A cooking failure and a lovely evening

My Easter table

What do you do when it's the Saturday night before Easter and you're alone and having a pity party? Why cook yourself a good meal, of course. So that's what I did. But it didn't quite work out. First of all, I generally don't like tilapia. But I found a recipe that sounded good--poach it in wine, make a cream sauce and top with sauteed mushrooms. Of course I fiddled with the recipe--no way I'm putting two cups heavy cream in a sauce, so I added a small spoon of light sour cream. Of course I didn't let the cooking liquid reduce enough--impatience!--and I didn't as the recipe said thicken it with cornstarch or flour and water. Result was a runny sauce that did nothing for the fish. And guess what? I don't like tilapia. The aspargus was good, but I've been eating on the same bunch of aspargus all week.
I decided chocolate and chardonnay fix anything, so I took both of those, with my Kindle, out on the porch. Lovely evening. As I came out the door, a small gray and  white kitty skittered away from my monkey grass--hope she's not someone's lost baby. Then I sat and stared at squirrels, who are my enemy because they ruin my porch plants. The big old elm in front of the house has a huge knot hole in it--one  year we sat and watch birds fly in and out. They had built a nest there and were feeding babies. Tonight squirrels were in and out of it. Do they build nests? The world does not need more squirrels, at least my corner of the world.
I got my chili book as ready to send off as I can today, and the book on my pile is dark and depressing--a holocaust survival tale with a twist. Not what my mood needed. So here's the glory of an e-reader: I ordered Carolyn Hart's newest Death on Demand book, Death Comes Silently, and read until it grew too dark. Then I came in and filled the deviled egg shells--gosh that filling is good!
Mood much improved now.
For those of you who celebrate Easter, may you have a blessed day tomorrow. If Passover, enjoy that. I've lost track of how far into Passover it is, but I do have fond memories of seders more raucous than reverent. But I'm sure the intent was there, and I think seders are meant to be joyous. How I'd love some good, crisp, hot latkes!
Table set with my Easter china--check. Eggs deviled--check. Dishes out to cook lamb and vegetables--check. I'm all set for Easter dinner. So glad to share it with Sue Boggs, her children and her parents as well as Jordan, Christian, and Jacob. And maybe my Colin--what a treat even a brief visit from him will be.

Easter Glories

This morning, my email brought me the most dramatic picture ever of a sunrise--all reds and golds and purples, taken from the sender's porch. Surely an Easter sunrise picture. That was followed by a link to a video of Carrie Underwood's rendition of "How Great Thou Art," my favorite hymn of all time. What a way to start Holy Saturday. Jacob asked if I knew "the Easter song" and I sang the first lines of "Jesus Christ is Risen Today, Alleluia." Turns out he had in mind the song about hopping down the bunny trail! The birds outside my kitchen window have been singing their little heads off all day, as though they too know Easter is tomorrow. On a more practical note, I wonder if they knew a storm was brewing. Scooby definitely knew and is hiding in his bed, as thunder begins to roll in.
When I was young I sang in the youth church choir--no comments needed from those who know I can't carry a tune. We sang an anthem that began, "One early Easter morning/I wakened with the birds/And all around lay silence/Too deep for earthly words." I can hear the melody in my head, though I can't sing it for anyone--and won't try. I emailed a lifetime friend from those days, and she too remembers those lines--but that's all. My friend Betty, a church organist for forty-plus years, has never heard of it. If anyone can give me more information about this piece of music I'd be grateful. (My singing is so bad that when I called my oldest son the other day on his birthday and offered to sing, "Happy Birthday," he declined--and Jacob has been known to put his hands over his ears if I sing.)

My Easter table is set, with my mom's Suzie Cooper china that she adored. I mostly only use it at Easter, because the colors are so right for spring. Over the years I have given lots of big dinners, often for about twenty. So I don't know why dinner for eight boggled my mind all week (we added a ninth person yesterday and I decided to squeeze four people on one side rather than unset the whole table to add another leaf). I worried and planned and other things went on hold "until I get past Easter." It's honestly an easy, cook-ahead meal (Christian's parents are bringing the meat), so there's no reason for me to be so uptight. I'll fix two appetizers (crudities with a dip and fromage fort--which is really fort or strong), potato salad, fruit salad, rolls, and the ice cream pie is in the freezer. My neighbor is bringing a bunny cake.
It's supposed to rain and storm tomorrow--shades of Easters in my Chicago childhood. I had planned to have a mid-afternoon happy hour on the porch but now am uncertain. Hope Jacob and his friend Eva don't have to hunt indoors. Good Friday should be dark and stormy, and Easter should be full of sunlight. But, hey, I'm not in charge of that. All I have to do now is go clean some radishes and make cucumber sticks.
Want to make fromage fort? This "strong cheese" is a recipe from Jacques Pepin, who said his father would use up odd bits of cheese this way. Take those leftover cheeses in your fridge--about a pound--and add three or four garlic cloves, a heaping tsp. coarse black pepper, and a half cup dry white wine. Whir it all in the blender until it's a spread. Serve with crackers. I had quite a bit of romano this time, some cheddar, and something unidentified (maybe manchego). It's really pungent but so good. If you use blue cheese, it's good but changes the character of the whole thing.

Easter musings

It seems self-centered of just plain wrong to say that so much is going right in my world, when there is so much gone awry in the world at large, beginning with the people who lost homes in the Fort Davis and PK Complex fires. It will be years before life returns to normal for some, and small businesses will suffer from the absence of tourism. I pray for strength for all those affected. Someone once wrote that you should pray not for what distresses you but for what distresses God. That can set your mind to wandering the world, from Haiti to Iraq and Lebanon, with Libya and other places in between. Of course I sincerely believe that the Lord is distressed at what our state and national governments are doing--on Capitol Hill, a big issue these days is how green to go. No more paper cups. Crockery anyone, so you can get on with running the government?
But my world, as I said, is good. Wywy, my cat, is eating voraciously, peeing a lot (good sign for a cat with his kidney disease) and pooped today for the first time since he was at the vet (pardon if that's too much information, but I viewed it as a small triumph). He is enjoying life--sat in the middle of my class of women last night and "allowed" them to love on him, sleeps on my bed and, if I'm there too, curls up close to me. Sure, I'm realistic, but it's nice that he's still himself for a while.
Jacob is happily watching TV, having eaten a good dinner and three chocolate cookies. His request for another was denied on the grounds that I don't want him swinging from the ceiling at midnight.
On Easter, Jacob, his parents, and I will go to church, and then I'll cook a mid-day meal for them, Jacob's other grandparents, and my neighbors. We'll have an egg hunt but will miss the noise and fun of all the cousins--one little friend is coming to hunt eggs with Jacob.
I just made an ice cream pie, which Jacob thought looked wonderful. I froze it just a bit and then pressed cookie crumbs and sugared chopped nuts into the top. Proudly called Jacob to look at it, and he asked, "What happened to it?" Oh well, lose some!
I have edits to my mystery to work on, which is fun for me. So yes, it's a good world.
Whatever your faith, may you relish this springtime season of renewal.

Palm Sunday--and a bit of calm

I went to church today for the first day of Holy Week--and Jacob went with me. He didn't mean to. He wanted to go to day care, but when we got there--late, of course--the room was empty. The four-year-olds had gone to walk into the sanctuary with their palm fronds, which I think Jacob would have been too shy to do anyway. So he went to church with me. He was intrigued when the choir sang and when a children's choir--some his age, I swear--sang. He lasted through the opening hymn, weekly remembrances, welcome and response, pastoral prayer and Lord's prayer--though during the prayers he began to mouth to me that it was time to go. Later I told him when people bowed their heads in prayer, he must be extra quiet. But after the Lord's prayer, we went to the four-year-old class and found them in their classroom, so I slipped back into the service. It was comforting to me to hear the message that Jesus had come to bring us all God's love and forgiveness. I sort of needed that in this week of bad news. On the way home, Jacob told me he really liked the singing, and later when I began to sing something to him he put his hands over his ears. I told him I thought he liked my singing (which is always off-key) and he said he did in church but not at home.
We had an early but pleasant supper on the porch. I made chicken bundles in crescent rolls--you mix chopped, cooked chicken with cream cheese and green onion--and I added salt, pepper, and Worcestershire--and make four bundles out of one package of rolls. Then top with crushed seasoned croutons. Delicious and easy. Jacob even asked if I would make it again. To make sure Christian had enough, I gave him all the leftovers from last night in addition to the chicken bundle and the salad that Jordan made.
Tonight I'm deep into edits of Skeleton in a Dead Space. Hope to get it back to the editor by the end of the week, though with a large Easter dinner looming that's a bit problematical. But I'm enjoying doing it. Easter already? It's hard to believe.
For those of you who follow Holy Week, may you feel the joy and anticipation of this greatest of Christian holidays!

Life gets in the way

My youngest grandson, Kegan David Alter, when he opened

the package of Star Wars figures I sent for his birthday. That is life at its best.

I did not work on the great American novel at all today--or yesterday. My excuse is that life gets in the way. Too many things to do. Today it was errands, menu planning for a friend's b'day dinner this weekend (a challenge since she and her husband are gluten- and dairy-free) and for Easter, when I think there will be nine of us. Menu planning is one of the joys of my life--it's like cooking in anticipation, and I relish it. I won't detail here but will report if some of my experimental recipes turn out well--liked naked (no tortilla) chicken tacos with tomatillo sauce, or vinegar-based coleslaw. I went by the office, then to CVS to buy plastic eggs and jelly beans (and ended up spending $45--how does one do that for plastic eggs and jelly beans?). Then off to buy a pair of canvas shoes to wear around the house--threw the old ones away with great ceremony. They were down to their last threads, the soles worn through in places, and they smelled bad. Also bought myself a pair of Easy Spirit walking shoes.
Tonight Easter has claimed my attention--spent a good while filling 36 large plastic eggs with jelly beans to drop off at the church for Saturday's egg hunt. Christian and I will be taking Jacob, along with a picnic lunch. Then I got small--really small--Easter packages ready for the out-of-town grandchildren, a b'day present for Lisa, and cards for various other people. I think that all was the $45 but I now have a lifetime supply of unwrinkled tissue paper. I don't know about you, but I save it and when I pull it out of the bag to use in a gift, it's so wrinkled I'm embarrassed. Got lovely pastel shades today.
Last night's program on Elmer Kelton for the Burleson Mayor's Club was a success but with a glitch. I reviewed Elmer's life and accomplishments for the audience of about 50, stressing the way being the son and grandson of working cowboys and then an agricultural journalist had shaped his approach to the people of West Texas and the land. Jim Lee took over to lead a discussion of The Time It Never Rained--only nobody discussed and the poor man worked really hard for 30 minutes. I maintain it was because the facility--the Burleson campus of Hill and Texas Wesleyan colleges--is in a former church building, and the lecture hall was the sanctuary. There we were with soaring beamed ceilings, beautiful stained glass, church pews--who discusses in church?
I'm hoping for a better outcome tomorrow when I talk to three junior high groups at a Burleson school about my novel, Sam Houston is My Hero. But I know from my oldest granddaughter, kids her age aren't into history--they're reading The Hunger Games and Stephanie Meyer (two of the books most often challenged on censoring lists). As Maddie's mom once told me, if I could make Texas history into a vampire story with paranormal elements and love gone awry, she'd be all over it. I keep telling myself I'll pretend I'm talking to Maddie. I emailed her for advice--shoot, I even need wardrobe advice so they won't think I'm an old lady (which I am)--but she hasn't come up with anything. Tomorrow will be a long day but, I hope, a pleasant one.
And then maybe I'll get back to writing--but wait, there's the Easter egg hunt Saturday and Saturday night's dinner to cook . . . .

An Easter/Birthday celebration

I'm just back from Houston, where all of us celebrated the second b'day of Kegan, the youngest among us, and the upcoming 40th b'day of Colin David, my oldest child--no, I cannot believe I have a child of 40. With eight adults (ten one night) and seven children, it was controlled chaos and wonderful fun. I'm not much of a photographer, but I tried--the picture on the top left is Colin (and behind him his father-in-law John), next most of the children gathered around one table for two kinds of cake--Kegan's chocolate and Colin's favorite yellow cake (always drove me wild when he was a child--I want chocolate!), then Maddie, the oldest child, doing some Karioke--she has a charming voice, and I wish now I'd asked her to sing "Michael Rowed the Boat Ashore" And finally my four grandsons, ranging in age from a couple of months shy of five to the two-year-old, three towheads and Jacob with his dark, curly hair--and inability to stay still for more than two minutes. The children all play well together and are delighted to see each other--as I watched them digging in the huge sandpile yesterday or hunting from eggs (hidden in plain view, of course) in the rain this morning, I thought what rich memories they are growing up with. Maddie, at almost nine, is by far the oldest and is the self-appointed caretaker of babies--she cuddles and loves when they cry, changes their diapers when needed, puts them on the potty, dresses them, and seems to enjoy it all. And she and three-year-old Morgan sleep all in a tangle on the pull-out bed in the living room. And then, a thoroughly modern child, she is off to her hand-held computer games.

Lisa, Colin's wife, knocked herself out cooking, and we ate royally--eggs and sausage Sat. morning, grilled hot dogs Sat. noon, and Doris casserole (which I've mentioned here before) Sat. night--Colin's request. We also had Colin's queso: a note about that below. And this morning, sausage and Rotel quiches and that wonderful potato casserole made from frozen hash browns--everything in it you should not eat but oh! so good.

I had been a bit apprehensive about the trip--now I view that as babying myself, but I was so tired much of last week that I was afraid of getting tired. I went to bed early both nights, slept long, and got a two-hour nap Sat. Colin said he felt bad about putting his 70-year-old mom on an air mattress but there wasn't much choice. I had confined quarters in his already overcrowded study, and it was fine except that my hips discovered they really don't like air mattresses. For much of yesterday, one hip didn't seem to want to work right. But I still slept pretty well and am not nearly as exhausted tonight as I expected.

I noticed an interesting thing. Maybe because of my just-past pneumonia, but my kids are--well, careful of me. The boys, Colin and Jamie, are always there to see if I need an arm to lean on and almost always I say, "Thanks. I'm fine." And in passing each child gives me a pat on the shoulder, a quick rub on the back, some much appreciated gesture of affection, and I try to return them. I was always being urged to sit and rest, until I felt useless, and I was always given the stable good patio chair and not one of the collapsible ones--even if it meant moving a semi-protesting grandchild. I love the attention and the affection it reflects but I don't want them to start thinking of me as old--or letting me think that way. And that's why much of the time I say thanks but no thanks to the kind offer of an arm. Of course it was a bit much as we left today when I said I had to go back and get the muffins and water I'd left--Colin volunteered and came back waving the muffins and a bottle of white wine. "Is this what you wanted?"

A word about Colin's queso: a friend gave me this years ago (she has now forgotten it) but it is the best queso ever, heavy and hearty enough that I used to serve it to the kids for supper when they were in high school:

Brown 1 lb. hamb. and 1 lb. ground sausage, breaking up clumps as you go (your choice to use hot, mild, or regular sausage)

Put in crock pot with

1 lb. Velveeta

1 medium jar Pace Picante (again, your choice--choose hot, medium or mild)

1 can cream of mushroom soup

When melted and ingredients are blended, serve with corn chips. Enjoy!

Easter nostalgia

I'm feeling nostalgic tonight for Easters of the past--when my children were little and egg-hunting was the most exciting thing they ever heard of, and even for my own childhood in Chicago where I always had a frilly spring dress and ended having to put a winter coat over it. Tomorrow Easter in Texas will be cold and windy with possible but not probable rain. We're not having the kind of big family Easter I like, with everyone gathered around my table (I need to get over the feeling it always has to be MY table!). Since Jamie and Colin and their families were here last weekend, they've understandably declined to come back, and Megan has houseguests. Jordan decreed that if Jamie wouldn't come here, we'd go there so Jacob can hunt eggs with his bigger cousins. So we'll do that and then go on to Jacob's parents' house for lunch. A kind of hopscotch Easter--and no church, about which I am also nostalgic. I can carry the meaning of Easter in my heart--and I hope do--but I miss the music, the ritual, the sense of joy and rebirth, and the community of worshipping together.
Another bit of my nostalgia crumbled this morning when we took Jacob to the country club for the annual egg hunt. I had told Jordan I'd meet them in the lobby. Redundancy! There were 10,000 people in the lobby, including quite a few grandparents. I was particularly struck by the little girls in organza and ruffles and all kinds of finery--to go out in the damp grass and look for eggs. The whole thing was a madhouse--when we finally were released into the egg area, Jacob wandered about aimlessly, having no idea what he was doing--and bigger kids had swept away all the eggs, even though they were supposed to be separated into age groups. My impression, perhaps cynical, was that all those preppie moms and dads, now into their thirties, were pushing their kids toward the "perfect" childhood, complete with video cameras. But of course, there were my kids with a video camera--but at least Jacob was casual in his jean jacket. Christian muttered that next year we'd hunt eggs at their house and everyone could come for lunch. A good idea--I'll cook the ham, since I'm sure Jordan has no idea how!
I did have my own Easter dinner tonight--Coho salmon with a buerre rouge (not the best buerre rouge ever but it was my first--and it tasted pretty good), a stuffed baked potato with smoked salmon and chives (funny how often smoked salmon turns up on what I eat--I had eggs and salmon for breakfast, and a salmon/cream cheese/tomato sandwich for lunch--good things it's healthy for you!).
The Scots have gotten precious little attention from me today. I'm reading a mystery, and I made two trips to Central Market--Jamie called tonight to ask if we were bringing candy, and I assured him his sister had gotten it. Then I called her--she never thought about candy to put in eggs and only got candy for baskets. I had a certificate for $10 free bulk candy and my receipt proving I'd spent the required amount this morning, so back I went to Central Market. Tonight I'm going to continue that mystery and be really lazy.

Deletion, seders, Easter and cold weather

Here's a first: last night I came home from church and wrote a post. I was in a good mood and thought once I logged on the words would come. What came was dull drivel, but I forged on and posted it. This morning I thought about it--in the grocery store of all places!--and decided to delete it, which I did. In its entirety. For those few of you who might have read it, apologies.
But lots more interesting things are going on than I seemed to have on my mind last night.
For one thing I was at church for the annual Maundy Thursday supper, which this year we made into a seder-like supper. (Not being Jews, we could not in good faith do a real seder--and besides they take about four hours, and we had to cram everything into 45 minutes!). But we served food that would be traditional at a seder--roast brisket, oven roasted potatoes, green beans, and salad. No bread, no croutons. Matzoh on the table, and macaroons for dessert. A plate on each table held the traditional things of the seder plate--bitter root (horseradish), hard-boiled egg, salt water, parsley, charoset, and a bone. A minister explained the meaning of the things on the plate and the parts of the seder, including leaving the door open for Elijah.
Oh those bones! I'm chair of fellowship at the church so the seder was my responsbility but I delegated to good friends Dick and Kristi Hoban who did a terrific job of organizing. My responsibility: charoset and bones. Charoset (spelled a variety of ways but I always thought pronounced haroses) is a mixture of ground nuts, diced apple, sweet red wine (yes, Mogen David), and cinnamon. Unfortunately, I made enough for the entire tribe of Israel, and we threw bunches away. The bones were worse--every seder I've ever been to had a small clean and dry bone on the plate. So I called Central Market, ordered 12 shank bones (we figured on that many tables). When I picked them up, they were huge bones from legs of lamb, with red raw meat still clinging to them. I brought them home, roasted them, cleaned off what meat I could (I probably could have made lamb stew!), and roasted them again. They still looked awful, and Jeffrey, the Hobans' 14-year-old son, thought they were dinner. "Is the church having financial trouble?" he asked. We had lots of wonderful volunteer help in cleaning up, and I'd call the evening a success.
My ex-husband is Jewish, and the evening brought back many funny memories of seders--like the half-Jewish man who came to our house one year and said, "I've never been to a seder before. I have the feeling I still haven't been to one." And then there was the night my brother pointed out the cat was eating the gefilte fish I'd carefully laid out on serving plates. Jamie used to love gefilte fish, so one year recently I got some for him. He tasted it, looked at me, and said, "It doesn't taste like it did when I was a kid."
At Central Market, I laughed at myself. I was buying bones for a seder and ham for Easter, surely a contradiction in terms. But today it's all about Easter. I've boiled two dozen eggs--one for dyeing and one for deviling, made a marinated veggie salad and am trying to soften butter to make mustard butter. Tomorrow I'll make southwestern twice-baked potatoes, a fruit dessert that sounds so easy it's sinful, and the deviled eggs (always sounds like a pain to me to devil a dozen eggs!). The Frisco Alters will come in the afternoon, and I expect the girls to dye eggs.
And Easter Day, though it makes me a bit sad, I'll miss church. Going to church alone has been hard for me lately, and I particularly don't want to do it on Easter. Between that and having family here and preparing a big meal, I'm just not going to try. I'll listen on the radio, particularly when our church choir does the "Hallelujah Chorus." We'll have nine adults, two children, and Jacob, who will crow his way through dinner, which is set for noon.
It's going to be a cold Easter. I was used to that in my childhood in Chicago--I can remember having frilly, summery Easter gowns and having to wear my winter coat over them. But not in Texas ! It is however supposed to come close to freezing tomorrow night, with the possibility of snow flakes. I called a neighbor to ask him to bring in my basil--it was drooping, and I decided it did not like the cold. He wasn't home, and I struggled it inside myself, along with the hanging basket of impatiens--don't know that I can get that back up myself on Sunday. We'll hunt eggs inside, but I had thought to send the girls and one adult to the schoolyard to play while the Easter bunny hid the eggs--may not work.
I hope the blessings and messge of love of Easter reach everyone, those who believe in it and those who don't. The love is still there.