurts, because there'd be a whole group of cauliflower recipes (which I'll eat but don't much like), and then a bunch of Brussel sprouts recipes, with broccoli scattered through. You could almost do a timeline by the recipes in that folder--though some I think of as fairly new have sifted to the bottom. Still at the back are congealed salad directions--mostly congealed gazpacho. Does anyone make congealed salads anymore?
I found several recipes from our late and beloved Aunt Reva--asparagus casserole (canned asparagus but I remember loving it), really good pinto beans, and a chili rellenos casserole that Colin  loves and Lisa fixes to this day. Some from my mom, though most of hers are in my entre folder.
Every time I go through recipes I try to be hard-hearted about what I will and won't cook--and tonight I threw away lots (maybe a quarter of an inch). Like chicken liver salad--dated. Sounds good to me, but I don't know anyone who would eat it with me.
There are countless recipes for potato salad, but I am fixed on one or two that I really love--and so many seem to repeat each other. Threw those out. Also tomato pie--sounds so good but has turned out so unsatisfactory every time I've tried it.
There's a recipe for finger Caesar salad that Jordan and I loved. It was, I think, the original way Caesar salad was served--a dollop of dressing at the base of each Romaine leaf. You picked it up with your fingers and ate it.
You'd be surprised at the variety of layered salads--an antipasto one that calls for roast beef, when I expected salami; a Cobb layered salad; and what I think of as the traditional--with ham, peas, lettuce, Swiss or cheddar, hard-boiled eggs, etc. Another dishes from the past but sometimes I long for it.
As for that casual salad supper? I'm leaning toward tortellini salad with smoked salmon.
Now the evening's gone, it's too late to start something new, so I'm going to read.

The vegetable challenged

Sometimes it seems like I am surrounded by vegetable-challenged people. My two sons-in-law are the worst offenders, with a long list of vegetables (and other foods, like tuna salad) they won't try. Megan, who was vegetable averse as a child, eats almost any vegetable, and Jordan is getting much better, eats asparagus but still no spinach. Jacob adores broccoli but isn't adventuresome about many other vegetables.
Last week my neighbor, Jay, announced he was NOT eating cabbage. The only vegetables that I can think of that I won't eat are parsnips (my dad loved them, not sure I ever tasted them) and okra (it's a texture thing). But I love most vegetables--including spinach, turnips, and eggplant. Okay, I don't much like turnip greens but love raw mustard greens in a salad and steamed beet greens.
Tonight I fixed a cabbage casserole. When I announced that a few days ago, Jay said he had decided he had to "man up" and try it. Actually it's much like stuffed cabbage but without all the work. I once or twice fixed original stuffed cabbage where you soften the leaves in hot water, stuff and roll. Got the recipe from someone who grew up with that cuisine--eastern European. My younger son really liked it, and I found a recipe where you stuff a whole head of cabbage, hollowed out, and serve it in wedges. Made that several times because it was easier.
But this casserole was really easy and has the same ingredients: ground beef, chopped cabbage, chopped onion, rice, and tomato juice. Because the first time I made real stuffed cabbage, I was told to use lamb, I substituted it for beef tonight. Even Jay said it was good, and he'd eat it again. I worried about a side since the main dish had all the food groups, but I had broccoli and cauliflower left in the fridge, and I cut them into sizeable pieces and roasted them together with olive oil and a bit of white balsamic vinegar. Good meal, if I do say so--and hearty.
After dinner we sat around talking about the Kardashians and Bruce Jenner--I couldn't believe the conversation at my dinner table had gotten so trite (and boring!). Then, poof! everybody had to rush off to get home in time for "Downton Abbey." I threatened I might never cook for them again, and they said I should just cook earlier. Are they spoiled or what?
Of course I'll cook again--tomorrow night. I'm making my version of sloppy Joe while Jay and Jordan move furniture and unpack the new TV which is to arrive tomorrow. Jay invited Phil and Subie to join us, but Subie said she had an absolute aversion to sloppy Joe because when her mother made it, it had all that orange grease on it. I told her (repeatedly) that this recipe is really a wine casserole, and I just call it sloppy Joe. She finally allowed that she might come, especially when I reminded her there would be leftover cabbage casserole. See? I really am surrounded by picky eaters--need to find new guinea pigs.

Solitude, with vegetables

Yesterday I spent the entire day at home, in my nightgown, no makeup--I did wash my hair. Other than brief conversations with my brother and my youngest daughter, I didn’t talk to anyone but the dog. Believe me, I talked to her a lot. It wasn’t all bad—I got back to work on my novel and feel good about it. And the long day made me most grateful for breakfast, lunch, and dinner plans for today.

But last night, in an effort to divert myself, I decided to make the cauliflower cakes I’d found a recipe for. They sounded good, with lots of cheese, and I had the cauliflower in the fridge, so I set to work on it. When I got the batter or whatever ready to fry, I knew I was in trouble. The mixture had eggs for firmness but it needed some sort of filler, like bread or cracker crumbs. Too runny. The cakes didn’t stick together and were almost impossible to turn. Plus they didn’t brown well and didn’t look too appetizing. No, I’m not showing a picture but should anyone want one, I have cauliflower cakes for Cox’s Army in my fridge—and they are big because I didn’t have the patience to stand there and cook lots of small cakes (that may have been part of my problem). The one I ate was pretty good--needed more salt, but it was flavorful. I probably won’t eat the rest and after a few days they’ll go in the garbage—the few days will assuage my conscience about wasting food.

But the whole thing made me think about vegetables. I am surrounded by vegetable-challenged people. My youngest daughter is medium picky—no squash or zucchini, just learned to like asparagus, doesn’t like cooked spinach. I can count on one hand the vegetables that both my sons-in-law like. Christian is particularly fond of canned green beans, so I dress them up with vinegar, bacon and onion. He loves it.

Sunday night I had company for supper but had the forethought to ask one neighbor if he eats spinach. His reply was that he loves it raw in salad but won’t touch cooked greens. There went my main dish—layers of cheesy polenta (like cheese grits, I guess) filled with spinach. I still plan to cook that sometime, but I needed to cook a hot dog dish and photograph it for a guest blog, so I made German potato salad with hot dogs chunked up in it. My three guests all professed to love it.

To me the logical accompaniment was cabbage, and I had seen a recipe that called for buttering one side of cabbage wedges, sprinkling with onion and garlic salt and wrapping in heavy-duty foil. You were then supposed to put them on the grill, but I didn’t want to ask anyone to fire up the grill, so I put them in a moderate oven. I thought it was good, and the spinach-challenged friend said he liked it. Don’t know if he had his fingers crossed or not, but he ate most of it. But one of the other guests took one bite, at my insistence, didn’t touch the rest, and asked me not to tell his wife, who is traveling, that he didn’t eat his vegetables.

Cooked cabbage and cauliflower are not generally on my menu, but I like the idea of expanding my repertoire. Now if I could just figure out what to do with kohlrabi and get over my hesitance about kale.

I will keep experimenting with vegetables. The solitary days not so much.