Suzy Says

I picked these apples myself!

It was one of those days that turned into an inadvertent cooking frenzy(ette). I started the family Thursday dinner this morning (Megan kindly dropped off the missing ingredients of baby spinach and fresh ginger on her way home from work this morning), and in the course of looking for things in the refrigerator, noticed that there were things that needed some attention.

Some heirloom cherry tomatoes looked a little sad, a red pepper was showing its age, and there was a partial apple and a quarter of a somewhat world-weary lemon.

I added the tomatoes to tonight’s dinner, roasted the red pepper over my gas stove’s burner, and decided to make an apple crumble for dessert.

I set off to my brother’s former residence at the end of the driveway. As I walked through the dust in the bright sunshine, I thought that I’d better enjoy the puff dust while it’s here. It will be mud soon enough.

On my way, I met Mark’s parents, who are visiting here for a couple of weeks from Mexico City. I was astonished to learn that Mark’s father is 90 years old. He looks about 20 years younger. Yesterday, he was helping Mark fill in the water ditches at Jonathan’s old place. Maybe that’s the secret to aging well: keep moving!

I soon filled my basket with apples and headed home, where I used up the leftover apple and lemon to make the crumble. I love using up leftovers.

Tonight’s dinner is:

North Indian Style Spinach Chicken

3 tablespoons canola oil (I used about 1 tablespoon)
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
1/2 teaspoon cayenne
1 large onion, chopped
2-in. piece fresh ginger
4 large garlic cloves
2 teaspoons each ground coriander and cumin
2 teaspoons kosher salt (I put in much less – maybe 1/2 teaspoon)
1 1/2 pounds boned, skinned chicken thighs, cut into 1-in. chunks (I used breasts instead)
1 cup diced canned tomatoes
1 pound baby spinach
1/2 bunch cilantro
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

Mince garlic, onions, and ginger. Heat oil over medium heat in large saucepan. Add onion, ginger, garlic, turmeric, cayenne, coriander, cumin, and salt. Cook, stirring often, until lightly browned, 5 to 7 minutes.

Add chicken and cook, stirring often, until no longer pink on the outside. Add tomatoes and simmer, covered, 8 minutes. This is where I added the cherry tomatoes.

Stir in spinach and simmer, covered, until wilted, about 3 minutes. Meanwhile, chop enough cilantro leaves and tender stems to yield 1 cup. Stir into pot, along with lemon juice. Serve with cooked rice.

When Megan was a baby, one of our father’s grad students moved in with us. His name was Gilbert, and he was from Tanzania. Due to political unrest and other unpleasant things of that nature, his wealthy family was unable to get money out of Africa and into upstate New York.

I’m guessing that his stay with us outlasted his temporary financial embarrassment, since he lived with us for a couple of years. He may even have stayed with us until he graduated and went home.

We stayed in touch over the years, Gilbert-style. No writing, no emailing, just the occasional phone call saying “I’m at the airport – can you pick me up?” or, memorably, “Can you buy a truck for me and ship it? Here’s the money.” Gilbert took Dad with him on safari, negotiating prices for lodging and then explaining to the surprised hoteliers that Dad was his brother. He introduced Dad to the Maasai, who called him “The Old White Man Who Walks Far”. And that was before his knee replacement.

Gilbert sometimes cooked for us – in retrospect, I imagine Dad was quite relieved not to have to cook for seven people every night – and one of our favorite recipes was his Chicken Pilau. I made it this week for our Thursday dinner, perhaps inspired by the very thoughtful gift Megan made for our brother’s birthday. She copied the cookbooks (and accompanying drawings) Dad made for us girls, and made Jonathan one of his own.

Here’s the recipe. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed that little stroll down memory lane.

Chicken Pilau

1 cup white rice
1 onion
2 cloves garlic
2 stalks celery
3 cups chicken stick
Cooked chicken, equivalent to 1/4 bird, cut into pieces
2 sticks cinnamon
15-20 whole cloves
2 tablespoons oi

Chop the onion, garlic, and celery finely. Sauté in large frying pan until tender, increase heat, add uncooked rice, and continue sautéeing until the rice is golden. Stir well to avoid burning. Turn down heat, add chicken stock, and simmer for ten minutes, then add cinnamon and cloves and chicken – this is the recipe of an African friend and there the amount of meat per portion is small. [Note: I just put everything in at once, and it was fine.] Simmer for another ten minutes – when the rice should be tender – or transfer to the oven (medium heat) in closed dish, where it can remain for some time.

I seem to have been assigning myself a lot of dessert homework lately, for some reason. It might be the advent of the Official Month of Death, since its arrival often seems to send me into a cooking frenzy.

I got some rhubarb and strawberries at the farmers’ market, so naturally it was time to make…

Rhubarb and Berry Crumble
With thanks to Jacques Pépin

3/4 lb rhubarb, cut into 2 inch pieces (about 3 cups) [Note: I cut it smaller]
3/4 lb strawberries, hulled and sliced (about 2 & 1/2 cups)
1/2 cup sugar
4 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup granola
5 tablespoons butter, room temperature

Heat the oven to 400 degrees.

Once again, Jacques wants you to mix things in a separate bowl before putting them in the casserole. Since I don’t have minions on staff to wash dishes (or a dishwasher, for that matter), I just mixed everything in the baking dish. He also wants you to add 24 fresh spearmint or peppermint leaves, but it sounds weird to me. If it sounds good to you, though, have at it and let me know how it turns out.

Another thing Jacques and I disagree on is the amount of sugar in the fruit and the granola. I think the rhubarb needs more than 1/4 cup of sugar, and the granola doesn’t need any. But he says to divide the sugar between the fruit and the granola. I put 1/3 cup sugar in the fruit and left the granola alone.

Anyway….

Mix the fruit with the sugar, two tablespoons of the flour and mint leaves if that’s your thing. Place in a baking dish.

Mix the granola with sugar, if you’re using it, the other two tablespoons of flour, and the butter until crumbly. I added a handful of chopped pecans. Sprinkle over the fruit and bake for about 35 minutes, or until the fruit is bubbling and the topping is browned. Jacques wants you to serve it with sour cream or crème fraîche. If you aren’t as selective* as I am about dairy products, you might like it Jacques-style, too.

*Basically, it’s butter and some kinds of cheese and that’s it.

Pie du jour

I seem to have been on a pie kick lately. This one was mostly because I had a big box of blueberries to use up before they went bad. I got some peaches and more Crisco and voilà! I have never made a blueberry peach pie before, so we’ll see how it tastes. At least it looks good.

While the pie was baking, I made a casserole for dinner in our long-lost Thursday tradition. Basically, it’s a Mexican-esque lasagna.Today Megan and Rob went to Willits so he could see the eye doctor, and after that, Meg is getting the finishing touches on her root canal/crown. Those crazy kids really know how to have fun!

Turkey Enchilada Casserole

1 pound ground turkey
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed and minced (or more, to taste)
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 can black beans, rinsed and drained (sometimes I use leftover refried beans)
1 can red enchilada sauce (I used mild*)
12 corn tortillas (if you use flour tortillas, they’ll get mushy)
2 cups shredded cheese (I used sharp cheddar)
Chopped cilantro for garnish

Sauté the turkey with the garlic and onion until thoroughly cooked. Stir in the enchilada sauce and cumin.

Meanwhile, cut tortillas in half. Spoon enchilada sauce into a casserole dish (the one I used was my parents’ and it’s actually older than I am. I love that!), sprinkle with beans and cheese, then arrange tortilla halves on top, overlapping to fit. Repeat until you’ve used everything up, ending with sauce and cheese on top.

Bake in a 400° oven until cheese is melted and casserole is hot in the center, 20 to 30 minutes. Sprinkle with chopped cilantro and enjoy!

*Because food should really come in hot, medium, mild, and Suzy.

Cherry pie moderne

The truth is that I was running out of Crisco and didn’t really have enough dough to make the traditional lattice. I like how this looks, though. And it tasted pretty good, too.

I hate running out of things. I was like that before I moved to Hooterville, where running out of things is much more serious than it is in the city. It’s more than five miles to the nearest store, and it closes at 7:00, so if you’re out of butter or wine or some other essential at 7:05, you’re also out of luck unless your sister happens to have some.

Between us, Megan and I can come up with the ingredients for most things, since she also hates running out of things and we tend to keep our pantries pretty well stocked. And Dad instilled in both of us a horror of wasting food.

Yesterday, we made one of our favorites, ribollita soup. Despite being virtuous to an almost obnoxious degree, being cheap, easy to make, and good for you, it is delicious.

Ribollita Soup

About 3 tbsp. olive oil, divided
1/2 onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced (we used four)
2 medium carrots, chopped into 1/2-in. pieces
2 celery stalks, chopped into 1-in. pieces
1 1/2 qts. chicken broth
1 can (15 oz.) cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
4 whole canned tomatoes, diced, plus some juice (we used a can of chopped tomatoes and most of the juice)
1 cup chopped spinach
4 cups rough-textured day-old bread (such as ciabatta), ripped into 1 1/2-in. pieces (we used Costeaux bakery’s garlic and rosemary crostini)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Parmesan cheese

Heat 1 tbsp. olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add onion and garlic; cook until transparent, about 5 minutes. Add carrots and celery and cook, stirring often, 5 minutes. (We just cooked them all together at once.) Stir in broth and beans, then bring to a boil. If you have some white wine on hand that you’re willing to spare, pour some in! Reduce heat, cover, and simmer about 15 minutes. Add tomatoes and simmer another 15 minutes, covered.

Meanwhile, preheat oven to 350°. Lay bread pieces on a rimmed baking sheet in a single layer. Drizzle with remaining 2 tbsp. olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Toast in oven until slightly golden, about 10 minutes. Set croutons aside. You can see why just buying crostini at the local store is much easier.

Just before serving, add spinach and cook until wilted. Season to taste with salt and pepper. If you have some cilantro or basil, you could throw that in, too.

Divide soup among serving bowls and top each with a few warm croutons and Parmesan. Enjoy!

Our spokesmodel is sporting a pink and white toile hat with wired brim made by her mother

Jessica stopped by Megan’s house of gimpiness yesterday (of the house’s residents, only Ramona the cat and Star the foster dog are not sidelined by some kind of injury) to bring a little sunshine and cuteness to our lives.

She’s getting taller – now “higher than my heart” – and is about the easiest kid to deal with you could ever imagine. She amused herself most of the time, picking blueberries and strawberries from the garden, reading, and playing a Mom-approved computer game with the greatest focus:

Of course, she did this while wearing a head ornament, “because it’s pretty”, which is always a good reason. She also patiently explained the game to me, possibly the only person in the entire US of A who has never played a computer game or X-Box or anything like that.

While Jessica was busy killing zombies, I was preoccupied with making yet another unnecessarily elaborate dinner dish: Poulet au Beaujolais. I used to make it for my Dad, and once I started the lengthy process, I suddenly remembered why I hadn’t made it in ten years. It might be another ten before I make it again. French food is not for the lazy Susan.

While making it, I tried an alternate method of removing the skin from pearl onions. Instead of peeling them raw, I blanched them. This did make it easier, but a couple of layers of onion went along with the skin, so I think that when I make it again in 2020, I’ll just peel them the usual way.

Jessica is over her dislike of onions. I always found it funny that she didn’t like them, since she’d eat (and critique) anything from oysters to lamb tagine to eel sushi. I used to tell her I’d make her onion sandwiches for lunch and she’d run around yelling “No!” Now she’s decided they’re OK, as long as they’re cooked and there aren’t too many of them. But I didn’t make her peel the pearl onions or eat an onion sandwich. I’m not (quite) that mean, no matter what they say.

Birthday pie

Because, really, who doesn’t like pie better than cake?

I have to admit that I kind of threw together Megan’s birthday dinner. I couldn’t think of anything, but then I remembered that she likes a recipe I haven’t made for a while, and I had everything to make it except the chicken broth. So I ventured to the local store in the pouring rain, surprising a flock of ducks (and myself) on the road along the way. The ducks are new residents, and much more welcome than the pig part buffet (now vanished), though slightly more hazardous. Despite the rain, the bull in the field across from the store was in his usual spot, which is always reassuring.

While in the store, I noticed cherry pie filling and decided to make a pie, too. After all, when all you have to do is pour the filling in, it’s pretty easy. So my shopping consisted entirely of cans, which I guess is a step above shopping that consists entirely of sugar (PopTarts and SweeTarts). Sometimes I wonder what the staff at the store thinks of the shoppers. They must know everyone’s vices, since they’re the only store. There’s the guy who always gets beer and potato chips, there’s the cigarettes and cat food guy…

Back home, I put on the oven and put on Janis Joplin to keep me company as I cooked.

Pre-dumpling stew

Chicken Stew with Cornmeal Dumplings

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into pieces
4 cups chicken broth
1 bay leaf
2 celery ribs, diced
3 carrots, sliced
3 potatoes, diced
1 onion, diced
1 teaspoon dried thyme, or a couple of sprigs of fresh
Flour and water for cold flour paste (see directions)

For the dumplings:

1 cup flour
1/2 cup cornmeal
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons butter
2/3 cup milk

Slice and dice the chicken and veggies.

Heat large pot over medium heat (my Dad always said, “Hot pan, cold oil,” so that’s the way I do it). When warm, add enough neutral oil and a piece of butter (a mixture of oil and butter browns best, I think) to just cover the bottom of the pan. Add chicken, celery, and onions and sauté.

When veggies are softened and chicken nicely browned, add chicken broth. Make sure to scrape up all the brown bits. I use mostly Swanson’s low-sodium broth and then cancel it out with a can of Campbell’s, which has the best flavor, but most of your daily requirement of salt, too. Bring to a boil.

Make a cold flour paste. I learned this from my grandmother, and I don’t know the exact measurements, but put about 3 tablespoons in a teacup and add cold water from the tap, mixing all the time until you have a thin paste. Add to broth and mix in. If it doesn’t thicken to your desired consistency, repeat.

When broth is thick enough, add carrots and potatoes (I had some frozen peas on hand, so I threw those in, too) and simmer until tender, about half an hour.

To make the dumplings, combine flour, cornmeal, salt, and baking powder. Work in butter – I use a fork, and then my fingers – until crumbly. Stir in milk.

Drop tablespoons of dumpling batter on top of stew. Reduce heat, cover, and simmer until dumplings are cooked through, about 15 minutes. Serve immediately.

Note: if you have leftovers, remove the dumplings before refrigerating. Seriously! If you don’t, the dumplings will soak up all the broth overnight and then you’ll have to go to the store again.

For example…

When my friend A used to model internationally (that was before she got her PhD in pure math and a job at an investment bank in London, of course), she told me that food stylist was one of the hardest jobs in fashion. I can now see the wisdom of this since I’ve started taking pictures of Thursday dinners. Fun fact: in magazines, ice cream is usually dyed instant mashed potatoes, since they don’t melt under the lights. And turkeys have wood varnish applied to them to give them that fresh-roasted look.

This week’s dinner is from the great Jacques Pépin’s “Fast Food My Way”. “Fast” seems to be a relative term, since it took me the entire length of Iggy Pop’s “New Values” and part of Lou Reed’s “Rock & Roll Animal” to get it ready. I also made some modifications as I went along. Apparently I think I know better than a world-famous chef who has served no fewer than three French heads of state.

Pasta, Ham, and Vegetable Gratin
With apologies to Jacques Pépin

About 1 & 3/4 cups pasta shells or penne
1 & 1/2 cups diced (1/2 inch) cooked ham
3/4 cup corn kernels [I used canned]
1/2 cup peas, fresh or frozen
1 & 1/2 cups diced (1/2 inch) zucchini
3/4 cup grated Swiss cheese
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
2 cups milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan
Salt & pepper to taste

Cook pasta according to package directions. Drain, cool under running water, then drain again.

While the pasta was cooking, I prepped the ham and vegetables and made the sauce. I tend to clean up as I go along, but this has more to do with the fact that my only kitchen counter is three feet wide and a foot and a half deep than it does with innate tidiness.

Now, Jacques wants you to mix the veggies, pasta, ham, and cheese in a separate bowl. You can tell that he has minions to do dishes for him, whereas the only dishwasher I have ever had is Self. So I mixed the pasta, veggies, and ham in the baking dish.

I put the cheese into the sauce instead of mixing it in with the pasta, veggies, and ham. I figured this way, you get better cheese distribution. Also, I used closer to a cup of cheese. Maybe even more. I’m a well-known fromage-phile.

Melt the butter in a saucepan. Jacques uses unsalted butter, which I personally do not believe in, since it pretty much tastes like Crisco, but it’s up to you. Add the flour, and mix it in with a whisk. Add milk, and bring to a boil, stirring with the whisk until the sauce thickens. Add salt and pepper. Remove from heat.

At this point, I mixed in the cheese. You’re supposed to add the cream here, but Megan was out of half & half, so I skipped it and didn’t miss it. I didn’t even add extra milk to make up for it, and it was fine.

Heat the broiler. Combine the sauce with the pasta mixture and transfer to a shallow glass baking dish. Sprinkle the Parmesan on top. Broil about four inches from heat source for 6-8 minutes, until bubbly and hot and the surface is lightly browned. Serve immediately.

Caution: May be yummier than it appears

My unsurprisingly slapdash method of cooking makes it a little challenging to share my recipes with my adoring audience. That, and my father’s legacy of using up leftovers. Dad grew up outside London during WWII, and endured the seemingly endless rationing after it, so he never wasted food. Since I learned to cook from him, I also learned to use up leftovers.

When Dad died, my stepmother’s grandchildren remarked on how they’d miss his “snowflake soup”. No two were alike, since they were made from what was on hand and in the refrigerator on that particular day.

Making the fancily named stew on Thursday morning, I have to admit I felt slightly smug that I made it using ingredients Megan and I had on hand, right down to the parsley from her garden. I was immediately punished for this thought by breaking my nail. You may not be surprised to learn that it was the middle one.

I tried to be accurate as possible in measurements here, but keep the source in mind and adjust to your personal taste. And try to forgive the asides and editorials.

Chicken, Sausage, and Bean Ragoût

1 pound Italian sausage
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut in 1/2 inch cubes
4 cloves garlic, crushed and minced (less if it scares you)
1 onion, chopped
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 teaspoon dried sage
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce (bonus if you can pronounce it correctly)
One 28 oz can of crushed tomatoes
One 15 ounce can white kidney beans (cannelini)
Salt & pepper to taste
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

I usually cook the garlic, onion, chicken, and sausage together at once. Hope that doesn’t horrify you. I used sweet Italian turkey sausage, which I removed from its casings (ew) and squished into pieces, but you could also use smoked sausage and slice it. If you’re a fungus fan, you could chop up a few mushrooms and throw them in.

When everything is cooked, about 10-15 minutes, pour in the wine to deglaze the pan. Now, some people think you should use cheap wine to cook with, but since the alcohol cooks off and you’re left with the flavor, I don’t think you should go too cheap here. Also it’s a good excuse to finish off the already open bottle of wine, unless you’re cooking in the morning, as I was, and the smell makes you shudder.

Add lemon zest, juice, sage, and Worcestershire sauce. I threw in some fennel seeds to accentuate the fennel flavor in the sausage. Stir in tomatoes. I used a can of whole tomatoes, which I cut up over the pot of stew, and a small can of tomato sauce, as well as some chopped up, slightly dented tomatoes I had on hand. Mix in beans, salt and pepper, and simmer for half an hour or so, until flavors blend. Can be made a day ahead. Stir in parsley just before serving, maybe with a salad and some warm bread.

Megan and I had a busy day yesterday. In anticipation, I started dinner in the morning.

I know that sounds crazy, but I knew that neither one of us would want to battle our wholly inadequate kitchenettes by the time we got home, and boy, was I right. I could barely make the effort to open a bottle of wine. Oh, sommelier, where art thou?

I made a fabulous Dad recipe, which Megan always says could win a contest. Despite its hour and a half cooking time, it’s easy to make and you probably already have everything you need to make it:

Braised Honey Mustard Chicken

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, halved
1 onion, chopped (I used Vidalia)
2 tablespoons honey
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon soy sauce
Juice of a lemon (I used Meyer)
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard
Pinch of cayenne pepper
Pinch of freshly ground pepper

Combine all ingredients except the first two in a small bowl. Put the chicken and onions into a casserole. Pour the mustard mixture over the chicken, mix well to ensure that the chicken and onions are well coated with sauce. [Note: I mixed everything but the chicken in the casserole, then put the chicken in and mixed it around to cover with the sauce. One less dish and it works fine.] Cover, ensuring lid is tight, and bake for an hour and a half at 325 degrees F. [I used a casserole which belonged to my parents when they were first married, 50 years ago.]

You’ll think that a couple of tablespoons of honey and mustard won’t cover all the chicken, but it will. And it will make enough sauce, too. You’ll see. Spray the tablespoon with cooking spray before measuring out the honey and mustard so they don’t stick.

I served this with almond rice pilaf and broccoli. We ate it all.

Oddly, though this is in the cookbooks Dad made for both Megan and me, we don’t remember making it (or eating it) when he was alive. I wish we could tell him how much we enjoy it and how we often rely on it for dinner after a busy day. If we ever enter it in a contest, he gets the credit.

Spring green

As faithful readers know, Thursday is my night to make dinner. I like to try new things that day, even though, when you think about it, making something unfamiliar for a tired and hungry audience may not be the best possible idea. Yet I seem to forget this from week to week.

I’ve been thinking that I’ll post the recipes for my more successful Thursday dinners, so here’s the first one.

I got the recipe from the San Francisco Chronicle. There was a lovely story about having this soup in Paris which overcame my doubts about combining Mexican ingredients (chorizo and pinto beans) with Thai ingredients (lemongrass, coconut milk), so I gave it a try. Of course, I assigned myself this soup after a day of running errands in town, and regretted it when dinnertime came, since it seemed like a lot of hassle. Also, this was my first experience with preparing lemongrass, and I wish I’d taken off one more layer before mincing it up.

Other than that, though, it was a party in your mouth. I got the chorizo made on the premises at Harvest that very day, and it was great. Even Rob, who likes food on the less-fancy side (unfortunately for him), loved it and had seconds. He later observed that he would have had thirds if there had been any.

Notes: I was running out of red curry paste, so used about half of what’s called for in the recipe. I also failed to swirl it into the soup right before serving, but the balance of flavors was excellent. I will probably use more next time. I also just put the beans into the soup along with the coconut milk, instead of putting them into individual bowls and ladling the broth over. It worked just fine, as does regular basil instead of Thai basil.

The recipe (and story) are here. Enjoy!

Audrey inspects the bee boots

I got up at 5:30 this morning. For no particular reason. I can’t even blame the cats, even juvenile delinquent Audrey. As I write, they’re both still outside in the 34 degree pre-dawn chill. Just think: tomorrow it will be this cold and dark at 7 am instead of 6! Nice job, government!

I keep telling myself I can go back to bed later, but I know I won’t. I told myself that yesterday, and it never happened. It amazes me that I actually got to work at 6 am, in time for the markets opening in New York, for almost ten years. It seems slightly insane to me now, and also like something that happened to somebody else.

Yesterday, Meg, Schatzi and I braved the storms to go to town and shop, the best form of cardio known to girl. We started at the Feed & Pet, where I personally selected the wild fowl flavor of Taste of the Wild for Miss Schatzi, since she had wild bison and venison the last time. There were baby chicks in incubators, peeping away and just adorable: yellow ones, brown ones, striped ones. They’re a sign of spring, too.

We dashed across the rainy street to the saddlery, so Meg could get laces for her (non-riding) boots, and I wished I had my camera with me, because there was a poster for an NRA fundraiser later this month posted in the window.

Next stop was the Safeway, where Megan ran into the usual number of friends and acquaintances (I think she and Lu between them know half the county – this also happened at the magic show), slowing down the shopping experience, but also making it more enjoyable, as if we were at a local market instead of an enormous chain store.

After that, we went to Harvest Market, where we got another turkey breast for dinner, the last one having been so popular, and assorted other things. Like a shower curtain patterned with goldfish and a plush terra-cotta colored rug for Megan’s bathroom. Instant update for $40! Take that, “Design on a Dime”! She also bought a pair of bright yellow rain boots patterned with bees. Bee boots!

We were amazed that the cute boots came in grown-up sizes. We asked the saleslady for the right size, and she said she was pregnant, indicating a little bulge, but that her associate would be back from lunch in five minutes and he would be happy to dig around in the warehouse to find the boots. While we waited, she told us that she was eight months pregnant and had only gained eight pounds. Also that it was a boy named Liam and that she was never doing it again, pregnancy being a hideous experience. Not beautiful and mystical at all.

The assistant came back and with boots triumphantly in hand and congratulations to the mom to be, we headed out. Poor Schatz was bored out of her mind by now but it was too rainy to walk her.

By the time we got home and decanted all the groceries from the car, it was practically time to start dinner, which was the turkey breast roasted on top of tiny red potatoes, red pearl onions, carrots, and parsnips tossed with very good olive oil and sea salt. Meg snipped some herbs and we put those under the turkey’s skin and put it all in the oven to roast. One dish dinner!

As dinner cooked, Meg put on her new boots and we all went out for a stroll around the storm-tossed garden, drinks in hand. Megan pointed out various plants she is going to put on my deck when the weather gets warmer. We inspected the buds on the lilac tree and the apple trees, carefully stepping over the phone line, which came down several storms ago and now snakes blackly through the garden.

It reminded me of how I used to walk through Dad’s garden with him, glass of wine in hand, when dinner was started and we had a few minutes. His birthday is coming up next week, so he’s been on our minds more than usual lately.

We had a power outage yesterday evening.

Megan was at my house, and we were making dinner from the Book of Dad*. I went to grudgingly throw my green bin contents into the woods (I still think it’s gross and will attract an undesirable animal element, but apparently it makes me a better person and I can use all the help I can get), and when I came back in, the house was dark.

“??”

“The power’s out.”

“Oh.”

I put on the battery powered lamps and Megan called Jonathan, who came over right away. He was slightly delayed by a freaky guy who walked right up to his gate and was ranting about nothing and everything. The guy wandered away, and when he described the guy to Megan, she knew who it was right away. Most of the local crazies end up in the ER at one time or another.

The oven, of course, was still merrily cooking away, being gas, but Henry’s bed, which was in the washer, was not.

Jonathan set up the generator, plugged things in, and soon we had heat and light. Then, like most super heroes, he was on his way.

The power came on before we went to bed that night. There was even enough time to finish washing Henry Etta’s bed and get her settled into it.

*Braised honey-mustard chicken, to be precise. Also broccoli and almond pilaf. It was great. Dad food is the best food.

Yesterday, Megan met up with Lu in Mendocino. I was planning to make dinner* at Meg’s house that evening, and she called me from town to see if there were any last-minute ingredients I needed.

She called me from Lu’s phone, though, because her own had decided to jump suicidally into a public toilet.

Lu, in the next stall, heard Meg’s vocal despair and asked what was wrong. When she heard what it was, she said, “You’re on your own, kid.”

You really are in a situation like that.

Meg retrieved it, dried it off, and treated it with hand sanitizer that she always carries with her, just for occasions like this. Lu reminded her to remove the battery.

I’m sorry to say I laughed when my sister called me and told me about her potty phone.

On the bright side, they were able to assist at a car accident until the ambulance came. Nothing gladdens the heart of an off-duty EMT more. And they demoted my brother to traffic duty at the scene, which made it even more fun. When he arrived for dinner, bearing home-made cinnamon rolls, the first thing he said was, “Hey, you bogarted my call!”

I made chicken with cornmeal dumplings, and we had wine and talked. It was great having Lu there. Her schedule makes it really hard to get together, but now she’s convalescing from her ankle injury, we get to see her more often. She had just had a “cold laser” treatment, which magically removed the swelling and made it much easier for her to walk. Amazing.

As I walked home with my bag – when I go to my sister’s house, I pack an extra sweater, and a flashlight, along with any ingredients needed, borrowed books, Tupperware, etc.** – my flashlight spotlit June, who walked me home under the stars.

*We usually decide what to make by comparing the contents of our refrigerators, freezers and pantries and going from there. The dish with the least ingredients to buy and/or the easiest to make is the winner. Though sometimes we try new things. It’s always more fun together.

**My dream is to have one of those Radio Flyer red wagons to carry things in. But they’re surprisingly expensive. And anyway they’d probably flip over on the puddled, rutted dirt driveway. But a girl can dream, especially at night.

Exhibit A

Thursday night is my turn to make dinner.

Megan finishes her three, 12 hour night shifts on Thursday morning, so she’s too tired to dream up or whip up dinner. I have to say I’m really glad to take that small burden from her.

I usually start thinking about what to make on Thursday on Sunday afternoon. I look through my collection of recipes and my Dad’s, and if I don’t find inspiration there, I turn to Sunset and Epicurious. I love Sunset because it’s written for a Western audience and knows what’s in season here. And Epicurious has recipes from many magazines, including Gourmet and Bon Appetit, all in one place.

Yesterday’s inspiration for shrimp chowder came from Epicurious, and you can find the recipe here. I left out the fennel seeds, thinking it would be too much, and added the red pepper flakes. I substituted half and half for the heavy cream. It was a big hit. I served it with a simple salad of curly endive and radicchio (in the newly-rediscovered wooden salad bowl my parents used when I was a kid) along with a salad dressing I made with garlic, seedy mustard, olive oil, red wine vinegar, black pepper, and tarragon. Add in a loaf of ciabatta from Costeaux bakery, and dinner’s ready!

As good as dinner was, it was what happened after dinner that was really wonderful.

Audrey climbed up onto my sister’s lap, put her arms around Megan’s neck, and fell asleep with her face cuddled up to Megan’s. She stayed there for at least an hour. In the meantime, Henry Etta had curled up* next to me and fallen asleep. Audrey slowly drooped down my sister’s arm while she slept, her face eventually coming to rest against Henry’s back. She stayed like that for a while, then got up, stretched, and curled up next to Henry Etta (see above). They were actually touching!

This is a first, and I hope it’s not the last. Henry Etta is always cold, and it would be nice for her fragile old bones to cuddle up to warm, strong Audrey.

And speaking of old cats: you’ll be glad to hear that Gertie has moved in with Rose’s daughter and is doing well.

*This is a big step forward. She used to just huddle anxiously, even in her sleep, ready for takeoff if anything happened. Also I can now pet her in her sleep without getting clawed.

In the night garden

On Friday night, Megan made her famous Chicken Makhani (Indian butter chicken) and naan (finally using the pizza stone). If you want Indian food up here, you have to make it yourself, and Megan has it down pat. I helped her as best I could, but I mostly got in the way. I was useful for opening wine, though.

After dinner, we left Rob happily watching the original Star Trek*, undoubtedly enjoying the peace and quiet after the gabbling girls decamped to my garden.

It was still mysteriously warm, so we sat by the chiminea with our glasses of wine under a galaxy of stars. We left the sliding glass doors open so we could listen to music outside. The cats were thrilled to be allowed out – much like little kids staying up late on special occasions – and we had the outside lights on at the back and side of the house. We figured they’d be safe with the fire, lights and music.

When we were ready to go in, I lured them in with treats. It was the first time they’d had them since we moved, and they went nuts, especially Henry Etta. Lately I’ve been letting them out after dinner if they want to, as long as they’re back by bedtime. You know how kids need curfews. I’ve also started letting Audrey out when she wakes me up and then going back to bed. Today it was 4:30 am. She didn’t come back until after 9:00. I have a feeling that I’m not going to see her much once summer comes.

*Having now seen a couple of episodes, I finally understand the appeal for high school nerd boys. There seems to be an endless supply of babes in tight and/or revealing outfits with fabulous hairdos. What’s not to love?

The sky was grey and depressing today. There are a lot more grey days up here, and a lot more rain, and this tends to dampen my spirits along with the ground. Even yesterday’s early violet turned to overcast skies. I think we should invent some kind of festival requiring lights and sparkliness and maybe even fireworks to get us through the gloomy hibernal months after the holidays are over and you can no longer eat candy and drink with impunity any time of the day or night.

My brother dropped by yesterday to borrow a couple of movies, and pointed out that I could have left the Christmas lights up if I wanted to. It hadn’t even occurred to me to do that, since yesterday was Twelfth Night and that’s when we traditionally took down our decorations when I was a child. I still think it’s bad luck to take them down on any other day, and given the family curse, I’m not willing to tempt bad luck. Especially since I’m still injury-free so far this year. I even managed not to burn myself on the oven when I put the scalloped potatoes in for dinner tonight.

I make the potatoes the way my mother’s mother did. I couldn’t tell you what the recipe is or the amounts of the ingredients. Megan was fascinated to watch me put together the layers, always in a certain order, and asked me why. The answer was that it was the way Nana always did it. It’s the same reason that I crimp the edges of pies against my fingers and then cut a design in the crust showing what’s in it, such as an apple. I wish I’d asked Nana why she did it when I did still had the chance, but I’m still part of the tradition that was handed down to her. I love that feeling.

Jonathan gave Megan a pizza stone for Christmas. In spite of our usual “no gift” rule, if you see something someone would want/love, it’s OK to get it. No reciprocation needed. It’s all in keeping with our guilt-free Christmas.

I knew the big box was from Williams-Sonoma. I recognized the gift wrapping from the days when I had professionals wrap my gifts, partly because of my innate slothfulness and partly because of my total lack of wrapping skills. But we were surprised and delighted to see what was in the box.

Now, I used to have a pizza stone, but since I couldn’t figure out how to get the sticky, topping-laden pizza onto the hot pizza stone in the oven without damage to pizza or Self*, I gave it away before I moved.

Megan thought that she could put cornmeal on the back of a cookie sheet and the pizza would slide off onto the hot stone, but she also experienced stickiness and general recalcitrance on the part of the pizza, and ended up baking it on the cookie sheet. It was still good, but the stone remains untested, and we were hoping the stone would give us the crispy pizzeria-type crust of our delivery-deprived dreams.

Of course, Rob immediately started thinking of ways he could make a pizza peel from found objects, so I’m sure we’ll experience the pizza stone in the near future.

While Megan was struggling with the pizza I was struggling with Key lime pie.

The pie problem was caused by Megan and me modifying a new recipe into a sort of Thai chicken soup. It called for lime juice, but a whole bag of Key limes was less than two dollars, so we got that instead. The obvious way to use up the leftover limes was pie, and Megan already had the recipe. I picked up graham crackers and condensed milk at the local store and got to work.

When I looked more closely at the recipe, I saw that it called for a pre-made crust. I figured it was crushed crackers and butter and maybe sugar, but in what proportions? I consulted Epicurious.com and found an easy-looking recipe. I started to crush the crackers by hand, but it soon became apparent that this was not one of the best ideas I ever had.

I went to the studio/pantry to look for my food processor. While I was at it, I located the components of the electric juicer. I like to make my expeditions to my house’s Arctic as productive as possible.

The food processor was a big improvement. Once I had the crust in the oven, I turned my attention to the filling. You wouldn’t believe how many teeny limes it takes to make two teaspoons of zest.

Then it was time to juice the limes. They turned out to be inconveniently small for the pointed part of the juicer and kept sliding off. This in turn made the juicer slide around the counterette (it’s too small to be called a counter), so I had to try and hold it down with one hand while attempting to juice the limette with the other.

You wouldn’t believe how many limettes it takes to make 1/3 cup of juice.

By this time, the crust was done and I put it into the refrigerator without burning myself on the oven. Score! The recipe says to chill the crust thoroughly before putting in the filling, but then you put it back in the oven, so why does it need to be chilled?

Once I had the juice and zest ready, I opened the can of condensed milk. I was immediately horrified. Dairy products other than cheese and ice cream disgust me, so you can imagine the dismay with which I regarded the sticky, gelatinous goo that oozed forth from the can of horror.

I mixed the frightful mess together with egg yolks, an egg, the zest and the juice, then poured it into the sort of chilled crust and put it in the oven for 20 minutes.

Obviously, you don’t want it to brown, but how can you tell if it’s done? I hoped for the best when I took it out of the oven. It was kind of jiggly, but I figured the eggs would finish cooking at room temperature. It seemed to be fine once it had cooled, and there were no crust issues caused by lack of chilling, so I still don’t know why you’re supposed to do that.

I’ve eaten a lot of Key lime pies over the years, but now that I know what’s in it, I never want to eat it again. I did take a taste though, and concluded that it needed more labor-intensive juice and zest. But everyone else loved it, and the whole thing’s been eaten by now.

Ignorance is bliss, my friends!

*I’m pleased to report that I’ve been injury free for four days and counting this new year!

Yesterday Megan had a long day, so I volunteered to make dinner. I decided to make a couple of recipes I picked up in Florence: chicken breasts with fresh sage* and lemon-herb risotto, because we had most of the ingredients on hand. I commissioned Meg to pick up the others: mint and Parmesan.

Around 5:30 I headed over to her house, flashlight in hand. The heavy fog danced in the light beam as I walked down the dirt driveway. As I approached a curve, I saw headlights coming toward me and stood back against the bushes. It turned out to be Megan coming home, and I thought it was funny that we met up like that. She thought I had heard or seen her car and then started over, but it was just a coincidence.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I hadn’t made the recipes for a while, so I had completely forgotten how long it takes to make risotto (which is Italian for “delicious”). Of course I had to pick the slowest possible recipe to make for people who were tired and hungry. I really should have started sooner. I’ll remember next time.

Or not.

*It’s always satisfying to go out and pick herbs from the garden. You can pick as much as you like and not waste any. I can never use up the giant bouquets of herbs from the grocery store before they wilt or rot, and always feel guilty, even when I put the leftovers in the compost.

Christmas cookies

Wow. It’s pouring out there. It’s raining so hard I can hardly hear myself try to think. Between the glass roof on the back porch and the skylight in the bedroom, I feel like I’m under a waterfall.

It’s dark enough to have a light on, and I’ve lit the Christmas lights on the banister:

Here’s my little tree. I thought lights on the tree and the banister above it would be too much, so I just settled for ornaments. Now I kind of wish I’d gotten the lights, and also the light up star shaped topper which was on sale at Rite Aid, but still seemed too expensive at the time.

This is my wreath. I put the ornaments on it and I think it’s cute. It’s on the side/front door.

Yesterday, I helped Megan decorate her tree. It’s a living one, and lives outside, so Rob dragged it over near the sliding glass door* of their living room, so we can see it from inside the house. We put on lights and hopefully rain-resistant ornaments, and it’s beautiful. Pretty soon we’re going to have to haul it to the property and plant it in a place of honor. I think I’ll get a living tree next year, too. At least up here I won’t have to see the depressing sight of trees unceremoniously dumped at the curb the day after Christmas.

We also made Christmas cookies. I can’t even remember the last time I made cookies, but it probably wasn’t during this decade. I found a couple of recipes in the Chronicle which looked intriguing: Russian tea cakes and molasses-black pepper cookies. It was a butterpalooza, I tell you what. Megan made calzones from scratch during the baking process, so the house was toasty and warm.

Later Jonathan came by after work, and we all ate calzones for dinner and enjoyed the sparkling tree, glowing in the darkness.

*It doesn’t actually slide – the house has settled too much. Not that it’s scary or anything. Also it will be really hard to get their furniture out when they move, since the only other door is about half the width of a regular door. And purple.