Cooking with Dee

I had to figure it out. It was a gift from a former employee who was ramping up to a newer version. Control C. It was already wiped clean of everything so I had to figure out what to buy to make it work. You know by the title how old it was. It had about 30 mg and even with a new brain it was impressive for the time but essentially useless.

After I got it going and a laser printer I had a desk. Later I found out it was a gift from the CIA with which we have no knowledge whatsoever, a throw-away. Everything needed prompts, from C to printer.

No, I’m not on top, I have a MacBook Pro. My old MacBook lasted 8 years and is still hooked up here in case of failure.  Yes, my phone is a year old as well. My last iPhone 3  was ten years old and it first was was sent overseas. I hated my new phone and threatened to find whoever got the old one somewhere and give him/her the newest version and get mine back. Yes, there’s something called fair trade.

The computer is not getting me too badly with the new updates. The phone is. The apps on both are amazingly non-cognitive, like iPhoto. It is another month today, and I know my job which includes paying bills online and actually cooking a full chicken. The chicken is easy.

We’ve family to remember, and those to  care for every day, no matter how far we are from our dear ones.  Cheers from Dee

Who, me? Well after the 1860’s my father-in-law, a Texan, said I was the cause for the “war of Northern Aggression.”

If there is an upcoming course it’s three days (nothing on their site yet). I’d like to do this three day course if it works into family activities.

My husband and his brother, who is now my brother for 15 years last week, are Aggies. So is Cousin V the vet, who took out both of our dog’s hips as a pup due to severe hip dysplasia. Dog Zoe grew her own hips from cartilage and turned 14 years old yesterday. We brought some treats for fellow dogs. Thanks, Dr. Val! She wouldn’t be with us without you.

Whether I do or do not take this three-day intensive course I evinced an idea of taking a course that would help my husband demonstrably. It is about beef. His parents have a ranch and cattle and he’s a meat and potatoes guy. I’m a cook.

I can’t call myself an Aggie until I am one. My father-in-law will love that story. If they do offer another class I can attend I would love to do so. Cheers! Dee

This is for my dear brother. He is an intuitive cook but of late with the passing of our parents we are seeking childhood food memories.

I remembered one specifically. No, my brother is not lazy by any means. It was our mother’s “lazy chicken.” I’ve no idea where she got it from, perhaps her gift subscription to Gourmet magazine. The fifties and sixties were mostly canned sauces like cream of celery, or cream of mushroom, then she got a gift of Gourmet for the remainder of her life (thanks, J).

It’s an old Romanian recipe called Lazy Chicken, and tasty it is. Unfortunately I cannot fire my oven to 450 else smoke detectors will go off. Small baking dish to contain the meal. I’m cooking for two, here and making it up as I go along as Mom never left the recipe. Two chicken breasts on the bone, three carrots and an onion, plus diagonally cut potatoes, veg cut to stick up and char a bit at the ends. I add a bit of butter, salt, pepper, thyme, chicken broth and a splash of white wine. Place in a hot oven for up to an hour, basting every 20 minutes. Voila! Lazy Chicken. Multiply for larger dinner parties.

When K was younger I gave him this recipe and he said “there’s nothing lazy about it at all! You know I never use more than five ingredients!” Honey, you’ve got no pots and pans to wash, have just cooked dinner a deux in one baking dish and no last-minute work if you’re entertaining except to baste one last time while your guests have a glass of wine and chat. Dinner is served.

It’s early in the morning. I’ll call him later. Within the past weeks we both made Mom’s orange chicken that she used to make with juice concentrate and I use fresh oranges or juice as available. We have yet to compare our approaches to that dish, which is usually served over rice. Or stuffed peppers that I do not boil first as our mother did, I like to keep in the nutrients from red bell peppers and use turkey, Israeli couscous and Italian sun-dried tomatoes.  We were not offered, in our small town, any of these ingredients when we were kids.

We both enjoy lives with significant others (married 15 years last week) who have their own peccadillos as my husband cannot even look at anything that survives under water but I like the fact that my brother and I have tactile memories of our childhood that include scent and taste. We just make our own riffs on it.

I was working a few hours away, and visited when K was finishing high school. He and my youngest sister had a Collie named Nike, no, not after the shoe. It was a weekend and I think Dad made breakfast for all.

Helping out, I saw a small, plastic yellow bowl divided into two sections. It was for the dog, for weekends only. On on the left went two perfectly poached eggs over a piece of toast, and on the right, two milk bone treats. Exactly the same, every weekend. OK, I can help with that while you make the pancakes, Dad.

I made Nike her eggs and toast and her biscuits in the correct receptacle and served it to Her Highness, the Greek goddess. She wouldn’t eat it. My brother asked if I’d buttered the toast. I replied, “she’s a dog.” I buttered the toast and she loved it.

Attention to detail, drive, spirit, meticulousness, the urge to change lives and institutions, love of life and those in it are characteristics of the man I married 15 years ago. They can also be attributed to me, my late father, and to my brother. On my bucket list is to create a menu with my brother and cook it together.

Oh, I didn’t have a bucket list until now. Change is always possible. The meal will be more involved than Lazy Chicken, perhaps even Cassoulet. When I made it for him after cooking school Dad said that was the best meal he ever ate. Good thing is that K will have to be wherever for at least a weekend and perhaps we can see some art! Yes, I’m sneaky. While we’re awaiting the cassoulet I might teach him true Texas chili, Dee-style.

The Lazy Chicken will be saved for ourselves and you, of course. Be well, cheers! Dee

ps Dog lovers, I am one. Mine is 14 this week and has no hips. She has her food preferences as well and I listen. I spent years working with shelter dogs (adopted two) and cats (two as well). We met our Zoe at a shelter at 5 weeks of age and adopted her a day later when she turned six weeks. Fourteen years tomorrow, I don’t know what I’d do without her. D

pps K, we’re going for the 30th for Zoe’s birthday, it lines up and also makes fun of the federal government for treating Mom so badly by having so many federal agencies debate her date of birth. We are not allowed to have a party with a dog in attendance anywhere. I’ll do it anyway. We live here, what’s to keep us from handing out dog treats. I don’t expect you to fly in for the occasion but have other ideas afoot.

We are hermetically sealed in here and haven’t opened a window in over five years. Why? Mosquitos. They hunt me as they, bees, no see ‘ums have since childhood. Now after putting weather stripping around our front door, I’m getting spider bites. We put out new sticky traps so that may do the trick.

Heat dries out everything, including our skin and nasal passages and eyes. For years we’ve had a classic Devillebiss 1957 vaporizer, the kind your parents told you never to touch. The element broke a while ago and given its age I don’t know if anyone can fix it.

If we can’t find anyone, I’ll plant basil in the beautiful glass jar in a month or two. When my sister and I were sick, usually at the same time, we had a glass vaporizer we could not touch for fear of death. Mom put a salve from Vick’s on our chests to clear our nasal passages and lungs.

Now Vick’s has an other-worldly plastic blob that we bought a few days ago and is changing our world. We’ve lived at sea level, 300 feet above, intermediate and then 6,500 above and it was dry enough air up there for my finger to touch a thermostat to change it, and fry it. The charge threw me back to the dishwasher, it was six degrees outside and luckily the “heatilator” aka gas fireplace was electrically charged but already on and we now had no power. That was fixed within the hour. Our first high-tech steam mechanism died, draining water into its electrical element and rendering it hazardous.

We settled for the 1957 which worked great for years. Now we’ve little air and enough room for spiders. There’s room for a “blob” that works to humidify the air around us. I’ve called everyone from bottom to top in government about the mosquito problem. We’ve locked our windows because there is a fetid swamp below that used to be a railroad track.

It is now a lovely hiking/biking/walking trail with a mosquito-infested swamp to the side. The mosquitos come to me. They bite me. Dogs and cats and kids seek and love me and don’t bite unless they’re teething. As for mosquitos I ran up the food chain from city up to the feds, CDC sent me a pamphlet on mosquito-borne diseases. EPA said that this four-inch deep swamp was governed by the Marine Mammal Protection Act!

I told the EPA I’d never seen a porpoise or blue whale in a 4″ deep mud hole of muck and mosquitos. They would never take action and we’ve not opened a window since. That’s why we humidify our air indoors. Cheers, Dee

One must do so. There may be sad or angry days at life as we know it, but muddling through is a “must do.” Top of the list, as my brother would tell me. I had “get passport” on the top of my list for three years and when I got it, it still has become a family joke for a long time. Get through trials of patience and will.

The legal counsel who will not be identified gave me the worst pick-up line in history (“You’re an attractive woman, I’m a man, we both have needs.”) He also let me do all his work for him while I made 1/10th his salary but did show me a museum so that if I needed fifteen minutes of peace at lunch time I could go there and see a nature film. He also said “never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.” Hanlon’s Razor.

An old friend said to me “never eat maroon food.” I think he made that up! I do eat beets and red cabbage and have an occasional glass of red wine.

Losing important people, livelihood, friends and family is difficult. I saw a piece on Princess Diana the other night. Shortly after her death, her children encouraged people around the world to give to charity, via money or volunteerism. Everyone in the USA gave to their trust fund for their mother’s charities, not to their local animal shelter or food bank or library. That upset me as a consultant who helped build communities and non-profit organizations.

The other day I walked up to the butcher’s counter and said it’s our 15th anniversary. He replied “you must want meat.” Yes. I got two NY strip steaks that we split one day and he had the second yesterday. When I went back to pick up some veg, eggs and milk a butcher came out and called my name. He wished me a happy anniversary and thanked me for the Texas chili I brought in for a tasting. Building communities one step at a time.

The flower store knows me and the dog and calls us by name. Every child and dog owner in the neighborhood knows us. Kids ask to pet old Zoe. Of course! We help shy children emerge, into what, I do not know but hope it helps them center themselves, get rid of fear, and move on in life. The rule is they ask, I ask parent, parent says yes, OK. I don’t know what to do when our old dog Zoe is gone. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and do it all over again.

Life has bumps, ups and downs and one must just go through them and remember what was learned in the process. It is a process of dealing with the loss of someone or something you were used to having every day. Build up. Remember what you had and make the best of it.

Both my parents are gone now and I try to remember good times as we had many. Skinny-dipping with my sister in the pool at night. Joyful moments sliding down a cliff and catching crayfish. No, my mother had never seen live seafood and wouldn’t deign to cook it. Oh, what she missed. There’s a rainbow out there, just wait for the sun to emerge. Cheers! Dee

There is no time to be gained, only to be used wisely.

Life is short. We make mistakes. Hopefully we correct those mistakes and do not repeat them in the future. I was 25, my brother was 17. He ordered a beer and I was asked for proof of age, now I would be ecstatic!

We were staying at a pension where they held our passports and hotel keys so we would pay the bill. I’d been given a beautiful Coach bag with a simple lock, just a twist, as a gift and we wanted to travel light so I brought it. We had two days in Paris and went to the Jeu de Pomme when the impressionist paintings were still in residence. I lifted my hand to choose a few postcards to send home and my wallet was gone.

With the wallet went all my travelers checks, credit cards, drivers license and registration. The rest of the two days was spent waiting at the Consulate and police department.

When I returned home I had to take an entire day off to deal with the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV). I waited in line and they had my passport but denied a new license because I didn’t have two forms of identification (one would think a valid passport was enough.)

Dismissed, I looked at the car registration line and it was short. I went through it, got a replacement registration and used that as my second form of identification in the license line. Another day mis-used, waiting. Sneaky, I know, now I know to get a safe in your hotel and keep passport, drivers’ license and registration in it or preferably the latter two at home unless you plan to drive and apply in advance for a drivers’ license that allows driving overseas. No, not driving over the sea, that would not be recommended.

Now waiting takes on new meaning. One day I was waiting, probably 10th in line for a sandwich next door. This was NYC across from the Library (yes, the one with the lions).

A song was on the radio. The owner asked the name of the song. He told us that anyone in line who could name it would get a free sandwich tomorrow. It was the can-can dance. I searched my brain and called out Orpheus in the Underworld by Jacques Offenbach, with the composer’s name that was not required for the contest. Stunned silence. The next day the owner had looked it up and I was correct and got a free sandwich. Standing in line isn’t always a bad thing. Oh, and I don’t think the owner had another such contest. The answer was just pulled out of long-term musical memory, thanks Dad and teachers.

Head gates are how dairy famers get their stock to behave for milking. They want to be milked as relieved of their burdens and they also get treats. They stand in line. Yes, just like us. They also communicate and take on orphan calves. There is always a nanny in the herd. Best, Dee

I grew up seeing my dear aunt knit during pre-dinner conversations or even watching us kids open our Christmas presents. Of late she has been a volunteer working on lap robes for the elderly and veterans, and hats and booties for preemies at the local hospital.

That she could knit and talk at the same time without ever looking down at her works was always a marvel to me. In college, I had no money to buy my family holiday gifts. I always helped my mother and Auntie L ready the yarn. That means sitting with hands up for an inordinate amount of time so one could knit.

Aunt L taught me how to knit and purl, 101. I never learned to transition to a thumb so couldn’t make mittens. I decided on golf club covers, a mitten without a thumb, for my father and brother. No club numbers but I knew then how to make pom poms for the tops. I needlepointed a pre-fab plastic mesh glasses case for my mother and gave sundry gifts to my siblings.

Knitting gave way to petit point. Tiny cotton thread needlepoint on patterned fabric. I made them for family. Vision has diminished since then. Amazon may be a source for microscopic glass (the kind used for surgery). It’s been many years since Auntie L taught me needlepoint and how to weave the thread in back.

The last needlepoint, petit point, I worked on was over 20 years ago and was recently found in a bag in a box. It is a complicated one of flowers and as I entered the center I questioned my judgment as to how many stitches per flower. Where do I start and stop? I gave up before it was finished.

Some folks think that failure makes one weak. It does not. It makes one strong. Look at, well Yoda is not the best example. Let’s just think of it as a teaching experience. If one makes the same mistake again and again, that’s a problem.

A knitter and I started our blogs the same week, years ago. We have become friends over the years but have never met. pdxknitterati lives thousands of miles away. We were both awarded sort of “up and comer” awards on this site. She introduced me to the songs of a Western singer. I listened and brought the singer/songwriter in for Nanny’s 82nd birthday.

If I brush up on technique, make sure I wear wrist braces for my arthritis and get proper light and vision and find my artist frame, I’ve the wherewithal to finish this flower for my Auntie L. Wisdom is the key that hopefully comes with age. If it’s messed up I did so but I was able to make that decision on my own and will not hesitate to do so as I did when young. First, the hole in the needle in which to place the thread must be visible to the eye. Cheers! Dee

ps I’m looking up knitting and needlepoint specialty stores with teachers. And guitar. D

As we know it. We’re married 15 years today. When we first married he talked about having baby and I said “No way, we have to get a dog first.” Why? to see how bad you are. Our dog will be 14 next week. He was bad. I couldn’t have babies so she has been ours since she was six weeks old. Picture a father who wouldn’t let his daughter leave the house to go on a first date until she was 30. No, not the dog. She never dated.

He is very indulgent with our dog Zoe, even giving her a scrap of food from his dinner plate. I do not allow that and ask that something drop into her dinner bowl. Semantics, I know, but enjoy having a few friends over for an informal dinner and after she shows off with her ball, she plays her own game, missing link.

She circles the table and chooses the guest most likely to give her something from the table. Shame on you, Zoe! I do warn guests before dinner and let them know they can give her a couple of treats AFTER dinner if she does a couple of tricks for them. Hey, she’ll be 98 in “people years” next week so I give her a break and she is very gentle with all visitors, including other dogs, babies and toddlers, and even likes cats.

In one linear week we’ll have been married 15 years today then Zoe will turn 14. That equals our life. Our nuclear family, anyway. Let’s see, fifteen and fourteen equal “twenty-nine.” Was that my birthday last winter? I don’t know. My husband had me place my birthday and wedding date in his ring years ago. He just never looks! It is a kind and joyful life and I’m blessed that I met my husband two weeks after 9/11.

A number of us met randomly at a local chain restaurant bar at lunch and most had a burger. We talked about 9/11. Three hours later it was only the two of us. We had talked about dairy farms, movies and a lot of other things. We walked out to the parking lot, he walked to his car after shaking my hand and asked me if he could drive me to mine. No. He said that as movie buffs, we should go out as friends sometime.

I walked towards my “car,” actually walked home. I always walked to get most groceries and rarely went out to lunch but was upset with a client who hired another consultant because I was caught in 9/11 overseas and no-one could fly home so I sent said client $2K of work for a finished grant and edited his newsletter for free so went to the restaurant. Well, perhaps the President could have flown on our dime but he was busy in a library.

After that time I had to bid adieu, need to feed the cats.  Before shaking hands in the parking lot, we exchanged numbers, mine was a land line and he was a tech-y guy and still is so. He called me the next evening and asked me to a movie. He opened my car door, took my hand, and never let it go for 16 months and now fifteen years of marriage later.

We decide depending on where we were to live, to keep one car for the time being. There were no real impediments to living in a city that is very warm and humid most of the year. So I could run errands during the day to grocery or vet, I drove him 1/2 mile to work every hot weather morning. Zoe did it once and decided it was fun so “routine.” That is what one calls a herding dog. Think about it. I’ll have one more but one must be prepared and do some breed research.

He wanted to leave me the car but didn’t want to walk in because his business dress clothes would have been ruined so we drove him in every morning in hot weather. He exited the passenger side, closed the door and waited for the light to cross the street to his building. As soon as Zoe saw him cross the street, we were by the bus hut and she would pop up to the passenger seat to go home.

Everyone waiting for the bus or walking along the street to work saw her and laughed. They said, she looks like a person! She just hopped up there and sat as if she had on a seat belt and I took her home.

It is not a triumvirate but we have perhaps a symbiotic relationship of sorts where we three help our strengths and are able to correct weaknesses. When my husband is away on business, Zoe is of concern and we take care of each other. I don’t know what we’ll do when Zoe is gone as she’s a herder, annoying, demanding, cute, sweet, loves and takes care of us especially keeping me safe when my husband is away. LIFE, Dee

I was never good at art. Well, Papa taught me perspective because that was scientific. He also taught me copper tooling. It was third grade and I was a year younger. Everyone else brought in a rudimentary dog or house. I had a jaguar launching from the jungle with every leaf present and accounted for. I used his tools but drew from a photo and he never touched the art. After I got an A+++ everyone was still working on their first piece, in five minutes I made a daisy. Another A. The art teacher watched me and saw my time and knew I was not being coached.

I was better at other things but as a hobby the first decoupage was a barn-roofed tool box I used for culinary implements to take to school. When I visited my aunts years ago they started catering and needed a way to transport their tools. I cut out magazine articles and pasted them onto the toolbox. It is in their kitchen to this day.

A few years ago I got another big red toolbox out of storage. I covered it with culinary references as well but it is in my office with office supplies inside.

Today I took what looks like a hip flask, that came from the grocery with a Texas BBQ sauce that was quite tasty, cleaned and dried it thoroughly and made it up with culinary themes for my aunts to be a single-flower vase. Well, it’s been 20 years since the last one….. At least it’s not a tool box! Dee

ps My husband’s favorite picture of many not done by me is a crayon drawing at age five of the cast of The Wizard of Oz, Tin Man, me (Dorothy) sitting on Cowardly Lion’s back, and Scarecrow. I wanted to put it by his side of the bed but he said no, the sun may get to it from there (I got it framed with 98% uv protection) so why don’t you place it on your side. OK, dear, here’s one I envisioned of you and the dog who used to walk you to the school bus and come back to walk you home.

I don’t do art, my aunts just taught me how to write and express myself through words. We got a $.50 allowance each week from our parents which was about enough to buy everyone presents when due. Hitting was never thought of. We got fined five cents every time we called each other dumb, idiot or stupid.

Then there was the golden one, my brother who I love very much. He would do something really bad and we’d say we were going to tell on him. He’d run to our mother and say “Mommy, I’m not being haved.” and she’d give him a hug and tell him he’s so sweet and send us to our room for not looking after him. I was the eldest and shared a room with my sister, the golden one had his own room.

Mom’s gone over 9 years, Dad a little over one. It’s been a roller coaster of a life but I’m lucky to be where I am right now.  Yes, I helped walk with a friend and a nearly grown-up pup yesterday to get on my feet for a while and when the dog saw me, she grabbed my thigh and peed. She’s nearly a year. I had her for several weekends as a pup, a favor to my neighbors. Sweet pup, but the “happy pee” is getting old. Luckily I was wearing Crocs and they are in the wash.

Just as one must teach a dog basic obedience (learn broad hand signals because as they get old they’ll lose hearing and have cataracts) one must learn to speak at least one language and explain and consult on one’s views on an issue without the words idiot, dumb or stupid involved in the conversation. The folks were right on that issue. Cheers! Dee

Ah, yes, a dictionary. I started a year ago with a 1971 version of the OED but the print was so small I couldn’t even read it out of its case, even with the high-powered Bausch&Lomb magnifying glass in a separate drawer so gave it to two young brothers, ages four and six. Their mother thanked me for keeping them away from the internet and television. I’ll bet at their young age they could read it without glasses or the magnifying glass!

We keep the current dictionary in our guest bathroom because my aunts always had one in the powder room. If we used said room, we were duty-bound to open up the dictionary to any page and look for a word we did not know. After thoroughly washing our hands and drying them, it was time to emerge.

I said the word, spelled the word, defined it and used it in a sentence. Thanks, Aunt L and J for giving me the confidence to learn language.

It’s been probably ten years since I’ve had this blog. My husband created it for me, AL & J inspired me and I was able to write about things that matter. Yes, many are cooking-related but they taught me I could write anything here as well.

Over life I’ve had many teachers. A few mentors. These mentors would not like the previous half-sentence as they are retired English teachers. That’s just the way I write. Love to my aunts, who taught me to like blue cheese, choose menus and even decide on serving platters, and to appreciate fine things.

I wanted a towel rack in our en suite bath and bought one. Someone came in to install it and one end wouldn’t work in the wall. I couldn’t hang two bath towels else it would fail. Aunts to the rescue! Aunt L has bought me linen towels from everywhere. I chose her type of iron (Rowenta, no they don’t pay me) and made them look beautiful with others my husband’s mother embroidered for me, all herbs and gorgeous, as she recuperated from knee surgery. She had planned to be feet-up for a bit so planned this project, for which I thank her.

I bought a few more plain white, tiny linens, four for $1, from an estate sale in Texas and since the towel rod will not take bath towels it is now a work of art that brings our families together. You were always destined to do that, m’lady. Thank you. Dee