Category Archives: Editorial

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Lawyers and Recipes

Posted on June 17, 2013 | 1 comment

This site and a particular young writer on this site was vilified and threatened with lawsuits several years ago. I asked the company that owned a defunct magazine if I could print one decade-old recipe, with attribution. I was refused and was threatened with a potential lawsuit.

Now people (see Slate.com) are asking if jokes can be patented. The lawyer said I couldn’t print an entire cookbook in my name if I stole it from someone else. I have rules against plagiarism, ingrained from birth, so this blog only gives you my best new stuff and my ancestors’ old stuff. If someone copies it from any of these, I won’t bother to sue. I do expect a thank-you, however, an attribution, a note on your blog.

How about this? I made it up this morning and sent it, yes the entire trifle bowl, to work with my husband, my newest creation:

Rhubarb, Berry and Brioche Trifle

A neighbor gets a surprise package from her community farmers’ market every week. She gave me about eight stalks of rhubarb, that she doesn’t like.

I cleaned and sliced the rhubarb into 1/4 inch half-rounds and placed it in a large pot with about 1/4 cup of water and 1/2 cup sugar and let it simmer for about 20 minutes, then cooled.

I’d bought a loaf of brioche and got 2 pints strawberries, 1 pint each blueberries and blackberries. Also a quart of heavy whipping cream.

After the brioche was roughly cubed, I prepared the berries, slicing the strawberries and mixing everything tenderly by hand so assembly would be easy. Three cups of lightly sweetened cream (2T sugar) was whipped with a tsp. of vanilla.

I started the trifle with 1/2 inch rhubarb, added 1/3 of the loaf of brioche, topped with rhubarb, whipped cream and 1/3 of the berries. Add two layers, top with berries, cover and refrigerate.

Some folks want to eat it right away. I prefer to wait a bit. Wait a minute, I didn’t get any! Luckily there was a tablespoon of whipped cream in the bowl and a handful of berries. Who wouldn’t love that for dessert? Dee

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Attention: Shoppers

Posted on June 13, 2013 | Leave a comment

Do not read this. I committed a grievous crime, more than one, actually, against the people of England and Scotland. Thank goodness my time there never induced me to commit similar infractions in Wales or Ireland (north or south).

OK, read it, it’ll up my numbers. But don’t send me hate mail!

My husband was sent overseas for six weeks, which means double that time as we’d been through this before, so I came along. The bulk of our time was spent in Scotland. I had a friend there and we traveled twice a week and visited many castles, museums and churches.

Time was getting short and we were in London for a week. I was tasked by a dear friend to get the smallest Harrods signature bag, it must be blue and have the logo. It was to be her Yorkshire Terrier’s “luggage” for clothing, hats, treats, clean-up bags et al. Don’t even talk to me about that dear dog’s wardrobe, Suffice it to say that she had more handmade couture than I ever did.

I wanted a large Harrods bag, and another friend was perfect for the medium sized bag as a gift. I didn’t want to make a day of Harrods so decided to visit Kensington Palace (an expensive mistake as it was run down and dingy) then got caught in a downpour without an umbrella but did have a lovely lunch on the grounds of the Palace.

Harrods did not beckon me that day. I went right by it en route back to our flat, got on my then-new laptop and ordered the three bags and had them sent separately to me and the other lucky recipients. A portion of the time I could have spent at Harrods was more wisely spent at the Queen’s Gallery at Buckingham Palace where I finally got to see Artemesia Gentilleschi’s self-portrait, a masterpiece of Florentine Renaissance art.

As to the Scots, the Queen’s Gallery at Holyrood in Edinborough was expensive and a lost day, but I was on a monthly state-issued museum pass so OK. My friend and I did visit a distillery in the area long-frequented by Robert Roy MacGregor and his clan. We tasted a ten-year and twenty-year old scotch whisky that was aged in Spanish sherry casks.

A gentleman from work was taking care of my husband’s team and projects during his absence and I wanted to reward him with a bottle of Glengoyne.

We flew for 12 weeks to Glasgow and London with two suitcases, two laptops and my purse and were determined to come back with nothing more except a few gifts for friends, colleagues and family. I emailed my local specialty wine and spirits store while overseas and, lo and behold, they held a bottle of Glengoyne whisky for me. I picked it up upon return, boxed it and my husband brought it to work. No duty, no Customs hassle.

It probably makes sense that my husband uses Amazon for practically everything, including toilet paper and paper towels. Why spend time in the car and in stores when that time could be better spent?

If I had slim, dainty feet I might shop all the time and have a closet full of Jimmy Choo’s, Unfortunately my mother was correct, if cruel, when she said that instead of buying my sister and I each a pair of shoes for the school year, she should get two pair for my little sister and let me wear the boxes. I still think that genetics have more to do with the shape of my feet than running around outside in the country barefoot for four months of each year.

Ah, shopping. I do love a good grocery store, butcher or fishmonger. Girlfriends know not to call me for fashion or shoes. Enjoy the day. Dee

ps How did I get to this? I found my Harrods bag up in the front closet and took it to get my husband lunch. When we first moved in my husband thought it was full of trash (it was not) and threw it in the dumpster. Yes, my dearest love went dumpster-diving to save my Harrods bag. I washed it and it was fine. D

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Pointers

Posted on June 12, 2013 | 1 comment

Yes, you’ve all been to a museum and seen a painting of a Pointer showing it’s owner/handler the location of the prey so that it can be flushed out by the Retriever. I think that’s how hunting goes, but failed riflery at age 12.

This is actually about pointing. While preparing dinner I heard the audio and missed the video of a science show that was talking about pointing.

It said that children learn it early, dogs understand it but primates do not.

The key to this is that they say pointing is essential to teamwork, and we’re all about that. I point, you look at me, look at the direction to which I am pointing and voila, we just saw the bear or lion that’s come to kill us. Teamwork.

Think about it. Laser pointers, Kanban boards. It’s all about pointing. If I throw a ball for my dog and she’s busy meeting a new dog, I just point at it and she goes and gets it. For my old dog, she didn’t like balls at first so I had to start out by tossing her favorite stuffed animal. As she got older she knew every car in the neighborhood so when my sister visited she heard the diesel engine and had a basket full of stuffed animals and would go crazy finding the right one with which to greet her!

I adopted another flawed (had to take out her hips) dog for the past ten years and she loves chasing a ball but nothing like a tennis ball or stuffed animal can be left anywhere near her at home because she’ll tear it apart in seconds.

Primates cannot point? I find that unusual and must look it up further. I do get the teamwork philosophy. Write back and I’ll look at what you want me to….. Point taken, Dee

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Why I Write

Posted on June 11, 2013 | Leave a comment

Me = cute baby

Smart, cute kid

Really smart, awkward kid

Sit in the back row, keep your head down kid

Don’t try out for vocalist spots when you are second chair violin and tune everyone’s instruments every day.

Get called in by the music teacher and be forced to sing intro to Bridge over Troubled Waters in front of my entire family, friends and their families.

Make sure you have two sisters and a brother and get paid for babysitting.

Learn a bit about what troubled waters mean when it comes to parents.

Be a jerk in high school because I didn’t want to be smart but I did beat a guy in ping pong and he told me I should have let him win because he was a man. I knew even then that no real man would ever say that to me. I’ve doubled my husband’s score in bowling and we both did badly and laughed about it.

Learn a a bit in college and have professors that matter and help stitch the world together. Make them priests, Franciscans who are the protectors of animals.

Take off after working for a few years, for Europe and learn even more. My work taught me volumes. I’ve always cared for people and animals and this made me want to do even more.

Quit and become a lobbyist. Yes. I did. Then I quit and became a non-profit consultant helping organizations find their missions and visions and donor bases.

Volunteer. I can’t tell you how many years or hours I’ve volunteered. That’s neither here nor there but is a good part of my life.

Agitate/aggravate. Yes I became a volunteer political advocate for a cause dear to my heart, one that led me to meet neighbors and have children yell out my dog’s name when I walk into our park.

Cry when my dog dies and the entire neighborhood gives a tree to the city in her memory and we all water it in a ceremony. Think Nat King Cole and sing “Smile.” That’s my old dog.

Marry. Meet the man you want to talk to over breakfast for the rest of your life. Make sure his mother is your second best friend (next to hubby, of course).

Get a dog. Hubby asked about children and I said no, we have to get a dog first. We have to find out how bad you are. He’s BAD. He spoils her rotten and would never let a daughter out the door until she’s 40. All the while he’d have a workshop with the son and shoot off rockets and do other chemical experiments that hopefully would be downwind of the house and land on our property. Yes, he has asked if he could blow stuff up. Those were my parameters. He’s a physicist so can control things.

So we got the dog at six weeks with coccidia and hookworms. And she had bad hips that had to be taken out as a pup by our dear cousin Val the Vet.

Ten years later we’ve lived in eight places (two were right next door to each other). If anything builds character, it’s moving. I grew up with it and have renounced the theory that everything has to be put away before we all go to bed the first night. That’s Dad’s thing. Of course he wanted to get to his new job right away so we were left to do it alone. Don’t ask my husband about this. We still have a few boxes and it’s been a year.

Now we’ve been married over ten years and look for some peace. You only have a bit of the story here. We’re happy. My husband’s parents could have insisted on an “and Sons” sign and brand but wanted their two boys to go off to college and make their own way in the world. That, they did.

I forgot one important thing. Get a brother. I did. It took a few years but as long as I don’t have to break down a deer or a wild hog, I’m the sis he never had.

Family and friends are important. Childhood memories I’ve never shared are key in my life today. With respect to all those we love, Dee

ps Dad, there are two round steel wool marks over our stainless steel microwave. Remember when I was cleaning the whitewalls on your ’64 Buick Special Coupe? Yes, I found tar on the door and used steel wool to remove it. You …. well you weren’t very happy about my ruining the paint. If they try to charge us for this infraction please tell them I learned my lesson about steel wool and steel/paint at age eight. Thanks, Dad. Yes, I love you too. D

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Friends, Romans, Countrymen

Posted on June 10, 2013 | 2 comments

lend me your ears.

Today there was drilling going on with high pitches that only our dog Zoe could hear. For over an hour, every time I heard the drill I covered her ears with my hands so she could be calm and endure the sound.

Julius Caesar once said that “I had rather be first in a village than second at Rome.” He also said “experience is the teacher of all things.”

What I would have given to have just those two sayings before I went off to college at age 17. A few decades later, I’ve worked in villages to make change, and have had much life experience.

As a baby and toddler, I always had problems with my ears, and had my tonsils out on my 4th birthday to alleviate it. My last bout with an ear infection was at age 12 when a doctor put a metal rod through my head. I vowed never to get an ear infection again. Even though I was a fish in our and other pools, I always had swabs on hand.

For the past week, I’ve had water in one or both ears, no swimming involved. Yesterday my husband bought me a tiny glass bottle with a glass dropper, so I can make a solution of isopropyl alcohol and distilled white vinegar. The alcohol dehydrates the ear and the vinegar restores the Ph balance, according to his research.

We’ve been married for over ten years and that he does this for me is amazing. One thing that keeps us together is that we both keep our ears open, listen to each other, debate opposing views, and agree or agree to disagree.

I am certain that Julius Caesar would have conquered the Americas had he known we were here. Britain did, for a while. And we did a great injustice to both the Native Americans we pushed out, and African Americans that we brought in.

My family has not even been here 100 years, we’re all born here but are from immigrants. My ears are always open for all points of view. Every night our dog gets down from the bed, gets under it right under me, then whines once to be lifted back up. It’s dark, she’s tired and has no hips, and my “mommy ears” hear her. Our block could be leveled and my husband would still sleep.

My ears are open. If you have something to say, I’ll hear you. No spam or sex url’s, please. Cheers, Dee

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Corners

Posted on June 10, 2013 | Leave a comment

The other night I made pizza, homemade from crust up of course. I always stretch the ingredients to the corners. Tonight in the oven is my nacho mix to at least get my husband’s palate going. Everything goes to the corners because they matter.

I stretched the vegetarian beans and cheese over the chips and will add tomatillo salsa after it comes out of the oven. I made sure everything went out to the corners.

Why the corners? I was a corner for half my life. I got the empty corners, then started coming out of the corner when I was 30 and started standing up for myself, my family, my business, my clients.

I adopted a corner dog after spending a year visiting her in the shelter as a valued volunteer. She’d been abused by a deputy sheriff so mistrusted men, uniforms and kids who used to throw rocks and sticks at her, oh, and anyone in a hat.

Before she died all the kids and moms in the tot lot would call out her name and come out to pet her. She even got to know our neighbor who usually came out in a tee shirt and shorts, but sometimes put on camo or even dress whites, USN of course. All the neighbors got together and gave a tree to our park in her memory, my former corner dog.

My first cat in 1987 was kicked off the 7′ shelf on which he was born. He was flown to me across country to this avowed “dog lady” and sprung upon me, “surprise!” in NYC. I had no idea what to do with a cat, so I learned, quickly. He was a corner cat, who came out of his shell a few weeks after his arrival at five weeks of age, and talked and talked (Burmese /Siamese mix) and I never got the last word in  for 13 years until I had to let him go. He died in my arms, no longer in the corner.

I was so shy in school I sat in the back, pretended to be dumb, and would never try out for a solo for chorus. All when I was second chair violin and had to tune everyone’s instrument every day. Corner gal. No longer.

Today I see “corners” with promise and help them along, whether human, canine or feline. There was a day when I had someone in the neighborhood to take care of rescued birds, iguanas and snakes. I’m leery of the last sentence but do my utmost to help anyone who wants to help his or her self break out of the corner.

The only corner I want to be in is a corner office! We’ll see. In the meantime this cook is a mentor to any “corner” person who needs a “thumbs up” and make life happen moment. Cheers from Dee

 

 

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Nelson Mandela

Posted on June 10, 2013 | 1 comment

Some ask if it is time to ask this 94 year-old dignified man to die. I say it is time for him to live.

Live through his compatriots, his family, his country that finally after years in prison, embraced him as their leader.

Even if he lives to 100 or longer the country must he brought together and must stay together.

There is no time for tribal differences. Great strides were made in decades that cost some nations centuries for change to come to pass.

Please revere the leader that Mandela is, and honor him by pledging to keep his dream alive. With all my heart, Dee

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Tea for the Tillerman

Posted on June 10, 2013 | 3 comments

As I age I realize some things I learned, and many I did not in my birth to 18 stage of life.

I had a good education in my hometown, then we moved below the Mason-Dixon Line and I was supposed to shoot a gun in gym class, as well as take classes that taught me nothing. When I moved back North, I had to take French and History and Math all over again, then won a scholarship. Small, but useful.

There were two gyms in the South, the boys’ had a gleaming wood floor. We had concrete topped with cheap tile. We got shin spints. The boys shined, as did their wood floors until a remodel was due.

When they wanted to re-do the boys’ gym, we were relocated for two months, mostly to portable classrooms so they could use our gym. Then we were actually sent to a dance studio where they played Cat Stevens.

Tea for the Tillerman. No-one taught us. We danced on our own because someone in the administration found out we were languishing in portable classrooms when they were required to teach physical education.

While I don’t know why the former Cat Stevens changed his identity (perhaps once again, because no-one names their kid Cat) I do remember him and how his music saved me from boredom in the early years.

Perhaps this was my early leadership training. We had no structure, so I made one of girls being themselves. In later years I was elected gymnastics captain two years in a row and still I was very shy and uncertain of my abilities.

When I write and remember these difficult and proud days I think of kids today dealing with drugs and bullying. We never locked our house or cars. Now I am religious in doing so. I lock car doors manually, so that someone cannot get my car code, even though we’re in a locked garage.

There was a day in 1972 when I listened to Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” and it was Pop but it got me into folk, rock, country and got me a guitar at age 12, another at age 50. My heroes are Bob Dylan, Joan Baez. Johnny Cash, Marty Robbins, Alan Mills, Burl Ives and many others including fabled Western entertainer Juni Fisher.

Who were your musical mentors? Even if you don’t write them down, think about them as I think of my violin, piano and voice teachers. They always hold a special place in my heart. From the happy wanderer, Dee

 

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Ask Nanny?

Posted on June 8, 2013 | 1 comment

Every year (except one when a retailer wouldn’t let anyone from the company off on Thanksgiving or Black Friday) we have gone to Nanny’s for Thanksgiving.

It is a daunting event with the doyenne, the matriarch of the clan, holding court for over 60 members of the family and guests.

The first year, two months before we eloped, I was interviewed by Nanny for 45 minutes. Jim’s mother’s “interview” lasted four days. Nanny said for me to make sure Jim gets a gold watch after many years of service, and I told her he doesn’t do that kind of work, he does software.

I was also interviewed by everyone in the family and spent 12 hours without one glass of wine answering questions about whether we were getting married.

After we wed, my husband told me food wasn’t required of any relative who came from any distance, especially those who flew in as we did. I brought spiced almonds and pecans, an old family favorite from my family, and made a spiced cream cheese boursin with fresh herbs from my MIL’s garden, for the kitchen table.

The counters are full of turkey, ham, brisket, and any number of sides that have grown so the desserts now fill the dining room.

The next year I added my mother’s spinach balls, an old 70’s recipe, then gave the recipe to the newest wife in the family, who has made it her own. Recently I’ve added a brussels sprout and cauliflower gratin to the mix that has been a hit all around and especially with vegetarians.

This year I may have Nanny judge my new entry. It’s a work in progress but based on a corn custard with chorizo and cheese. When Zoe awakened me at 2:22 this morning the first thing I did was go to the frig and take out the corn dish, and place it on the counter so I could warm it in the oven for us to taste.

Most of the 60 bring a dish. I’ve taught cooking classes and now bring nuts, boursin, Brussels sprout/Cauliflower Gratin, and perhaps chorizo “grits.”

Our Aunt A organizes it mostly, now, with her daughters and grands. A while ago all the original “grands” took some time together to tell stories. Wonderful!

Yes, we’re flying in. We’ll come in early. Jim’s mother and I cook for days and while they wanted to keep our Zoe outside the first year (I threatened to stay home to care of her myself) she is now a treasured indoor member of the farm family and is counted upon to clean up kitchen spills as we make them.  Ode to corn, Dee

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Dogs and Groceries

Posted on June 8, 2013 | Leave a comment

I wrote this before, but WP didn’t save or print it. Apparently a $13 bill had to be paid and we paid $50 elsewhere for this account’s domain name so I messed up.

That’s what blogging is all about, correct? A niche blog with 10K readers per year and no monetizing is an anomaly? Well, your comments are always welcome here and I haven’t made a nickel (haven’t tried) for six years now. This blog is a way to introduce you to my life, cookbooks and pantry and write.

That said, I left my dear 9 1/2 year old dog at the grocery store the other day. I never take her to the store because I’m worried someone will take her. She’s so sweet that if a kid reached into her bowl and took some of her food she’d just stare at me, those sweet brown eyes saying “Mommy, she just took my dinner!”

It took me two minutes to get home, a minute to dump the groceries on the kitchen counter and run back to get her. I was gone about four minutes. After running, as soon as I saw her I composed myself and walked slowly towards her. She had been sitting, looking for me. As soon as she saw me, she started sniffing around and perhaps eating some grass.

She’s been paying me back all week. She has no hips and cannot get onto our bed so she jumps down and lies underneath it, under my side, then wakes up an hour or two later and sits by my side of the bed and whines, once.

The mother in me answers, and gets out of bed and lifts her back up. My husband has actually slept through a Category 5 hurricane, with Zoe the dog, while I stayed up all night.

If it’s 1:00 I may get back to sleep. Three o’clock and I need to get up. That’s my punishment for leaving her, first and only time in nearly ten years, for four minutes. They had to grind meat for me and I picked up a few other things.

For now, I’ll stick to the car. She has an  orthopedic bed back there and other accoutrements and loves being on the road. Water, snacks, food, all veterinarian-approved. Plus I can open the windows and give her fresh air, without her being leashed to a bicycle stand. Sorry, Zoe! Love, your real mother, the one who researched taking out your hips and who has fed and walked you 10 years.

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Posted in Editorial, Pet