Kids, cooking, and writing--the stuff of Judy's Stew

The mail brought a delightful surprise today--Lisa had a 2012 calendar made on Snapfsih--all adorable pictures of their adorable children, Morgan and Kegan. When I wrote to thank her she pointed out that she had annotated it for all the birthdays in the family, anniversaries, and major holidays.  I'm always looking for ways to keep track of birthdays, so this will be perfect. And besides I can look at those bright faces.
The same mail brought another bonus--the new issues of Southern Living and Bon Appetit. Two in one day! Work went out the window while I browsed--reading recipes in magazines is absolutely high on my list of favorite things.
Southern Living has, for instance, a whole spread on pimiento cheese. I have only learned to like it in the last few years, but now I love it. I have made good pimiento cheese at home but I also have a favorite "store-bought" brand--Palmetto cheese (not the kind with jalapenos added, thank you). It has cream cheese and just enough red pepper bite. Jordan has turned up her nose a pimiento cheese for years, I suppose because she wasn't raised on it (nor was I as a northerner). But she eats a lot of this if I put it out for an appetizer. That brand was mentioned in the article, along with several others. And there are directions for several varieties--and a pimiento cheese/bacon sandwich. Be still my heart. And how about chutney chicken salad? Yummm.
Bon Appetit this month is devoted to southern cooking--even directions for caring for that cast-iron skillet you can't live without. The last time I followed directions for re-seasoning my skillet, I thought I'd ruined it. But scrubbing stubborn bits with Kosher salt makes sense to me. And skillet-fried chicken sounds heavenly. I've never been successful at frying chicken but this may make me try again.
And writing? Tonight I talked to the mystery class in the community classes program at TCU. My friend Shari Barnes coordinates it and I'm sure it's her leadership that makes it such a lively, funny group. The session was filled with laughter--and some penetrating questions that I had to think about. General concensus: they liked Kelly a lot, so there to to book reviewer who thought she was a cold snob.
What a nice day! Now back to work, but I'm not through with those magazines. That was just the first go-throiugh.

What are your dream goals?

Today, "Writing Well is the Best Revenge," one of my favorite blogs, was about unreachable goals, inspired by Diana Nyad's failed attempt to swim from Cuba to Florida without a shark cage. When she had to give up, she said, "I was the best I could be." Each of the eight or nine bloggers talked about their goals and, of course, for many of these multi-published authors, publication of that first book was the primary goal. Others confessed to goals that involved physical risk, while still others shunned such an idea. I commented that, although well published, I always wanted to publish a mystery. With that goal in sight with the forthcoming publication of Skeleton in a Dead Space, I guessed that my goals are to turn that one book into a series and then move on to a really significant book, not that I know how to judge "significant."
On the blog Hallie Ephron's goals particularly struck me. She confessed to wanting to make a quilt; she started the project and ended with a handbag. But most of her goals had to do with cooking, and the one, so far unreachable, is to make an eight-layer dobos torte (she's made a five-layer one). I noted that I shared her cooking goals, but after I posted my comment I got to thinking that I don't really know what my cooking goals are. There's no one dish I want to make--I did think of turducken--not even a complicated Julia Child's recipe I want to master. There are however lots of recipes in my file that I want to try--Southern Living came yesterday and I cut out several recipes.
It dawned on me that my one unreachable goal is to be a chef. I suspect at my age I lack the energy, and I know my feet and back couldn't take the long hours on hard floors. But I would love to have a small tea shop-kind of restaurant where I would have people to eat the things that strike me, by whim and fancy, that I want to cook. It's an impractical goal for many reasons, and I know it--the failure rate of restaurants is astronomical and at this advanced point in life I'm not risking my finances. I once took an informal course in restaurant management that convinced me I know nothing about managing a restaurant. I just know the cooking. Several years ago when I was working full time but dissatisfied with life--okay, bored--I decided I would go to culinary school, until a friend reminded me of the high cost, long hours, small reward.
So my reachable goals have to do with writing. There's already a sequel to Skeleton waiting for the publisher's approval. It's called at this point No Neighborhood for Old Women. And I have the first chapter of a third book in the series--as yet untitled. I've been dragging my heels on that, waiting to hear about the second book, but I do believe it's important to have series titles come out in fairly rapid succession. Don't give readers time to go off in other directions and forget your work.
As for cooking, Jordan tells me she and her family will eat with me at least once a week when school is in session and I keep Jacob in the afternoons. So next Tuesday, I'll fix Salisury steak, oven-fried potatoes with rosemary, and a salad. And I've got a dinner party in my head. I told Gayland Poole last night if he'd make thje chili biscuits, as he was promising, I'd cook the dinner. Yep, my mind is never far from food. Maybe it should stay closer to my writing.

Guests and cooking, cooking, cooking

This morning I piddled, spent the entire morning doing this and that around the house, including finally emptying the bird feeder with wet food at the bottom. Turns out the wet food had turned to concrete. It was an inexpensive feeder, so I threw the whole thing away and will get another next year. Another result of all the rain we've had! But I washed kitchen towels, napkins and place mats, did my yoga, answered emails, set up for tonight's happy hour, and before I knew it, it was lunch time.

It dawned on me I haven't been out of the house except to the garbage bins and dog's yard for three days (I can hear my brother grinding his teeth), but I've had a stream of people--my lunch guests Sunday, Jordan and family Sunday night, twelve or thirteen women for happy hour tonight--so I've been neither bored nor reclusive. I have done a lot of cooking, but in retrospect I'm not happy with it. I didn't really think the soup I served Sunday was that great nor the salad, though Jordan emailed today that the salad was delicious for lunch, so maybe it was okay. I threw both recipes out. Tonight the women who contributed to Grace & Gumption: The Cookbook gathered for a group photo for the back of the book. Last time, we had our picture taken on the porch, but it was gloomy, rainy, and cold tonight. We pushed the library table away from the couch, some sat on the couch and others stood behind. Wywy the cat made it into the picture, sitting contentedly on the lap of my friend Carol, who knows and loves Wywy.

Tonight's happy hour was potluck, so we had everything from dips and fruit salad to macaroni and cheese, a tossed salad, and a dump cake--you dump everything in, all the batter ingredients and put a can of fruit on top; when it cooks the fruit goes to the bottom and a cake rises over it. I made a dip with Velveeta, Rotel tomatoes, and mushroom soup--and scorched it. I could taste it and said so, but everyone else said it tasted good and I should have kept my mouth shut. Still, I pitched it tonight. I have pitched a lot of food this weekend, cleaning out my refrigerator, and I wish I'd learn to plan better or choose my recipes better or something. Haven't figured out what to do with the rest of the soup but I suspect it will go in the garbage tomorrow. The woman who brought salad tonight wanted to "pitch" the leftovers before she left and was astounded that I don't have a disposal and simply put things like that in the trash. I explained about the pipes in my old house and how they didn't handle disposal waste well and I kept having to call a plumber, but I'm not sure she heard me. And I suspect many women today think they wouldn't want to live without a disposal and wouldn't trade the charm of an old house for convenience--but I sure would.

I did actually read all the notes I've made on my novel today plus emails from Fred Erisman, who's read it carefully, so I'm ready to start reading the manuscript. But I have to finish the Crombie novel first. Meantime, Southern Living came in the mail and that always means I drop everything else to look at the recipes.