Category Archives: Editorial

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Cheating

Yes, I did so twice. First, I didn’t choose my own meats and grind them myself for Lady Bird Johnson’s Pedernales Chili (look it up under the Johnson Presidential Library, it was the most requested document from the White House in 1962).

Instead I had the butcher change out the blade and do the coarsest TX grind he could. I only made 1/2 batch but upped the spices from half the usual and my husband loved it.

I served the chili with grated cheese, lime, and sour cream and cornbread. I cheated on that, too, but in a good way. Short of time, I used a boxed cornbread mix but substituted buttermilk for the milk and heated a cast iron skillet in the oven and added a couple tbsp butter on the bottom and when it was hot, threw in the batter which had sat for at least ten minutes. Yummy. Just use potholders/torchons pulling out the skillet and adding the batter and flattening it out – it’ll be great!

More to follow, Dee

Changing Spaces

Yes, I did again. First the garage was ruining the paint on my lovely old car. Then I was against a cement wall and had to pull back blind and my parking neighbors kept parking over the line, taking two expensive spaces and not allowing me access to my car.

Then I was told, as an adult, the worst news ever. “Their parents pay for them to live here.” That was enough. I moved, next to a gorgeous car and new neighbor I just met. I drove a Jag across country for my parents in 1989 and all the midwest service station owners would say is “right nice car you got ma’am.” I had to stockpile oil and transmission fluid and check everything before hitting the road. All I could get on the road was gas, and for that, to keep from getting any gas on the paint with two tanks, I stopped once and filled up, went 100 miles and filled up the other and rotated the two.

To say a pre-2004 Jaguar purred like a cat does not do it justice. I loved that car and my sister rolled it off the freeway (it rolled over twice) and climbed out the sun roof unscathed except from bruises from her seat belt. At least she was wearing that. But that purr is almost as good as I got from my two cats.

One year I got the cats a polartec blanket for the holidays. They hated each other so I’d get under the blanket, one would get underneath and the other on top then I’d get out and go to work five minutes later. They thought I was keeping them warm and comfy and it was each other. Purr……..

Enough about that. I hate to be an old fart but if your parents are paying for one parking space and you try to take two, have them spring for the second space. Or have them buy another smaller car to live next to your Lexus, if they have the money. I know that if you’re not earning money and have never known the value of a dollar earned, you will never treat anyone else decently. Try getting a job sometime. It’ll teach you a lot about people and money and whether you can cut it in the world or have to live off your parents for the rest of your life.

Thus I found myself a new space. Parking space, that is. Long story but a good one. To everything there is a season. I will definitely take care of my parking neighbor’s Jaguar. Purrs, Dee

Of The People

by the people, for the people. I’m sure you’ve heard it before. We took a Thanksgiving trip two years ago and made many plans to see many things but we had the dog with us and traffic and long roads to nowhere. We really wanted to see Lincoln’s birthplace in Springfield IL. Some of his words and teachings have shaped my life and political philosophy.

Standing in front of his statue at the Lincoln Memorial is as moving for me as reading the original US Constitution and standing in front of the Supreme Court building. Or listening to Coretta Scott King at the AME church on the first Martin Luther King day.

But a government of the people, by the people and for the people resonates with me. I worked in government, a good pet to have for higher-ups. Take a young smart kid, throw them in the deep end and see if they can swim. Luckily my “deep end note” from Mom worked and I’d aced swim classes thanks to Dad.

President Lincoln would go with the flow of technology but would probably not have approved, lauded and fought for tooth and nail for the so-called Patriot Act that allows all our phone calls and emails to be monitored by the government.

I have a small local issue that may become a national issue and have gone up the chain of command, so to speak, in order to address it. Please hear me out because I left government because I thought, erroneously in my youth, that I was in policy, not politics.

Our city, county and state say I’m imagining insect bites, everyone passes the buck, there’s standing water below and no-one will do anything about it. One official tells me I’m making things up, others even said that four inches of fetid swamp water in a railroad bar ditch (the rails now paved and part of a city trail) is governed by the Marine Mammal Protection Act. I haven’t seen any porpoises, manatees or blue whales in this disgusting standing water.

I was actually told by local bureaucrats that no-one cares about standing water or mosquito breeding grounds until late summer when residents start going to hospitals with symptoms of West Nile Virus.

Of the people. We are a representative democracy.

By the people – we elect our representatives, and when we don’t care or don’t vote that’s our problem.

For the people. It’s actually about re-election. There’s no response, there’s the runaround where you’re directed to other agencies in a vicious circle, there’s the “we’ll look into it” and no callback, they try to make us feel stupid and then there are outright liars. We pay their salaries. More people should call in about the dead cat in the middle of the street or broken glass strewn on the crosswalk.

Your money pays these people to treat you like dirt. If you’ve a problem, contact them. Here the city takes care of one side of the street and the county the other. They won’t work together. It took a lady being killed for them to put in a crosswalk. It’s been there less than a year and the paint is fading and they think I’ll let it go. No way.

Dad always said I should run for office. No, I don’t think so. I think I was meant to run people out of office for not being of the people, by the people and for the people. I vote. Please vote your conscience as well and volunteer. Dee

First Time

Cooking, of course. I remember placing cookies on sheet pans but when I was eight I got the Betty Crocker Boys and Girls Cookbook I had to do something.

I was eight and my grandfather was here for the summer. Carrot curls were the order of the day and I took off the outer peel and made peels, placed them in ice water in the frig for an hour and voila!

He called them suicide carrot curls, as he did anything I made. They were curly but I bet I didn’t season them. I didn’t even remember that ’til now.

One dish I made for my father, only once in my life, was a lamb cassoulet a la Simca Beck, co-author of Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Dad told me it was the best dish he’d ever had. Dee

Taxpayers

Ok, Einsteins. Here is the amount of taxes we pay to our federal, state and local governments through wage deductions and taxes. We’re going to forget the enormous federal, state and local deficits for the benefit of this exercise.

Now take the amount that goes to you and all your trips, your staff, your mistress, and all the “pork” you vote for to aid yourself and fellow legislators. Now consider cost per voter in your district.

Factor in how many times your office doesn’t answer the phone, or respond to an email or letter from a constituent. Add the number of times someone answered the phone and was told “I’ll get back to you” and it never happened.

Another wrinkle. Working with other government agencies and actually talking to your constituents. We pay you for this. In the end we pay you to serve in a representative democracy to serve the people. We are the people. When we get in touch with you, few of us ever do because most people are afraid to deal with authority figures, please get back to us and help us solve the problem.

We’ve had issues over the years and brought them to our representatives and got nothing. They’ve asked us to work on their campaigns promising they believed in our issues and the minute they were elected, imagine my surprise that they changed their minds and were against everything we stood for that helped them get elected. Oh, my.

Here’s my analysis. Business brings not the best and brightest to the top echelons. They may look and sound good but it’s media hype nowadays.

Non-profits take the people who want to change the world, pay these idealists nothing for their passion and hard work, and burn them out in a couple of years.

Politicians take smart kids like me, place them in the trenches with no helicopter in sight, pay nothing and expect 24/7 service. The Bureacracy runs the government. They just wait for the current President to die or leave office, leave things on their desks and whether at any level of government there are divided houses they just wait.

Witness Bill Clinton. In his first term he had a Democratic legislative branch and couldn’t get anything done because he brought in all his own people from Arkansas and First Lady Hillary pushed a health care bill and said she didn’t make cookies.

Twenty years later First Lady/Senator/Secretary of State Hillary Clinton saw some of the best parts of her health care bill passed and may be our next president.

Compromises are made. Serious ones, in which I thought I was a policy wonk doing the right thing, but didn’t want to be a politcian. So I was washed up, my choice, to lobbyist. But that’s another note to you.

If there’s a dead animal on your street call someone. They’ll pick it up but it may stink for a week or two. We pay all these people. On April 15 those who owed (I owed $100) paid. But we’ve paid billions each year to elect people to represent us who would not even consider picking up a dead raccoon from the street.

What was the Revolutionary War? I wonder if some elected officials even know what it was about. Now we have the Patriot Act that monitors this blog, all my emails and phone calls and there was a government of part-time representatives who included teachers. Now it’s all well-funded lawyers who want a lucrative career and even better dollars when they retire.

As of now there are few representatives of the people in our democracy, and fewer who believe in our Constitution and that spying on your citizens and voters without a warrant is not warranted, at least in my version of that document.

Freedom! Freedom from want, freedom from fear, freedom of expression. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Expecting no less, Dee

Perfection

In a moment the dog will awaken and stare me into taking her out and feeding her. I’ll have to darken the rooms with shades because the sun is now behind the clouds but will come out in moments and make our home very hot.

The few remaining dishes from yesterday will have to be cleaned and breakfast will be made by me for my husband and our dog.

Perfection is what my mother wanted. I took violin, ballet and piano lessons for it yet I’ll never be perfect. No-one can be perfect.

We deal with our imperfections. I’ll never be the owner of the top Michelin star restaurant in the world yet I cook for my husband and family.

I’ll never write the JD Salinger novel or figure out the next step to Bucky’s geodesic dome. Yes, Buckminster Fuller, I knew him.

Striving to make the best pizza crust to serve at home I am lucky to find secrets from people who I keep secret.

My mother tried to make me perfect, walking with a dictionary on my head. My father always told me I could be anything I wanted to be. No-one is perfect.

Today I try to get crosswalks painted and have standing pools of mosquito-breeding grounds stopped. They are small steps but stairs lead somewhere and I’m not looking at elective office, just an opportunity to make a difference and to sleep one night without being bitten by these mosquito-like creatures that are flying by my window.

Spring is here. It’s time to contact the right people and have that standing water drained, as it was in the railroad days. Dee

Mistakes

First of all, never try a new dish for a dinner party. I haven’t made that mistake for a very long time. My rule was always to try a recipe first (unless I make one up, and I try it first as well) as written.

Now I had this surprise dish that turned out to be OK, not great, for my Texan husband. The butchers had to talk to each other to figure out the best cut of meat for the Chicken Fried Steak. I ended up with top round (on sale) and hit it with the heavy flat pounder before messing it up with the Medieval cruncher.

My mistakes were: substituting rice flour for regular, but the seasonings of garlic powder, ancho chili powder, salt & lots of pepper were spot on; substituting buttermilk for milk; and not using eggs. The batter just didn’t adhere as it should.

Sometimes I think cooking allows one to make mistakes. I know that whatever I make will taste good, it just may not look perfect. Neither do I, so for 13 years I’ve had a “guinea pig” husband to try things out. Yes, he’s gone from man caves with one frozen dinner (from his mother) and a 72 oz. Dr. Pepper and individually wrapped string cheese with wrappers going from the frig to his computer, which he made from scratch of course. The computer, not the cheese.

Now he critiques everything I do in the kitchen and even helps out sometimes. Don’t worry, I always set him up with everything on the other side of the island. That’s why we always have to have an island, and comfy stools to sit on. But as a string cheese maven, he now opines on 4-5 year cheddars and says I made him a food snob.

The good things about the night’s dinner were my first milk gravy, which is really just a bechamel sauce with lots of freshly ground pepper. My mashed potatoes were terrific. And I decided to saute the baby arugula in olive oil with chopped garlic. I loved it. He called it a bit “stout” in flavor. At least we had some green on the plate and I tried the steak but the potatoes and veg and sauce were my game.

Thank you Ree and Trisha, for giving me Southern inspiration for my Texas guy. Tomorrow I’ll turn Trisha’s biscuits that I messed up a bit into gold. I’ll halve and toast them, cook up some sausages, make eggs and I made a whole extra cup of gravy that awaits re-heating.

What cowboy doesn’t like biscuits and gravy? Dee

Texas

and the South, of course. Of late I’ve availed myself of other than my treasured cookbooks, gone back to at least my husband’s old favorites and become in a cooking rut.

I love to learn new-to-me recipes from people like Trisha Yearwood and Ree Drummond as they seem to really cook and have a passion for new and old family recipes. My husband is born & bred Texas, a farm boy who loves his meat and potatoes.

He was sick last weekend and recuperating after a long week so I’d like to make him a surprise. Yesterday I tried Trisha’s biscuits and though I’m a trained cook they didn’t turn out so well. They taste great but I had to use buttermilk powder and that may not have worked. The flour and veg shortening came together well but I had to add extra milk. They kind of looked like hockey pucks.

Immediately after they cooled I placed them in a sealed bag in the freezer. What I plan to do for breakfast is a toasted (unfrozen) biscuit with a sausage patty and egg, with cream gravy.

Thanks to this morning’s show with Ree I know making white gravy is as easy as falling off a horse – I know because been there, done that. And I make bechamel a few times a year, but hopefully “Pickles” is finally gone now after decades and throwing me across a creek then tossing me into a sandbox and running home, sending a dinner party to see if I was OK while only my pride was struck, and I never rode again.

A lifelong animal lover who worked over 20 years in shelters and spay/neuter clinics horses sense my fear. I did get over it this past year in part, petting the largest horse I’ve ever met, a Percheron. Percherons were sent into war because they were so large and intimidating. Next is getting me to ride a horse. Perhaps this year.

Hopefully my husband won’t read this today because we have to get two things today, a utensil (under $5) that I’ve wanted for years, and raw frozen dog food. OK, then I’m going for groceries alone.

For dinner, I’m taking him back to TX with my first-ever chicken fried steak, my garlic mashed potatoes, and perhaps an arugula salad with grated black beet on top with a vinaigrette to be named later. Ree, let me hit a home run on this one.

A tip for cooks everywhere. You’ll probably see staff in the produce department. Ask them questions. Get to know your butchers (I can’t get to know my fishmongers because my husband is deathly allergic to anything that swims so I can’t even cook fish at home). If there is a cheese department get to know them and your shopping will be easy. You’ll only have to go into the inner aisles for things like olive oil, rice, soy sauce, jam, flour and sugar.

For those who celebrate Easter, and every reader, enjoy this day. Dee

 

Chopsticks

I called Nanny to tell her what a wonderful, marvelous, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious grandson I married. Today, I figured out that Mary Poppins dropped in and left some fairy dust behind that made our childhood street a wonderful place to live.

My husband usually gets off work and comes home around 7:00 so when he called (I was walking the dog and of course, forgot my phone) it was shortly after five and he was very ill.

I think it was food poisoning, certainly not intentional but I looked after him all weekend. He’s allergic to anything that swims so if someone dunks his french fries in oil that has been used to fry fish… that could do it.

While I normally cook, he was well enough to go out Sunday afternoon and got me some spicy tuna sushi. He forgot the chopsticks. Luckily a kind waitress at a local Thai restaurant, after hearing he did not use chopsticks, had fashioned a set with rubber bands that one would give a three year-old. I took off the rubber bands and used those.

So what did I get in the mail? A set of five Chinese bamboo chopsticks hand painted with Peking Opera facial masks.

A week after we met we talked marriage in a hypothetical way and I said it was always about the marriage, not the wedding. I also told him it was unfair for a potential wife to get an engagement ring. We eloped, but only because my parents were divorced and it was unfair of me to ask them to sit in a small room together.

As to jewelery, we got two matching rings for our wedding, I’ve two magnetic golf bracelets to stem my arthritis, a pair of earrings I’ve worn day and night for over ten years and last year, a silver Claddagh ring I’ve always wanted.

No diamonds, I married mine. As we go through life together I’ll remember that he doesn’t want me to carry in bulky or heavy stuff, so orders it online. And he bought me chopsticks when he doesn’t eat fish. This one’s for Tommy and all the birthday parties we had in our garage. Pin the tail on the donkey up there, kiddo. Dee

Number 17 Cherry Tree Lane

We knew she vanished somewhere. Sometimes we got mail from all places, disconsolate spaces where children were sad and parents were well-intentioned.

He played the piano, and we sang along, I thought that my harmonies would always belong.

Mary came to visit, another street, it was our own and a great place to meet. She placed me together with mentors and friends, we all played ball and stayed ’til the end.

The end has come for one of our friends. Let us remember him as a kind gent. He gave us whimsy and science and nice, let us give our friend his own kind of spice.

Radio chatter is not my game, SOS is all that I can avail, but this was a master the Navy says too, farewell MB and we all love you. To Mrs. MB and Don, Dee

PS Don, I’ll have to work on the lyrics, this came from the heart.