Saturday, December 25, 2004
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Some years ago I cleaned a dental office, which had eclectic assortment of magazines for the long-suffering patients to read. Martha Stewart’s Living magazine was among them. I always took a minute or two to thumb through the newest issue as I cleaned the waiting room, or even actually read the articles as I waited for the dentist to fix my teeth, as I was also his patient.
Not that I am Suzy Homemaker or care about decorating or crafts, which brings to mind the hilarious segment by Bill Geist on the Sunday Morning program in which he creates a “Martha Stewart Christmas Wreath" with beer cans and Cheese Whiz.
I do like to cook, however, and the magazine is so beautiful with its gorgeous photography and clean, crisp layouts. It’s a feast for the eyes. Her suggestion that one cook a goose for Christmas caught my interest. She gave very detailed instructions about the stuffing and how important it was to save the goose fat. So I decided to stuff a goose for Christmas dinner.
The goose was expensive -- very expensive -- and not much bigger than one of the Muscovy ducks we used to raise. The stuffing required expensive things like dried apricots and a bundle of fresh sage. By the time I got the thing assembled and in the oven, the kitchen looked like a bomb had gone off. I cleaned up that mess.
At the appointed time, I removed the goose from the oven and siphoned off more than 2 cups of fat. Almost immediately, I spilled it all over the floor. Dog (that was his name), always lurked in the kitchen when I was cooking because good things to eat would magically appear on the floor. So, naturally, he was right there and began lapping up this grease as I frantically tried to get it up without smearing it everywhere.
Finally, we sat down to eat the goose and it was terrible. Tough and stringy. The dressing was nasty. It was the worst dinner I had ever made. Things got even better.
Dog got very sick from eating the fat and threw up, and then had an attack of pancreatitis, and I had to take him to the vet the next day. That was not cheap either. So it was a disaster all the way around. Thanks Martha, but I’ll stick to turkey.
Friday, December 17, 2004
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Friday, December 10, 2004
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Sunday, November 28, 2004
As I was driving out driveway with the fourth squirrel to venture into my trap, there coming around the curve in his bright red pickup was T, our nearest neighbor, who was headed to our house. We sat there for a few seconds hood to hood. At first I didn’t realize who it was--strangers often end up on our driveway because the road to our house used to also connect to the highway and many people no longer realize that it no longer does.I was wondering which of us would be the one to back up, and then he got out with a trash bag and I realized it was T and that he was bringing us some deer meat. “I got two of them” he says, “thought I’d share with you.” I was so touched by his kindness and generosity. I thought Tony was a rather scary guy when he and his girlfriend first moved in. He is big, he has tattoos, he is missing teeth, he rode a Harley (until he had to sell it to pay for cancer treatment), he looks mean, and like his huge American bulldog (who is a sweetheart and I’ll write about her eventually), he has a heart of gold. So now I have a front leg and shoulder, and some tenderloin in the freezer, and we’ve already had one meal of stew. It was delicious. Thank you, T.
Friday, November 26, 2004
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Monday, November 08, 2004
Saturday, November 06, 2004
Friday, November 05, 2004
Monday, November 01, 2004
Sunday, October 31, 2004
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Sunday, October 24, 2004
Friday, October 22, 2004
said the spider to the fly; Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy... The "parlor" is a mess -- actually the whole house is a mess and certainly not pretty. One day when I was about 4 years old I was out in the yard, and as I was looking at a spider's egg case that was attached on the board fence it burst open and hundreds of teeny tiny spiders came racing out. It was amazing. I've loved spiders ever since. So much so that I let them live in my house. R doesn't mind them either, fortunately for them, and in fact he found a cockroach last night and fed it to the spider that has spun a web close to the light by the closet. It has been there all summer, waiting patiently for a fly or moth to come to the light and get snared. He or she seemed very appreciate of the food. I've never seen anything in its web. Other insects that invade the house -- namely those that get into our food are promptly dispatched -- but we leave the spiders alone. Well, R does kill the brown recluses when he finds them (usually at the bottom of a box of papers). What in the world do they eat? I used to think the reason the cockroaches we brought with us from Oregon disappeared was becaue the brown recluses killed them, although the Roach Hotels got quite a few. We've got a cockroach problem now though either because we brought stuff into the house from someone whose house was infested with them or because of the compost heap which is not that far from the back door. One time I happened to be standing at the back door and saw a lizard rush out from nowhere and eat a cockroach. There is a place in the foundation under the back room of our house (whch used to be a screened in porch) where snakes and lizards spend the winter and hot summer days as well. What happened to "Roach Hotels?" That was one insect eradication product that actually worked and did not involve spreading poison. I always liked Kafka's Metamorphosis and have read it many times. I fear were I Gregor Samsa's mother, I would not be so very sympathetic to his plight.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
F: You know, you can't eat those apples.
Me: I can't eat them?
F: They have to mellow.
Me: Mellow? (why do I keep repeating what he has said??)
F: Yes, you must put them in the refrigerator for at least a month and half or they won't be any good.
Me: Really? You're not teasing me are you? (F has been known to do that on occasion. Before he retired, he was our regular UPS delivery person.)
F: No, I'm not kidding. We usually put ours in the cooler and don't eat them until February.
Okey dokey. So yesterday I had a Golden Delicious, which truly was delicious -- sweet, crsip, a and jucy, and the bag of fresh-off-the-tree Arkansas Black apples are sitting there in the refrigerator, in storage. Go figure. . .
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Saturday, October 16, 2004
Friday, October 15, 2004
Thursday, October 14, 2004
On a drizzly rainy type day that reminds me so much of Oregon I heard from a woman I was good friends with when we lived there some 24 years ago. Things are going well for them. Her daughters are married with children either here or "on the way." Normal. Happy. Well adjusted. I'm happy for them and a little sad and somewhat envious for us that we will likley never have normal. But that's a topic for another time
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
I made some "bars" yesterday from some prunes that Sylvia gave me months before she died. They're good but I managed not to "eat the whole thing" and I'll take 'em into work this morning and surprise the daylights out of everybody.