Category Archives: Editorial

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Dear Postmaster General

Dear General Brennan,

I sent a very special package to my father in Indianapolis for his 84th birthday for delivery yesterday. It was sent priority mail and required a signature. I was told after many hours on the phone that the post office cannot deliver this package (they tried once at 1:18 p.m. yesterday) unless they place a coral form out for re-delivery.

My Dad flew today to the nation’s premier cancer center. I wanted him to have this gift yesterday. Now it is in limbo, as neither my post office nor Indianapolis will allow me to get it back or have someone else pick it up or send it to my Uncle in Indianapolis.

Dad may never come back. Your rules are archaic and cruel. He got the equivalent of a “gold watch” and I framed the article for him. Now USPS won’t send the package back to me, allow someone else to pick it up or allow receipt to a family member in his neighborhood. Tracking number is 9**************.

My Uncle, in Indianapolis, is willing to accept the package and give it to Dad if/when he returns from cancer treatment. If not I would like it released immediately to me at my home address, and before October 6 when they will return it anyway without ever having to try to re-deliver. We paid for priority mail and are being treated very badly by your system.

No matter how many ads you put on television, people appreciate and pay for service. My dog looks for blue pants with a dark stripe because she loves our postal carriers. They all know her. But the system is messed up.

My Uncle’s  residence is *****************************. He has arranged for me to send it there, if he or a member of his household over 18 years of age is present to sign for it.

I will have this letter notarized and hope it is enough to get this gift to my ailing father. With thanks for your consideration of my request. If not, I’m willing to get a court order to get this package back or drive to the post office that is holding my father’s gift, show my Passport and demand it back.

Dee

Learning and Teaching

I’m getting older, but still like to learn something new every day, or every week.

Now I find myself teaching rather than learning and would love to keep doing both.

My father is older and he has always taught me. Perhaps I’ve taught him a few things over the years as well. My husband and I teach each other, and so do our families.

At my age, soon to change another year, I embrace teaching as well as learning. One learns wisdom, hopefully along with knowledge, throughout the years. I always think of myself as a young thirties thirsty for knowledge acolyte.

It is funny that I’ve always been a teacher, but never a real teacher. My aunts, professional English teachers, would be proud. They had a dictionary on top of the commode in the powder room (guest bath) and when I returned I had to have a word I’d never known, spelling, noun or verb and use it in a sentence.

Twice their age when they were teaching me, I’m teaching others. I’ve been doing so for decades, from kids learning gymnastics from me when I was 16 until now. I just didn’t recognize how much I had learned that I could offer others.

Retired, I only give guidance to those who appreciate and use it to their own ends. All volunteer, of course. I still love learning and will until my dying day. Cheers! Dee

Montreal

Poutine. Thank you, Montreal! My mother was from there, as was her entire family.

She never made this dish for us. I read about it and didn’t think it would work. French fries with brown gravy and melted cheese curds. I never thought about it, never tried it.

Today I’m in a cheese state (I’m always in a state that makes and likes cheese) and I ordered 1/2 of a Poutine.

Can I tell you how delicious this is? I’m getting old and not even my Canadian cousins ever had me try this dish. Shame on all of us. I’ve missed out on this dish for so many years, it’s a disaster.

For a last meal, I would now like many things I’ll get to you in the future, but Montreal is on the list with poutine, and a smoked meat sandwich on rye with deli mustard. That’s only my Montreal list. More to come. Cheers to David Sax of Save The Deli! Dee

Weddings

Fourteen years ago my now husband threw me into his family’s Thanksgiving pool for 12 hours and didn’t come and see me once. There were sixty people and I was bait.

Two ladies came up to me, M and S, and asked if I would go with my boyfriend (fiance but no-one knew because we had to meet all the parents) to a new city. I was wise enough to say, “that depends upon my last name.” I tried to keep my last name but gave in.

M’s eldest daughter is getting married. I remember teaching her and her cousin cooking classes when they were kids. First time we met, her cousin looked at my shoes and said “Nanny has shoes like that.” Sassy. K was shy and kind. I always thought she had big thoughts she didn’t share.

I’ve a beef with the future husband. Two, actually. There will still be 50-60 at Thanksgiving but he hasn’t run the gauntlet I did. Interviews with Nanny and my husband’s parents. And as a guy he’ll never have to make a pie or wash dishes. He’s immune because he’s a guy, so he gets to watch the Game. The Game, Aggies. Well, there’s a third. My husband’s cousins M and S put him down their laundry chute once. I think we have to rent out their old house for an hour and place the new husband down the chute. Come on, the gals who bake, cook, make 100 dishes for Thanksgiving then clear plates and do all the dishes then make you leftovers six hours later and do those dishes deserve something!

Sorry my little M. Bride to be, very soon. I wish you and your husband everything for a wonderful life. And we’ll try to be kind on Thanksgiving. In praise of marrige, its freedoms and restraints. Dee

Chick Magnets

Here is the tie my husband is forbidden from buying!

Cool tie my husband is not allowed to buy

Chick Magnet Tie

We have been very happy with all the ties we have bought from this company.

Discount code for 15% off sitewide: DEE15

Mr.Rishi who owns The Dark Knot has always been extremely helpful.

Old Friends

The week we got back from our elopement “honeymoon” I got a out of the blue call from an old friend. A really old friend, a grade school comrade.

Transporting back to one’s youth is interesting. At age ten, he knew I played violin and carved me a wooden violin as a holiday ornament to place on our tree. He was too shy to give it to me. Yes, he told me that 13 years ago.

Now, after many years from grade school, I had to tell him, who was getting a divorce, that I’d just married my husband the other day.

We have many shared interests and keep in touch, so do our parents in the community where we were raised. I have family there. Our parents know the same people even though they’re now semi-retired. It was a village, everyone knew each other.

Things keep coming back, good memories and friends who pop up out of nowhere. Then your families are connected and there’s no need for Facebook. That’s how it is, six a.m. September 17.

Aunties L and J

Decades ago they kept the OED, the dictionary, in the powder room so when we kids went to the “loo” we had to open the book, find a new word, pronounce it and define it, then use it in a sentence.

I love them for that. It made me want to learn. Of course as a kid wanting to go outside and play, it was annoying at the time but it was a labor of love.

Perhaps I should rename this blog A Labor of Love because that is what I am. Of course someone will already have that moniker. I thank my Aunts for guiding me to knowledge, that eventually became wisdom. Cheers, Dee

My Pot Roast

Yesterday I bought this 3″ thick gorgeous chuck steak. Salt and pepper, a large can of crushed tomatoes, one Vidalia onion, chopped. I covered it with foil and baked for 3 1/2 hours. It was served over egg noodles. Yum. I have more left for tomorrow for lunch.

Dinner will have to be vegetarian or light, like chicken. Why? Because Friday morning my butchers have a one-day sale on grass-fed beef. It comes in coarsely ground and they re-grind it to sell. I’ve pre-ordered four pounds of coarsely ground beef for my Texas Chili. I pride myself on grinding my own meat for chili but if my butchers say they’ll save me an hour on prep and washing my meat grinder I’ll trust them as they’ve served me well for years.

Fall has been in the air even though it’ll be warm today. A brief summer is not the time for stews, pot roasts or chili. Ah, what the heck. Chili and corn bread. Lime, cheese, onion toppings. Maybe a few guests. We’ll see.

I took Mom’s recipes to a new level and now they’re mine, pot roast, chicken saltimbocca (on the blog) and others. At the core is the 50’s use a can of this, a packet of that. I even took Lady Bird Johnson’s quintessential Pedernales chili recipe from 1962 where she fed JFK and 5,000 guests at their ranch outside of Austin TX and made it my own. I don’t buy chili powder. I buy from Penzey’s Spices, available online though I seem to always move to a neighborhood with a Penzey’s and Whole Foods within a mile radius. Imagine that! Ancho, chipotle, and others, plus cumin.

It’s a good chili. My Swedish neighbor taught me kottsbullar (Swedish meatballs) so I taught him Texas chili. All is right in the world. Enjoy the day. Dee

Kitchen Semantics

In cooking schools and in life, in a kitchen one knows to say “behind” or “hot behind” to keep a fellow cook from getting hurt or ruining your sauce.

One person on a cooking show I saw recently yelled “MOVE!!!” That is the antithesis of “behind.”

Behind lets one’s colleagues, competitors in this case, know that you’re running behind them with a new ingredient and not to step back. “Move” is a hostile comment that will get you pummeled by your fellow cooks a block away until you agree to an attitude adjustment.

The French brigade is legendary and how many chefs (see Ratatouille, based on Thomas Keller’s The French Laundry restaurant) are in the kitchen. There are rules. If one is washing dishes and dreaming of being on the line, behavior matters. So do tattoos (I don’t have any) but that’s another issue.

No matter what your career path, respect your elders and co-workers and people who work for you. No-one can ever go wrong with that philosophy. Everyone has their own job to do. Now MOVE, people, I’m coming through! No, in Italian it is “permesso.” Would you permit me to pass? I like that language better than MOVE! Cheers, too quiet around here and awaiting husband at midnight. Dee and Zoe

Sun, Shadows and Magic

Our walls are not complete with artwork and we just received another work to frame that will go well with the color scheme.

In the meantime I just moved a few around. It makes such a difference! I had three long photos framed together of water off islands in the Ionian sea. Yes, I took them. They were in a dark hallway and no-one ever commented on them.

Now I’ve my altar to food with a blue/yellow/green theme, then the picture and the windows and the lake and it’s perfect in blues and greens. In the dark hallway I moved Dad’s painting inspired by Maori art to the other wall. Its undulating frame echoes the waves and the sun intensifies the lake effect.

Yes, my husband is away until midnight. I’m becoming a framer and decorator. At least not a shopper! I didn’t pay a penny, only moved things around a bit and will have to paint. You tell him that. Oh, I did spend three cents to replace a cookbook I lent out and never came back. Plus shipping so it was $4.02. Sue me.

When you live somewhere for a few years, you stop thinking what someone else would think walking into your home. What is the first impression? For me, what I’d want to hear is “smells great, what’s cooking?” I do know that color has a visual impact so I frame art with that in mind.

Our latest piece is Japanese, from the inventor of color wood blocks, of a courtesan receiving an invitation. It goes into the color palette of the dark hallway. We cannot turn a light on there else it hits two others and gives a very stark view to our guests. I would like to frame it simply, and have it shine.

The sea is working for me now, with light playing off the windows and pictures I took many years ago following the trail of Odysseus through the Ionian Sea. Every once in a while the tumblers fall into place. Hopefully that’s today. Dee