Cooking with Dee

and Chimichurri. I ran into several folks early this morning. One said I looked “cute” and I thought of the year I turned the dreaded 40 and waited for the day a store clerk asked for proof of age for me to buy a bottle of wine. A few days before I turned 41 and met my husband for the first time, I was asked and I thanked her because they said they only “carded” shoppers who looked under 30 and I’d been there nearly every day for years.

Now on the cusp of another age change, a woman said I looked cute. Nearly 60 and cute. I like it and don’t like it because on one side it says I’m young and vibrant. That’s her. With others, they don’t take me seriously, including my husband. I was a consultant years before he was one. I gave it up because he was dragging me around the country and world. I no longer have the support for a private practice, not that one can be built in two years and move elsewhere. The internet doesn’t work for my kind of business.

Before dinner, if we want to stretch time, my husband eats an apple. He cuts it his own way and uses my favorite knife, a paring knife I bought for cooking school nearly 30 years ago. He sharpened it. I was used to a certain feel as I cut and seeded the jalapenos but it was different. I was talking with him and cut my thumb, deeply. It was bleeding and throbbing so I stepped out.

Ordinarily he is not allowed in my kitchen except to get water and Dr. Pepper. He followed my instructions and finished the chimichurri. He had steak, tiny multi-colored potatoes and was supposed to have part of a large heirloom tomato. In the middle of the night my “dinner” was 1/2 cup of chocolate milk.

We made a full recipe http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/tyler-florence/gaucho-grilled-steak-with-chimichurri-sauce-recipe-1941631 of this so we could give some to a friend. He must know that when I took myself out of the game to hold my cut finger over my head, my rookie line cook came on and finished the job. He just happens to be a genius, physicist, mathematician, software engineer and consultant. Friend, you are lucky!

We’ll  check my bandages later and see if I need stitches. It was a clean but deep cut. At least I’m cute! Cheers! Dee

I think Dad instilled it in me. Two of us learned to read way early, and when our school wanted to change to phonics our parents rebelled. We were placed in the back of the room, together, and he was reading sports books and I was reading The Diary of Anne Frank.

We were made May King and May Queen because smarts were respected back then. Steven and I made a difference. A few years later we used to have to go to religious school every week. My younger sister and I, a sister and brother used to walk with us. They used to make fun of him. He was my friend and we walked together. I found out years later that he was gay. I had no idea of anything sexual at that time, only knew he was a good friend.

Years later his sister reached out to me to say she was sorry about all the things she said about her little brother, that they are best friends and she thanked me for being so kind to him.

I have made change in many areas of my life, in business and personal matters with people and pets. I have a side that engineers change. On the flip side folks call on me all the time for advice or care for their pets.

There are many stories but that would require a book. Cheers! Dee

ps  My wrist is getting better. I’m making burgers for lunch and skirt steak with chimichurri for dinner. Get the grill on!

He is eating them. My husband hates leftovers. Ask his mother. Two days ago I made my version of my mother’s “orange chicken” with fresh orange juice.

We shared one chicken breast and saved the other. Yesterday we shredded the other, added mayo, s&p, tarragon, halved black seedless grapes, halved multi-color cherry tomatoes, a nut mix and served it on small sesame rolls. Oh, I added orange zest and a bit of juice to reinforce the orange flavor. Also 1/3 of a lemon for freshness.

My husband is eating leftovers. They’re re-made but yesterday he helped re-make them, to my specifications. I need to tell his mother that reading a book is not like learning from vision. Taking a rubber boat down a fast river, nothing to know except you do it with a guide the first time. That’s how I learn. We did a five-hour run in two hours because the water was so fast, Class 4 rapids. It was scary and he read a book and thought he could do it alone. No way I will go or let you go alone. I’d been through Class 5 rapids, was thrown out of the raft and almost died and all the rescue boat people almost died as well in an eddy. I did that with my brother when he was 17, once. My husband and I learn from each other over the years. I know that when he says he’ll take our old dog Zoe out in the morning he has to brush his teeth, shave, shower, comb his hair and dress and that will take an hour. Sorry, Zoe has her “routine.”

Of late I’ve been going out with a jacket over my silk long undies, and FIDO tee-shirt. Save Fiesta Island Dog Park! Plus a jacket. I get up early and take her out. That is the priority. I’ll take a shower later, after I feed her and she takes a nap.

Sometimes people think the two dogs and two cats I’ve had from shelters over the past 30 years are “leftovers.” They are not. Each has a particular talent and no matter how damaged they were when I/we adopted they were fixed by love, attention and training.

In 1987 I was sent a five-week old kitten 3,000 miles, who had fallen off a 7′ shelf and his mother would not feed him. My sister sent him via my brother by plane, to me. Surprise! I had him for 13 years. He was a leftover. I made him not so. I named him Nathan, Hebrew for “gift.” I didn’t know anything about cats, but learned quickly and ended up running cat programs for adoptees, and spay/neuter for ferals later for many years.

No-one is a leftover. Those that may be deemed “leftovers” need a second chance. Nathan was a talker, I never got a last word in until I held him in my arms and they gave him the pink shot. Chani was so abused and at the end the community got together and gave a tree to our park in her memory. Mick was a retriever (post-it notes over the sofa) after spending a year in Chani’s bed, and a dog magnet. Zoe is a lover who is a mascot around here. She was never interested in birds for 13 years but tried to chase “Tom The Turkey” last week. He is the only creature that lives free, and for free, in our neighborhood and we “pardon” him on Thanksgiving every year.

My husband is a prize, not a leftover. When it comes to pets, please adopt from your local shelter. Cheers! Dee