First Snow

I knew the kiddos would be disappointed today. We got a lot of snow that melted into slush. I put on hiking boots today to take the dog out about seven.

All I thought about was what I would feel first snow of the season as a kid, ready to make a snowman or sled down the hill.

As a snow native I know what kind of snow we have in the great lakes and in the Rockies. I know a powder day and that is reinforced when all skiers call in with a cough and say they’re “under the weather.”

This was slush. Boots did well for traction because nothing was done to streets or sidewalks. I felt bad for the kids because there were not snowmen/women to be made and there was no sledding down the big bowl because it was just too wet.

Good things. I did see beautiful trees and missed photographing them with hanging snow as it melted before I could get my camera. Yes, there was a little snowman, about 2′ tall, we saw en route. And because the kids couldn’t sled the bowl, the parents devised some sort of game below so they forgot about sledding. Great parents!

The kids see inspiration. Parents see perspiration. Isn’t that a lifelong rule of success? Cheers, no snow day here as I’ve a great car and snow tires. Cheers! Dee

 

 

 

 

Blame

We have had someone burglarizing forty floors of residents and the only thing the management office could do is send out an email, blaming us.

There are glaring errors in security here. I told them about the most vulnerable points of access. I walk our dog several times a day and know the neighborhood. When the wind comes up and the weather turns bad I look into other entrances to our place.

Why blame us? It is lack of security. The email should have said they were sorry and everything is being done to assure safety in our homes. Instead they tell us we are at fault and here is what we need to do.

There’s a new adminstration here and this is not a good sign. If my husband is traveling for work and doesn’t think I and our great dog Zoe are not safe, we will not live here anymore.

Thirty days notice. Women and retirees in this place do not feel safe. Do not blame us for break-ins, blame your lame security devices/access points and staff who don’t watch the cameras. We’ll just leave, and when we leave, many others will as well. Dee

ps All the dog owners in the neighborhood don’t call me Aunt Dee for nothing. I got a crosswalk installed and re-painted two years later. No-one stops. But the city owned one side and county the other and I got them to work together for change.

Choices

I love my husband. I have many books with recipes in them, good books, some of the best, he has a book called Numerical Recipes. We’re both technicians of a sort, a very different sort who happen to get along together.

Last night I made a classic Beef Carbonnade (beef, onions, bacon and beer) stew that I let simmer for a few hours. I decided to make spaetzle, something my father would like. I used a recipe from Tyler Florence http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/tyler-florence/spaetzle-recipe.html and just added a bit more milk. Probably atmospheric conditions and that I used Italian 00 flour.

I try to multi-task both in kitchen work and appliances. There are few items out on the counter, and minimal storage space so I choose gadgets wisely. The first tools I used in cooking school were a chef’s and a paring knife. I still use them but have changed to an 8″ Santoku and 8″ ceramic blade. Yes, I’ve at least 12 knives up on the magnetic strip, easy to access even for a left-hander.

When my husband is out at a specialty hardware store and sees something he thinks I need, he buys it. He knows 5% of what I know about cooking but likes the science and mechanics of it. PLEASE don’t let him find Harold McGee on the bottom shelf as he’ll read it and drive me bonkers! He remembers everything, even what is the difference between baking soda and baking powder. He doesn’t understand, as a physicist, why bakers need both. Double indemnity? I don’t bake. I cook.

So, back to the spaetzle. Simple recipe, and he chose the best tool with which to drop the drops into boiling water. NO, don’t go buy a spaetzle maker, dearest. We can use your old college colander. You got me a potato ricer. At the specialty hardware store over the years you also bought me a food mill.

Food mill, he said. I poured the mixture I made into the food mill with the largest disc while he stirred, poised over the boiling pot of salted water and watched the nubbins come to the top. We took them out with a Chinese mesh “spider.” Then they went into butter with a bit of salt and pepper and were perfect with our tender, tasty Carbonnade.

Teamwork. After we were done I said congratulations, dear, you just made pasta. I did? He’s very proud. There’s a lot more Carbonnade so he may decide to make his own spaetzle tonight.

My fear is that he does not do mis en place, asks for every step, uses every pot and pan in the kitchen and thinks dinner ends with dinner. No clean-up. That’s why he’s only allowed in to get ice, water or Dr. Pepper. Cheerily, Dee

 

Fool Me Once

A colleague was sent to pick up my husband for work several years ago.  They drove a good distance, my husband showed him around and my dearest love was out of work the next day. Guess who was his replacement? He stayed on, other clients but it was a crummy way to do it.

Later on, the same driver/usurper asked him to dinner at an expensive Italian restaurant and chose not to show up because he said my husband had “not confirmed.” That is not true. Adding insult to injury, my husband had that table and had his Dr. Pepper and waited. Nothing. Yes, he has a cell phone.

I believe what happened is that his boss ran into my husband at a work event, driver/usurper told boss man what my husband had been doing for the past year and the boss was blown away because my husband landed a much larger fish than they ever had caught from their tiny pond, or will, so forbade any employee from speaking to my husband.

Get this. It’s called agile. Making sure all the kids get along in the pool or on the playground. It’s about servant leadership, someone who mentors people and negotiates the technological and team potholes or sand traps or relationship struggles between departments and makes things work for the company.

A moderator boss once said that “We teach Servant/Agile leadership. We don’t have to do it.” Yes. that is a fact. My husband is a threat to him because he is successful, honest and true to the principles he has learned from life. My husband just wants honest work at a decent rate. No harm, no foul. I was placed on earth to protect him, and him, me. I’ll have to get get better glasses to have eagle eyes on anything and everything. Also, perfect my father’s stare at any boyfriend I ever had. Old Eagle Eyes. Except those glasses on my husband, of course. He passed muster.

And the beat goes on, keep it up Sonny and Cher! He’s coming home with pizza and tickets to tomorrow’s ball game. Dee

 

I Pick at Her

My husband gave our old dog Zoe a bath today in our bathroom, without telling me. I ended up doing the bath because it’s more like a spa day rather than “Daddy twisted me every which way to wash and rinse for 20 minutes as is his methodical persuasion.”

That’s Zoe. She’s our little Aussie runty shelter mutt. She’s smart. Forget the letters b-a-l-l, she even knows what spherical device means so when we’re told to go get it, we do as it’ll keep her quiet then she’ll sleep.

We go out 4-5 times together every day. If my husband is in town, she gets a long walk after her dinner so I can cook ours. Of late, she’s been shedding like crazy. I pull out tufts when we’re outdoors on walks so that the birds and squirrels can line their nests for a cold winter.

Zoe’s, then my husband’s shower made me clean the bathroom twice and do two loads of laundry. And husband didn’t ask if I had that in my plan, just did it. He is a kind person, means well and I love him dearly.

Hours, 24. That’s for Zoe to mostly air dry. I won’t take her to a groomer or allow several hair dryers to beat on her while she is in a crate. She hates any vacuum cleaner and is a wash & wear gal, like me. Those tufts are coming out like crazy and I want to pull them but need to let her dry.

Zoe needs a winter coat, and shouldn’t be shedding summer so if we get rid of the undercoat, she can always grow another. She only sheds 365 days a year! Tumbling tumbleweeds.

Tomorrow I guess I get to wash towels and sheets….. Cheerily, Dee

 

Diner a Deux

I’ve been getting so bored with meals these days because my husband is home for a bit and always wants beef. We eat for two so there is no prime rib here. Just skirt steak with chimichurri, a burger, meat loaf or an occasional NY Strip.

Today I resurrected a thought, a recipe my mother had in my childhood (Dad hated it). Orange chicken. She made a complicated recipe using part of a can of frozen orange juice.

Today, I took a cup of rice and put it on to simmer. Sliced one chicken breast on the diagonal. Then I asked my husband (he’s in town today) to juice three California Clementines (often called cuties). He ate the next one so zested the rind and juiced the last.

I sauteed the chicken pieces while getting the sauce started. Everything was going well. I needed a bit of a cornstarch slurry, a couple of teaspoons of water and cornstarch, mixed. It thickened up right away, and I re-seasoned and placed it over the cooked rice. Salad was plain green arugula with his favorite dressing. I can make many, he grew up with and likes bottled dressing. I can make my own. I can also eat fish when he’s out of town for a few days.

We have a small freezer and much of it is taken up with dog food. Most of the things I cook are last-minute and should not be frozen after they’re cooked. Perhaps I can do more stews and chili over the winter. I think it’s going to be a cold one. Cheers! Dee

 

 

Unfavorite Things

You can easily read my treatise on kitchen equipment and blog posts and photos. I do have a lot of necessary kitchen equipment. Nothing goes on my countertop unless it is used nearly every day. Even my knives are on the wall, spices in our “tech center.”

Starting with favorite things, yes, I induced my parents to see The Sound of Music three times the year it debuted. I love My Favorite Things.

I do have a food processor, hand-cranked food mill from the hardware store with three blades, and a potato ricer (never try to put a cooked rutabaga through a ricer).

The tamis. Just call it Tammy. Wooden sides, fine mesh sieve. Scraper. I was an intern after cooking school for a month having spent nearly all my life savings on that endeavor. I left enough for a rental car for a month and $400 for a place to live. I didn’t know I’d have to pay $5 per day for wood to at least get me through until 3 a.m. They left me wood but it was too huge to work in the stove and I was out in a cabin in the middle of no-where when I almost cut my legs off with the axe.

The restaurant had a system, 57 guests, two seatings. Cooks got a plate fee for every table. Every paid cook, I was an unpaid intern. Nada.

The restaurant cold-smoked corn and made it into smoked corn soup in the fall. I got to push it through a tamis over a huge bowl. Do you know how hard it is to get corn essence through fine grates with only a scraper and how much chaff is left behind?  Let me tell you something. If you’re at a hybrid hardware/cooking shop and see this cute little thing (like a pup or kitten) called a tamis, beware. You may be required to use it one day. It’s like trying to put rutabagas through a ricer for a Christmas root veg puree.

If Monty Python and the Holy Grail is any indication, a tamis might chew your arms off. Or give you arthritis. Dee

Truth

My dogs never lie. I’ve always kept them on a schedule but they always told me when they needed to go out and it was not to try to kill a squirrel. Not that it wasn’t always on their minds, but after 25 years of dog ownership my dogs have never bagged an SQ. Yes, that’s what we have to call them these days. As is the only ball our dog will ever have, indestructible, a “spherical device.”

Hey, our brains are bigger! Let us use these brains. I like to think we’ve built up enough trust that they just tell us what they need and we figure it out and do it. Sometimes it’s unclear whether they want the ball or to go out to do #1. Other times they may eat something icky/dead from the sidewalk and vomit on our bed. No problem. Six loads of wash here and one at our friends up the street in a huge washer, the down comforter, with a pair of my Crocs to fluff before folding.

Our Zoe never lies. If she needs to go out, she needs to go out. I jump into appropriate clothing for the weather and go asap. Cats lie. I didn’t scratch the other cat, I’m just sitting here minding my manners and licking my paws! “I saw you do that, Mick”. I’m not paying attention to you, Mom, you only feed me and clean my litter box. I never did anything wrong so bring out my dinner or I’ll keep slamming the kitchen cabinet doors at 4:00 a.m. and pooping just outside the box. Cats blackmail.

My children have been four, two cats, two dogs to raise all from shelters, one cat in need of a private rescue. Each one was taken seriously, and individually. Oh, what stories I could tell. I do know that our dog Zoe is a truthful gal and loves us as we love her.

My husband recently replaced a card of mine with one with her picture. Not the best picture, looks like ASPCA and living in a yard with snow and no water and no dog house. Zoe lives indoors, sleeps on our bed and eats frozen raw lamb, rabbit, venison or duck. Our Zoe does go out for 5-6 walks per day. We interact with people and other dogs and that’s good.

When she was a pup my father-in-law said young Zoe could come for Thanksgiving, he’d clean the leaves out of a goat pen for her. I told my new husband I was staying home with our dog. F-I-L found and cleaned old dog crate and put it in my husband’s old room. They ran a dairy and now a ranch. They’ve no indoor dogs.

Zoe never used the crate, slept on our bed. Now she stands on F-I-L’s sofa space and watches out for him coming in from hauling hay or grain or taking out our nephew. Grandpa J pretends he doesn’t like Zoe but she loves him and he knows it.

I can’t have indoor cats (love them) because my husband is allergic to them. I can have dogs if they’re bathed often, which I do. Our Zoe is at the door awaiting my husband from a business meeting. She misses us, but me most because I feed her and walk her. My husband is the “fun guy” so she loves seeing him and she hates to see him leave for work with a suitcase for a week or two. That’s how it goes. Dee

Villains

It makes me upset when I’m treated badly by co-workers. It makes me really angry when people attack my husband unfairly.

Recently, a villain he knew was let go. I knew years ago that the hand I shook was that of a snake and that I could never trust him. My husband is more trusting than I.

Another berated and undermined me until I begged our Director to transfer me. He did, to a great situation where they actually appreciated my work. My old boss became the Director and until his recent retirement he tried to get this guy for his shady tactics and that he went all-out to denigrate all the work I did on his behalf.

My boss never talked to me after I quit to go to greener pastures. I recently learned from a colleague that he worked for 30 years to get this guy. The boss would ban me from meetings, take over my work after it was completed and never thanked me for the work I did and many hours were spent for little money. I think he was protecting me.

He’d come in early in the morning and see me at my desk with the NYTimes and Village Voice I’d bought from my own money downstairs. I was working. He told me to read the papers that were sitting, unopened, on the floor. “That’s part of your job,” he’d say.

I like to think that old bosses, some, anyway, are still behind my work. Most of all, my husband takes care of himself at work. I need him to know I have his six all the time, home or traveling for work. I can’t believe KCMG spent thirty years on this, we all did some great work together back in the day. Cheers to the NYTimes crossword puzzles after five on Fridays, may the villains rot in h-e double toothpicks. Dee

Sleepwriting

Yes, I awakened this morning sleepwriting. I’ve only sleepwalked a couple of times in grade school.

I was writing a recipe. It didn’t have a name but I had a few ingredients measured such as flour. I don’t usually bake. I cooked. Baking was under the watchful eyes and hands of my mother and younger sisters.

Yesterday I received a pen, an old-fashioned nib pen with ink cartridges that do not leak. My husband bought one a few weeks ago and I liked it so bought myself one. It was my birthday, after all.

I do think I was typing, however. I thought I might have my 1957 Smith-Corona portable electric typewriter reconditioned near where my husband was working and make it ready to write a book, old-style. Yes, it was one of the first, and made me the most popular pre-computer gal in college. Now that I’ve dragged it cross-country several times (the heaviest laptop I’ve ever had) I know it goes for $6 on eBay, even the original 1957 model that I own.

Price doesn’t matter. My aunt the English teacher gave it to me for high school graduation. That’s all that counts. In the end I don’t know if it’s the pen or the typewriter that led me to this vivid dream, sleepwriting. I could be Lucy in Charles Schultz vignettes and charge five cents to interpret your dreams! Dee