Food From My Yard - Using What You Have

I am very interested in where what I eat comes from. I also hate waste.
The season for my garden has ended but my old tomato plants continue to make the occasional fruit. I can't bear to let them rot.

This is four recent picks from the sad remnants of the summer garden. They are perched on a pretty piece of Lenox china from the Butterfly Meadow pattern that I found at Ross for a serious discount:)
I'd prefer red tomatoes but leaving the tomatoes to ripen leads to rot/predation so I pick them while they are hard, green little nuggets:)

Since we are eating low-carb I can't flour and fry them so I've been doing different things with them.
Since they can be quite bitter I reccomend you do as I do when you experiment by thinly slicing your 'greenatoes' and adding until you get a taste that suits you.
I like harvesting the things my yard grows - from the cultivated garden, from my grapefruit and calamondin and fig trees. I don't make enough to really do much more than add interest to our diet. It is nice to look at a plate and know something from your yard made it possible:)
There is also a very virtuous feeling to using what I have to make running my home a happy and fulfilling thing.
So - these hard green things. My favorite use so far is in omelets.

Green Tomato Omelets (ingredients per serving)

3 eggs, whisked with the water
1/4 cup shredded sharp cheddar
1 tsp water
1/2 small green tomato, thinly sliced
tbl of meat of choice - cooked sausage, ham or bacon
*optional - tbl sauteed red onion
tsp butter

Whisk the eggs with the water, add a littl salt and pepper. Heat the butter until melted in a small (6-8") pan. When the butter sizzles a bit (have the burner on med) pour in the eggs. Lift the eggs to allow the raw to get under the cooked and rock the pan to keep lifting the cooked egg up and shifting more raw to the cooking surface. When the eggs on the top are glistening and semi-firm, sprinkle the cheese and meat over the surface and spread the thin tomato slices - try to stay at least 3/4 inch from the edges of the pan. After about 20 seconds start the process of rolling the omelet. Lift one edge of the omelet and gently begin rolling it to the other edge. I like to use a spatula and a turner. You don't have to be all fancy in your own kitchen, do what it takes to get a neat outcome:)

If I'm feeling ambitious I'll broil a couple of thick slices of the tomatoes with cheese on top as a nice little side garnish.

Back on Track

I took a week off from the Atkins routine while I was in Orlando last week, starting with a mango smoothie from Smoothie King and ending with french fries from Burger King. I wonder if eating like royalty is an American desire and one that leads to obesity?

We needed to get back into our Atkins eating pattern so tonight I roasted an organically raised, free-range chicken and served that with mustard greens and my take on achichuk salad.
A quick word on free-range chicken. I prefer chicken and eggs that are free range because I think that chickens deserve to be humanely raised and that the meat and eggs from those chickens tastes better. I also feel better about eating meat and eggs from chickens who got to scratch the earth and chase bugs and breathe clean air under an open sky. 
What is achichuk salad, you ask?
It is something delightful we encountered at a little Uzbek restaurant in Panama City. Made of thinly sliced tomatoes, cucumbers and onion, achichuk salad is topped with fragrant herbs that I had to guess at since recipes on line were next door to non-existent.
When we are in phase one our carbs are very restricted and food can become very boring. I wanted our return to the diet to be as pleasant as possible, hence something more interesting than sliced cucumbers or a green salad.

Achichuk Salad

1 ripe tomato, sliced thinly
2 pickling cucumbers, peeled and thinly sliced
1 small red onion, thinly sliced
2 tsp red wine vinegar

salt, pepper to taste
1/4 tsp each of dill and cumin

Layer the sliced vegetables with salt and pepper in a glass dish. Sprinkle with red wine vinegar, then dill and cumin. Adjust the seasonings to your liking; I like up to a half teaspoon of each dill and cumin.
Allow to sit at room temperature for 30 minutes. Serve and be ready for applause.

Bye, bye, Lolo. We love you

Over a year ago I brought home a sniffly-nosed, skinny kitten with diarrhea from my mom's farm. Her vet had prescribed a liquid antibiotic that wasn't clearing up his illness and was making him have the trots.
He was orange and white and so sweet natured that cleaning up the occasional poop spot from the bed spread wasn't a big deal. Bed spreads need to be washed on a regular basis anyway.
We named him Loki - Little Orange KItty.

This is a recent photo of Loki curled up with Randy, one of the senior members of of our fur baby family. Loki liked to hang around with the other cats. His best friend was Fang, our youngest black cat, who is just a little older than Loki.

Loki grew up to become a beautiful boy with a sweet temperament and loving disposition. It is so funny to me that as loving as he always was, he didn't take crap from anyone or anything.
When he first came home I was very worried about the big cats hurting him. He was still kind of scrawny with leaky, poopy butt and a bad upper respiratory infection; disadvantaged in a match against far larger and healthier felines.
The others came to sniff and investigate. Loki, as a farm cat, has lots of cousins and brothers and sisters and was unfazed by the inspection. I suppose he thought they were playing so he chased them, running alongside until he had the right angle to tackle. He'd jump up with his forepaws out to wrap around the big cat's neck and bring him down.
When we brought home our robo-vacuum the other cats gave it a wide berth. Loki was a curious kitty, a brave fellow who wanted to challenge the intruder and insure it knew that cats were supreme in this household. He confronted the monster and showed the others that it was no threat.

Loki threw up last night, the usual chunks of kibble, then vomited more - foam this time. That isn't an ordinary cat reaction in my experience. Monday is surgery day at my Vet's office but they took Loki in and Doc checked him between operations.
Doc said that Loki had kidney disease and was in renal failure. My poor baby needed to go to sleep since he was only going to be in pain. There was no magic to bring my purry Lolo home, no tears that would make him better, no money to get a cure. No choice.

I have cried, sobbed, for Loki today. My head still hurts from crying. I will miss this precious darling.
Mama and Daddy love you, Lolo. Your sleeping place will let you watch birds and your kitty friends as they chase them.

Driving and seeing and working...October 2012

We've had a big problem in the Apalachicola Bay (AB) lately and oysters are mighty scarce, as are other seafoods harvested from the normally bountiful AB.
This puts a lot of people who are self-employed out of work and me and my group into work over-drive to try to ameliorate the situation. We work with other groups to corral resources for survival (food, shelter, power) and to help the affected people make the step to "what's next." We set up training programs to help them make the bridge and to have some money in pockets in the meantime.
It is stressful as hell for all concerned.

I take a deep satisfaction in living where I do, I love the way it looks and smells and the way the ground feels under my feet. When I am as stressed as I am now, I look for the extra pieces of joy to be had from more close observation.
Butterflies are everywhere now, mostly Monarchs, and there are areas planted in Apalach designed to provide sustenance for them on their trip. If you look carefull above, you'll see an orange and black Monarch having a snack in a clump of lantana.

 

 I spend about 40 minutes of my drive to Franklin County running parallel to the Gulf Of Mexico. This is what it looks like on a pretty October day.

This is the front entrance to the Coombs House Inn B&B, the place I stay when I am in Apalach overnight. The picture is sideways because the computer hates me.

Stair case at Coombs House. Also fucking sideways. The wood is black cyprus and used throughout the house.
The groundfloor is dark and cool - large windows shaded by large trees. The upstairs has a wrap-around veranda and all of the rooms have doors leading out.

This is a very small town in a low-population county -- around 11,000 souls total in the county. After I process this experience a little more I'll write about it. I just wanted thes pictures up.
The butterfly photo is reminiscent of particular moments of heart-lifting. There is a very long bridge connecting Apalachicola and Eastpoint. I had to cross this bridge at least six times last week and every time there were clouds of butterflies clipping their way around the few cars crossing.
Even though Apalach sits right on the Gulf and the Apalachcicola River, I never smelled the things that say "healthy coast" to me - no salt, no fish, no crabby corpses.
There is something wrong.

It Is Working for Us!

We have been following the Atkins Diet since May 1 with a few cheat days along the way and have lost pounds.
My Darling Charlie has lost 30+ pounds ( he only weighs at the doctor's office) and I have lost 20 +/- 4 pounds that keep coming and going. We need to start some exercise the keep the loss going but in the meantime, what we have dropped has helped us.
Charlie's doctor is very happy with his weightloss as it affects his blood sugar levels in a positive way.
I am happy that I look better and that when he wraps his arms around me they go alllll the way around me and my arms can hug him close to me.
It's good to look in the mirror and see the face I expect instead of that face plus two chins:)

Rainy Spring Day and Atkins - Soup? How???

It has rained for the past two days. Sometimes hard, sometimes soft drops that just frizz your hair.
The cats have been confused. In? Out? Both, rapidly?

We are Soup People when it rains. For the past few years, our Rainy Day soup has been Spanish Bean soup (see archives) but with Dr. Atkins ruling our lives, beans are out.
My first thought was that as long as I have Limestone Country sausage and chicken broth I can do anything.
Rooting around in the refrigerator turned up half a head of cabbage and about 1/8 of a purple onion.
Onions are high carb items but this little chunk wouldn't yield more than 2 carbs and still be enough to give flavor to the soup. Cabbage, for one medium head, is about 51 net carbs.  Waaaay too many for our stage of Atkins.  But half a head is around 25 and when added to this recipe the average serving contains a lot less. A 32 ounce container of Organic chicken broth has 4 carbs and the sausage and spices have zero carbs. Here's how it worked:

Rainy Day Soup
1 lb link sausage, sliced. Preferably country smokehouse style; otherwise, add sage, crushed red pepper, celery salt, cumin and oregano to taste.
1/2 head of a medium cabbage, chopped
1 ounce minced red onion
1 32 ounce container organic chicken broth
salt, pepper, paprika to taste

Put the sausage and onion in a soup pot over medium heat and stir occasionally while you chop the cabbage. When the onion bits are translucent, add the cabbage. Stir and toss a few minutes until cabbage wilts a bit, add the chicken broth and bring to a boil for two minutes or so then reduce to a simmer.
Simmer for fifteen minutes (or more, if you like). Taste and season, add a little olive oil if you think the mouth-feel is too watery. Add a cup or two of water if needed.
This is actually four servings but we ate it all ourselves!

Carbs per cup: approx. 8.5
As we ate it, 17 carbs for the meal, below our daily allowance of 20-25.

I made it extra dense as far as solid ingredients to reduce the longing for crackers or bread.

Through Thick and Thin

That should have been in our wedding vows, just like the "for richer, for poorer" thing. For almost 18 years now, my darling has told me that I am beautiful, that I am not fat - regardless of what mad thing I have done to my hair or whether I was a size six or a size, er, XL.
I have managed to creep too close to XXL for comfort and my handsome Charlie has also grown expansive across the middle. Since he has more potential complications based on health as far as diets go I told him to ask his doctor what she recommended. She promoted Atkins, so carbs have nearly disappeared from my life. His too, for that matter!

Luckily, we like meat. Especially BEEFS! Grilled steaks make me happy, and if he has over-cooked them I mix up my version of Tzatzki sauce or chimichurri sauce for a minor carb flavor boost. Today began our 8th day of Atkins Induction and we have been good except for Friday and Saturday night and our failings then were small. Charlie's 45th class reunion was this past weekend and we had decided we were going to drink, but cautiously.
I took a couple of flavors of Mio with me with which to flavor Vodka and water and Charlie was going to stick with Crown Royal and diet Coke.
But it was Cinco de Mayo. And he had to have a margarita! Or three...and since he was going off the reservation I followed, opting for grapefruit juice in my vodka after my first Mio and V.  Saturday night I poured a glass of my favorite jug wine and thought for a second that I had gotten a bad jug. It tasted like kerosene smells.
I hadn't had a glass of wine in a week and my tastebuds had developed a dislike for what I used to drink every day.
That is good. Even though low in carbs, wine has calories enough to slow weight loss and my body has to burn through the booze carbs before it heads for fat stores.
This is just to get my hands used to channeling thoughts onto a screen again and will face some heavy re-writing soon:)

A Lazy Day

I've been remiss in posting but I have been busy living and working but today...today was a beautifully lazy day.
Charlie got home from Vegas on Thursday night. He'd been at the National Association of Broadcaster's convention and had a large time but was tired. He went to work Friday and had to do a lot of catching up so he came home even more tired yesterday afternoon.I worked in Gulf County on Friday and came home knackered myself.
We slept in today, waking up to a rainy morning and lethargic cats.

So we found a good disaster movie and snuggled into our respective favorite "nests" (he in his lounger, I in my reclined couch) and watched. I can't remember the last time we were so completely committed to doing Nothing. We talked desultorily about food neither of us wanted to cook and decided that we would go to an oyster bar in Lynn Haven.                  

This place is only open on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays and not even then when the owner doesn't feel the need to crack oysters and steam crawfish.                                      The place is an old filling station (it pre-dates the term "gas station") with a bar, hard stools, repurposed fast food store booths and a soda station that faces the customer service area to facilitate the self-service expected for all but those consuming alcoholic beverages. Charlie had a diet coke, I decided to have one my my rare beers and we both ordered two dozen raw. I like mine on the tiny side, with nothing but a little lemon squeezed onto them. He dresses his with hot sauce, cocktail sauce and horseradish.

We sat and watched the rain fall again and the few other folks out on this drizzly afternoon who were willing to get damp for surly service and non-fancy seafood. A trio of travelers came in from a very large motorcoach in search of Apalachicola oysters; we assured them that they were in the right place. Two men and a woman, the younger of the two men (probably 60-ish)  asked if the place had "Ying-Ying" beer. The owner speaks all varieties of Southern and understood the man to want a Yuengling beer. The two men of the party amiably discussed the virtues and downfalls of oysters from Mobile Bay, Bayou La Battre, and the west coast and the overall supremacy of the Apalach Oyster for its saltiness, richness, firmness and general deliciousness. I have to agree.

The lady of the group wandered the room and read the newsclippings on the wall about gators caught in lakes, sharks in the bay, and other assorted outdoor accomplishments. 

Other people wandered in to buy take-out crawfish and raw shrimp. The owner said he'd bought 6 more bags of crawfish than he normally did and was still all sold out of live ones by Friday. He put one bag (about 40 pounds) aside for the dine-in clients  and steamed up 5 pounds for the ladies seeking live ones. The big man who wanted raw shrimp had to wait while our oysters were shucked by the father and daughter team running the bar.

They are the kind of people who smile rarely, but when you get one of their smiles, it warms you.                                                                                                             

The little oyster bar serves its shucked bivalves on old lunchroom trays with a sleeve of saltines, a roll of paper towels, and condiments on the counter. Side dishes come on foam disposable plates with plastic utensils to transport the food from plate to mouth.             

They serve the oysters with a tiny fork but as a true Gulf girl I pick my oysters up with my fingers, check for shell and pop them into my mouth. I only use the fork on the steamed ones so I can dip them into butter without greasing my fingers. Charlie uses his fork to place his 'dressed' oysters on top of a saltine.Our raw dozens didn't quite fill the holes for protein we had so he ordered steamed crawfish and I had another dozen oysters, steamed this time. We got on the outside of those pieces of deliciousness, smiled contentedly at each other, and decided we needed to go grocery shopping next.                                                                             

We attended to our mundane needs ( toilet paper, cat treats, bread, eggs and milk) and came home to cats ready for their afternoon feeding. We are doing things now; laundry, bill-paying, picking up and putting away and the Day of Lazy is over. 

We should do this more often.                  

                                

Christmas Treats! Truffles and Pecans and Cats - OH MY!

I have been off my post level since November - too much to do and not enough time to think deep thoughts, much less write proper sentences that weren't work-related.

Christmas is now 5 days away and I am at last making treats. Praline Pecans are one of my specialities, much-loved by people who get to eat them and easy enough for me to make while doing other things.
This receipe is based on a Southern Living 1997 Annual Recipes entry.

3 cups freshly-shelled pecan halves
4 tbl Heavy cream
1 cup tightly packed brown sugar
Confectioner's sugar
Ghiaradelli Chocolate Powder

Spray an 8.5 x 11" glass or metal baking pan lightly with cooking spray, pre-heat oven to 350.
Check pecan halves for shells, mix in a bowl with cream and brown sugar until all halves are covered.
Pour into pan, bake for 12 minutes; stir, and bake another eight. Ths is very important to watch carefully. Most ovens (unless regularly calibrated) have different heats and you do not want to burn something as expensive as pecans. You may have to add/subtract minutes or reduce temps for your own comfort. I usually bake mine at 325 for 25-28 minutes. When you stir them at twelve minutes you can see how much more time they really need. They are ready to take up when you see granulation on the pecans.
Pull them from the oven, cool for a minute or two while you get a cup of confectioner's sugar and a cup of chocolcate powder, a sieve and 2 pie plates ready.
Pour a tbl or so of confectioner's sugar into your sieve and then add about half of the pecan mix in, shake over the pie plate and add more sugar as you shake until the pecans are coated. Empty the pecans into the pie plate with the used sugar to cool.
Pour the other half of the pecans into the confectioner's sugar-coated sieve, shake, add chocolate powder a tbl at a time while shaking over the other pie plate until the pecans are coated. Pour pecans into pie plate to cool.
I use the same sieve without cleaning because the chocolate powder benefits from the confectioner's sugar reside.
Let this all cool for an hour or so, put in airtight storage and get ready to be assaulted for your delicious offerings:)

Now, about those truffles.....

They are far more tasty than attractive. My hands were too hot to roll the cubes into balls so I settled for just having rounded edges. The recipe produced a delicious and smooth ganache so I suggest you give Cooks Illustrated a look for the technique and make this in cooler climes.

The cats seem to know the holidays are here and that I need my $ for other things than their toys and treats and have been intent on reminding me of my priorities. Wink had an abcess that we caught pretty quickly but was small enough to burst before we got her to Doc. We took her in, he shaved and cleaned the area, gave her the vacinations for which she was due and some antibiotic and we were about $200 poorer. Then Pojorita stopped eating so we had to take her in. She had apparantly eaten something that clogged her innards and after a bit of barium she was fine. Since she was old enough we went ahead and had her spayed. Goodbye, $300.....My sweet basement cat Fang was next to require an investment. He has gotten old enough that his little bowlz make our feral male think he's competition so Tuxedo had apparantly gotten a good claw into his underside, producing another abcess.
So Fang went to see Doc to have the abcess drained and seen to and his little nards nipped. Another $350.00. Fang is feeling better, his black fur is shiny and healthy again; Wink has been ruling the house for some weeks now and Pojorita has resumed eating everything that smells interesting. Except for string, I hope.

Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Joyous Winter Solstice and general Good wishes to you all and thanks for reading:)

Go West, Young Woman!

I enjoy the west coast of the US. It is so different from here; the coastline itself is lapped by cold water instead of the warm water that kisses toes here on the Gulf.
And as far as colonization goes, many western ports are far older than my home shores.
We spent a few days in Seattle, WA.

This landmark was walking distance to our hotel (The Marriot in the Alaska Building). The Farmer's Market had pretty produce - fat raspberries and blackberries alongside unseasonably pretty tomatoes. I sniffed those and knew they'd received help to get the color. The berries were solid, though, and I wanted them - bu we were on our way to a restaurant with friends and had to pass.
We got to Washington on Saturday night. The weather was cool and a little damp and the ride to the hotel lives in my head as a swoosh of lights reflected from wet leaves as the cab climbed a mountain and I looked down into the valley. I was hot and had the cab window down so I could feel the wind on my scalp and cool my face.
Our first night was in a hotel in Bellevue; we moved the next day to Seattle to the conference hotel. Charlie grumbled about "the longest hotel check-in ever" but we got a HUGE room. We had an entryway, bed space and living space with windows covering two walls. If you ever have to stay in the Marriot Courtyard Downtown in Seattle, stay in a room ending in 10 or 02. HUGE.
We ate at fabulous restaurants. Best meal? The Metropolitan Grill.

I love beef carpaccio. It is usually served with arugula and sliced parmesan reggiano, drizzled with extra virgin olive oil. This is Wagyu beef carpaccio and, my darlings, it was fabulous. Wagyu is the US version of Kobe in which (I think) Kobe and Black Angus are bred to bring the marvel that is Wagyu to plates. For my entree I had the paired filets; one of Nebraska beef, one of Wagyu. After tasting each I just wrapped the Nebraska beef and ate my wonderful Wagyu.
It is, simply, unbelievable. Mine was cooked medium rare, more on the rare side, and seasoned with a sprinkle of salt, grilled over mesquite wood.It was tender and perfetly beefy without the 'dull' taste some beef can have. My family has raised cattle for beef for what seems like forever so I am particular about my beef - this was better than anything from the Beaty Ranch.
I am running out of steam since in addition to a love for Wagyu I have brought back a sinus infection (or something) which is kicking my butt. I feel like the boxer who was losing the bout who shouted "no mas! no mas!"
No mas snot  y coughs, por favor.

History and Me

I think I may have noted somewhere that I majored in History at FSU. I had planned on teaching community college; nice classes of people learning Western Civ that I could regale with the stories of the 6 wives of Henry the 8th, court gossip, old scandals that help today's students remember the important parts...That's not where I ended up but my interest in social/intellectual history colors my view of the world even now.
That facet of my personality made this week's trip to DC even more exciting than usual.
I was going with colleagues because of a Microsoft Foundation grant we are operating, which meant meeting at DC's Microsoft HQ. That, in itself, would have been plenty exciting for most people. What I was focussed on were my two wishes: an aftershock from the earthquake that had rocked DC a few weeks earlier and the opportunity to gather with a group related to the Occupy Wall Street protest.
My few days were dwindling away and I feared I wouldn't get either wish - I comforted myself with the fact that I had finally tasted Iberico Ham at Jaleo and that it was all I had hoped it would be - silky, melt-on-the-tongue cured ham that I will eat again.
On the last morning, the USA Today paper had an article about Occupy DC along with its location. At Last!

The protesters were at Freedom Plaza on the corner of 14th and Connecticut Avenues. My hotel was on New York Ave, a long trek away for a fat woman with a bad ankle. Oh, yes - the ankle I twisted on the same foot as the toes I had broken! I had twisted it again the previous morning when we climbed to the Russel Building to meet some Senators. I was determined to get there and really needed to walk off a few of the calories I had so eagerly consumed in the previous days.

This was the first picture I took. See the foot under the bench? That belongs to the woman holding the sign. She had it facing the street when I first saw her, looked over her shoulder and saw me and understood my turn-the-sign-around mime efforts and did so.
I've been saying for a long time that people need jobs that pay a living wage. I'm not talking communism/gimme, I am talking about paying people what their labor is worth. The CEOs are skating off with not just the biggest piece of the pie, but the VERY biggest piece.

This poster vilifies some CEO who got a big-ass bonus while foreclosing on homes - not really sure about the details but my contention has always been, even before this crisis, "how many islands can you own? How much do you really need to have a luxurious life?"
I think a lot less than they have now. I am not in favor of direct wealth re-distribution (i.e. take the rich folks' bank accounts and divvy them up) but restructuring the tax system so the middle class pays less, the rich pay more, and business and industry can't have a profit margin greater than 20% of payroll after you subtract operating expenses. People used to be able to have one breadwinner in a household and still have enough money (in all cases but the poorest) to own a house. I know abut the exceptions, this is a sweeping generalization.

My focus was on the piece of Occupy DC that concentrated on the economic side of the nation's problem. There were lots of other parts of the protest, threads to make a whole tapestry. The people against the Tar Sands pipeline, many elderly and wealthy-looking, were present along with the anti-war folks (which included quite a few veterans) as well as others; all of whom made up the consensus of the whole: Government should be about US, not the corporate interests who can line the pockets of Congress.
I came home Friday night. It was my eleventh wedding anniversary, 17 years total of being with the exactly right man for me.

My beloved Charlie had a vase of a dozen of my favorite roses, secured by a small box on the base to prevent any cat-astrophe, waiting for me. The cats twined around my ankles and sang "give us treats!" while I read my anniversary cards. I hugged and kissed my darling and decided that I had had enough "going" for a few days and would indulge in a little "staying" for the next few days in my perfect little corner of the world.

Autumnal Aire

Doesn't that just sound sweet and heady? Like music with high notes from flutes and zithers, the scent of ripe pears, the beginning of citrus blossoms gracing the air...
It was like I went to bed Thursday night wearing a stinky fur coat of humidity and awoke free and weightless Friday morning.
I forget the joy of the first little bit of fall we get here. It seems to my memory that there is far too little of that; that we just barrel down the seasonal highway from being mugged by heat to feeling like our eyelashes are so cold they'll break.
Friday morning I finished writing a grant, the glass door to the deck open so the cats could flow in and out like the breeze. I worked at the breakfast nook table so I could see the activity in the yard through the three big windows.The temptation to "help" me work is usually so high that an open door to the garden isn't enough to draw away my furry distractions. Everything smelled and felt so good to them this morning that I worked in peace.
We went to dinner with the Son, Darling DIL and GrandBeauty to celebrate the pending arrival of a new family member in March. The Beauty is not quite 2 years old but displays (naturally enough!) remarkable intelligence. She was very good at dinner, no shrieks, many charming behaviors.

Look at those pigtails! She is eating organic gummies as her appetizer and shared some cheese with us as well as some of her Mama's Spaghetti Carbonara.
After dinner, the men went to the cars to put away leftovers and we three girls went into the street for Octoberfest.
Jacq had been so good we let her run unfettered. DIL pointed out that Jacq was running with her nose up, questing the air like a cat or dog, enjoying the wind on her face and the fragrances of fall in a Florida City.

My Own Little World

That's where I lived this weekend. Charlie was in Pigeon Forge being a Ham and I didn't have the extra cash to engage in Big Shopping so I amused myself at home.
Of course, the mountain o'laundry had to be done, but that is the perpetual background music to my weekends so it just happened while other things went on. I stopped at the grocery on my way home from the office on Friday to pick up special food treats for me since otherwise I'd just eat garbage food. Got some pretty cantalope, thin-sliced proscuitto and some sashimi. The Japanese kid behind the sushi cooler at Publix and I had to have an extensive conversation involving lots of pointing and drawing of imaginary sashimi in the air before we had what I wanted settled between us.
I don't like the rice part of the whole sushi/nigiri/sashimi experience (I use all 3 dish names because the whole thing has been so bastardized) and I am particular about what I do like: raw tuna with cucumber sticks and slices of avocado topped with ground pepper, sea salt and fresh lime juice. NOM.
I set the tuna free from the eel ribbon with which it had been wrapped around the green goodness, gave all a quick chop, dressed and tossed it. I had a little of the cantalope wrapped in the ham and called myself full.
Saturday I boiled ten pounds of chicken leg quarters with onion, celery and garlic to make food for the cats and stock for us. The latter was accidental - I was boiling the leg quarters three at a time and after I put the third batch into the pot in the same liquid I noticed that the color was pretty rich - gave it a taste and decided to pay more attention to the broth-becoming-stock.
As a reward, I used my martini shaker to make a version of a Spring Flowers (ala Highlands Restaurant) martini. I used equal parts St. Germain Elderflower liquor and vodka and one jigger of Sparkling Ice pink grapefruit drink.

It was delicious!
Today Charlie came home and we lounged around, watched the cats play and napped.  I got a cute picture text from a friend based on a nickname I have - woozy- of something she saw with a version of that name.

A "woozie" is apparantly a wine koozie. Clever, eh?
Charlie is happily ensconced in his recliner with a soup mug full of chicken and dumplings and I am re-eneregized for another week out in the Big World.

Football Food!!!

I really dislike winter. I can tolerate fall, but for me, spring and summer are my seasons of existence. I must be related to Persephone, that pretty mythic princess whose mother cursed the earth with cold for the months her darling had to spend in Hell every year.
The only positive for me about cold months is the food I can create and serve that are more suited to the cool months so tonight I baked something that is a good party snack, football treat or breakfast on the run.
The chili-cheese pickup is an old favorite that I serve with malt vinegar or hot sauce or just plain 'nekkid.'

Chili Cheese Pickups

1 carton Better N Eggs plus 3 large eggs
1 1/2 cup SR flour
pint carton cottage cheese
2 cup shredded sharp cheddar
1 stick butter, melted
1 4 oz can green chilis, chopped
1/2 cup chopped jalapenos (more if you like hot)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees, spray a glass 9 x 13 pan with cooking spray. Mix all ingredients together, give a couple of grinds of pepper and about a half tsp of salt and stir again. Be sure the eggs are well-blended with the flour etc to make a relatively smooth (except for cheese curds) mixture.

Pour into baking dish and bake for 15 minutes at 400, reduce heat to 350 and bake another 20-25 minutes.
This bakes up pretty because of the Better N Eggs. Don't use Egg Beaters or all eggs if you can avoid it - they dont produce a pleasing texture or mouthfeel. I use real butter because you are not supposed to eat this like quiche - this should be cut into two inch squares with one or two squares eaten per normal person:)
This reheats like a dream in the microwave, about 20 seconds on high per square wrapped in a paper towel.
Play with this recipe by adding more chilis or peppers, adding malt vinegar or pepper sauce before baking, even sauteeing some onion and sausage and adding that. Just be sure you've drained the grease off of the sausage thoroughly before adding to the egg mixture.

The sun is setting earlier, the air is losing its moisture and the temperatures are dropping. I am going to start my list of Reasons Winter Months Can Be Tolerated so I'll be ready when February gets here. If we can stay warm through October it won't be so bad....

The End Of The World

Tomorrow is the ten year anniversary of the end of a way of life. I remember flying, living before the attacks in September of 2001. I also remember having to fly about a week afterwards.
Reflecting on that morning and the days that followed reminded me of a belief I have always held; the world will end on a normal day. That September day fit the bill. It was a typically beautiful early fall day in north Florida and when the radio announcer said planes had flown into the World Trade Center my mind shifted into a bit of a fugue state. I saw my hands, I knew they were on the steering wheel. I also knew that my body knew the way to my office so I let my auto-pilot take over.

In March of 1993 I was barely 32 years old and on my second gig as a country radio station program director. I didn't particularly like country music, but I liked programming and understood the business and how to manage the infantile personalities most disc jockeys had. We had a contract engineer instead of one on staff which meant that when I had an equipment problem that I couldn't fix, I called him.
My station went off the air somewhere around three am that March day and my overnight girl called to let me know. I started trying to figure out why the power was out at my transmitter site some 40 miles away but the power co-op wouldn't answer. I called the engineer. His name is Charles, and he is still an engineer, but then he was a very young engineer and trying to be brave when he picked me up at my studios. It was just starting to work towards a grey dawn when we got close to the transmitter site. Driving out of Tallahassee was like playing hopscotch. We had to dodge tree limbs in the roads and highways and jittered over diet cokes as we took 90 minutes to make a 45 minute trip.
I don't think the sky got past a sickly shade of pale pear the entire day, and all of the wind that had made the night frightening had sucked away across the Gulf leaving nothing but stillness.
I knew my parents were safe, they were in Tallahassee too and we had only experienced the equivalent of a cat 1 hurricane. Rain, rain; wind, wind, power outage and some downed limbs. Other family and friends were down close to the Gulf and that was where the horror was.

When I was a kid, my dad was head Forest Ranger and we lived on a compound. There was a sweet lady who lived there, too, with her Forest Ranger husband and young children. Her name was Miss Allie Jean. Her family all lived on the corner of a canal and the Gulf in big houses on stilts that were connected to each other by walkways high off the ground. We used to go crabbing in their canal, and I remember being 6 or 7 and looking up at those three houses knitted together by wood slats and rope.
Her family woke up in the middle of that wild night to water, 12 feet high, lashing in from our normally gentle beach.They ran to be together in the house furtherest back from the water by ten feet or so and held hands to try to save themselves from the suck of the outgoing waves. The storm picked them off like sweet grapes from a stem. Allie Jean lost eleven of her brothers, sisters, neices and nephews and even her mother that night. 
That day, that dreadful pale-green sky day, was an End of the World day. That was what the Last Day should look like.
Not that sweet, soft September day ten years ago.

This is my new reality. I live close to one major airbase and less than two driving hours from two others. Paradise with a poisoned thorn - who wants to live next to the Big Red X?

Apparantly me since I moved here.

Lazy Weekend

I stayed home most of the weekend and it was dee-light-ful. Now, if I only had about another three weeks of that I'd get something done around here:) I need to reorganize both guest rooms, clean out my pantry and about a dozen-ty million other things nobody but me can do.
But this weekend...I got my hair cut and colored by a real hairdresser for the first time since last October. I had suspended that personal service while I paid a credit card down since it was easily $150-$200 a month between color and product purchases.

Isn't that pretty? I feel really good about it.
I have spent the summer with my hair in a bun and am ready to be pretty again. I am ready to peel off some poundage, too. I was so active all summer that I lost weight but now that I am back in my office I believe there are fat globules following me and waiting for me to sit down so that they can re-attach. I am going to start using the Sensa I bought to make myself eat less. That's the whole point of the stuff and I have three or four month's worth that I have barely made a dent in. I would not put it on things that I wanted to eat because I wanted to EAT them, not eat part of them. Well, that isn't working so time to just eat part of what it is that I want. I have a few hundred dollars worth of the stuff so I might as well give it a good try.
I am between a size 16-18 right now as a reference point and I am aiming for a size 8-10.
I have to check into the gym at work (argh) since I clearly am not going to walk around the neighborhood. I am not morbidly obese but far larger than I'd like to be. After a certain point on a short person's body extra weight can't figure out where to go and just plops itself wherever. That makes clothes shopping damn hard. Too small for Woman's World, too big for Petites and the only slacks that fit in Misses are the ones meant to be mid-calf. So I've been living in Chico's Travellers short length stuff and stretchy waisted other stuff. Time to get pretty again, though I'll never be thin I can go back to nicely curvy.
The one really useful thing I did this weekend was find the gift bag I had hidden from the cats which contained my Granddaughter's gift from Alabama. There was a store of cutesy stuff that carried Vera Bradley and the little one has decided she likes carrying a purse. Naturally I had to contaminate this innocent desire on her part with some label snobbery - low level, but there just the same. This is the GrandBeauty modelling her new purse in the Vera pattern "Happy Snails,"  purse style 'Caitlyn.'

I spent hours looking for the gift bag. I found it in the china cabinet.

Tomorrow is a chicken night with a new recipe that I will share after I've worked it through.

You Can Tune A Piano but....

...you can't tuna fish - ar, ar.

We grilled our first tuna steaks in years tonight. I say "we," but Charlie is the Grill Master and I season (sometimes) and marinate and talk about times before turning.
Our first tuna steak from the grill was an expensive mistake. Tonight was near perfection, and since Publix had frozen tuna steak on sale it wasn't expensive.

We used the Ina Garten/Barefoot Contessa approach of Less Is More with the tuna. A brush of good olive oil, sea salt, pepper and a hot gril for 2 minutes per side and the tuna was done.
I also cooked some shelled edamame in water with about half a cup of chicken stock with my favorite seasonings. I cooked them longer that I usually do because Charlie asked for them to be more tender. A fresh salad of green lettuce, cucumber, tomato and red onion with a few orange slices and balsamic vinegar rounded out the meal. I don't know why people say "fresh salad," but I did to indicate that I cleaned the ingredients minutes before serving. No bagged nuffin' here:)

I was pretty pleased with this meal because there were no animals treated inhumanely in the process - the tuna were wild harvested, chicken stock organic. Best of all, everything my darling ate tonight was healthy for him.
Yes, I just watched "Julie and Julia" and am full of the love Julia Child (JC - any coincidence?) had for her husband and for food. I am regenerated and ready to do more elegant cooking after a summer of cooking to the least common denominator - the tastebuds of a ten year old.....

"They're Outrageous"

In 1972 I was an 11 year old dreamer with a record player and a firm belief that (a) there were aliens from space and they were smarter than humans and (b) I was a lost alien.
I was beginning to define myself musically and culturally through what I liked to hear, read and wear. In about a year I convinced my parents to let me stay home from church and fry the chicken for lunch. I read anything I could get my hands on (my mom was SO cool - I read Erica Jong!) and wore my cool aunt's sandals and jeans when I was 13.
The album was "Can't Buy a Thrill" and the hit was "Reeling in The Years."
I learned the album by heart, and did the same for all subsequent Dan releases.
There was something subversive in the lyrics that appealed to my off-center sense of humor and the word choices the boys made, the imagery they created, built the world in which I was supposed to live.
I am/was a slinky shadow haunting alleys of rain-dark glass, the female version of Clint Eastwood's spaghetti western no-name loner. When I had a name, I was Josie (Aja, 1977), the raw flame/the live wire; drinking my big black cow and dime dancing with plans for a nap later under some banyan trees.
So for years seeing Donald Fagen and Walter Becker play live was something I desperately wanted to do. And for years they flat would not tour. They didn't like it. Then they broke up. And I listened to their solo stuff and waited.
The 90's saw them together again and they continued to be the soundtrack to my inner self.
And they started touring again. Just the northeast to start, then they stretched out, and in 2011 they played the Wharf Ampitheatre in Orange Beach, AL.

That's Orange Beach. I took that photo behind the famous Flora-Bama bar. The Ampitheatre at the Wharf is seriously in the middle of a stand of pines - you get there by walking across elevated wooden ramps. They span what might be a swamp or mayhap just some low ground that probably has snakes in it but at least we're ten feet above it. I am getting ahead of myself - let me back up.
In April we learn the Dan will be on tour in the South and Orange Beach is the closest spot. My darling husband gets tix and I start dreaming. We left for OB Saturday before the show, had dinner, watched tv and sacked out.
Sunday we had brunch at Cobalt, highly reccomended.

The decor is light, bright, and a little funky. Loved the mermaid!

After brunch we went to the Flora-Bama bar on the Florida-Alabama line. The bar is famous and odd and about half-built. We loved it.

A bolt was loose in the second floor roof piling so Charlie HAD to play with it. I had a cartoon vision of him pulling that one bolt free and the whole place falling down around us. The two of us are seen after the dust clears standing with drinks in hand atop the wreckage, exchanging a glance and shrugging, taking a sip and sauntering off down the beach.

These posters were in nearly every window of the shops at the Wharf. I was so excited that I could hardly stand myself so I can imagine how Charlie felt, walking in the near drizzle with an adult woman who periodically screeched "EEEEEE!"
We very sensibly bought rain ponchos that could have doubled as garbage can liners from a sunglasses store and walked to the venue. My hair began to absorb water and make the ambient humidity in my bubble rise so I put it up in a twist and kept smiling. It was raining, I was in a stand of planted pines in Alabama on a rusted folding chair. BUT Steely Dan would be taking the stage soon and the place sold booze - expensive and limited, but booze.
Then the guys hit the stage - and life was good. They played a lot of old stuff, a lot of my favorites and one of my newer favorites ('Godwhacker,' which appeals to the Roger Zelazny fan in me) and all around us were people as happy to be there as I was. I sang along and noticed that there was a lot of that going on - EVERYONE knew the lyrics. Suddenly I was a loner in a crowd of them - and we were all happy, non-brooding types singing "Boddhisatva - Gonna sell my house in town!"
'Deacon Blues' got a lot from the crowd because of the lyrical reference to Alabama's legendary Crimson Tide football team.
Thirty-nine years after my ears first heard the complexity of Steely Dan I got to see them live surrounded by other people who were as full of Dan-love as I am.
Although this could have happened without him, it would not have been as wonderful, memorable, or happy without my Charlie.
His eyes are the color of Gulf water and he can take the world apart and reassemble it even better if someone would just hand him the correct screwdriver.
And we lived happily ever after:)

Not Too Late!

I am so happy that all of the fresh vegetables of summer have not come and gone before I could cook some of them from fresh!
I went to my favorite produce stand today in hopes of getting SOMEthing, even if it was just green peanuts. Imagine my delight to find fresh corn, cream 12 peas and okra.

Tomorrow night I am going to roast a fat duck and serve it with creamed corn, field peas and fried okra. The peas are easy enough - rinse them, put them in enought water to cover plus an inch and a half, pop in a ham hock and some ham base and cook til good. Fried okra and creamed corn are a different kettle of fish. People make it too hard for themselves and ruin the fresh goodness in the process. Easiest recipe first - Creamed Corn!

5-6 ears fresh corn, husked and silked
1/2 tsp bacon grease
1 tbl water
salt and pepper to taste

Cut the nibletss from the corn and be sure to squeeze the "milk" from the cobs. Ihave a corn stripper but you can do this with a paring knife. I like to conduct this part of the prep over a glass pie plate because you can scrape the milk and niblets out more easily.
In a non-stick pan melt the bacon grease (optional, but makes it better. If you've cooked bacon for breakfast, just scrape the plate it drained on and you should have enough) and add the corn niblets and milk, heat on medium low. The corn should thicken - add a little salt and pepper. The cooking process doesn't take long, maybe five minutes or so, because you don't want to make glue of the corn or completely cook away the crispness. Taste it and stop cooking when it tastes good to you. Add little bits of water as needed to keep the corn the proper consistency.

Fried Okra
This is my favorite thing to share when it comes to country vegetable cooking tips. Okra shouldn't be dunked in breading and fried like a popper.
2 pounds fresh okra, rinsed, topped and tailed and cut into quarter to half inch pieces
corn meal
Bacon grease:)
Canola Oil
salt and pepper

Scatter about a half cup of the cornmeal (I use buttermilk cornmeal mix) over the okra cuts, toss til the okra pieces are well covered. The meal should stick to the okra pretty well. After you've rinsed it, go straight to the cutting so you don't lose any liquid. Add a little salt and pepper. Add a tablespoon of bacon grease and a tablespoon of canola oil to a non-stick or cast iron skillet and melt it over medium high heat. Toss the okra a bit to shake loose the meal that isn't coating the vegetable.
When a drop of water sizzles in the pan, add the okra and let it cook a few moments, move the okra around the pan with a spatula and try to let as many surfaces receive a crisping as possible. Reduce heat to medium and continue to stir around; okra should be tender in fifteen minutes. You can remove it from heat and let it sit while other dishes cook and then pop it back on a burner on high for  minute or so to reheat.

Working on Healing

I am still mourning the loss of my handsome and darling Cabrillo. My son says that there have been coyote cat-kills a block from our house in the past month.
I don't know about that. I continue to subscribe to the county shelter's newsletter to see if any of the furry faces doing time there are familiar and call the city shelter regularly. Luckily they are both no-kill so if my baby turns up there he won't be euthanized.
On a happier note, we ate brunch at a restaurant with a stupid name but good food that could have been better.
One of the dangers of closed-dish buffet service is out of sight, out of mind. Workers walk right past food that has sat for so long that a steak knife won't cut it.
I had to ask for some refills on the salad bar, an area out of staff view.
The fresh items were really good and the grits bar/eggs and waffles to order were also well done.
There were quite a few dishes that gave me ideas and some things served so simply that they were surprising - hearts of palm with a little olive oil and paprika, succotash served cold, make with grilled corn niblets cut off the cob and shelled edamame. My favorite breakfast entree was their open-faced po' boy which was unlike any po'boy I'd had before. they start with a thin slice of French bread, a piece of filet mignon that has been pounded, breaded and fried like chicken fried steak, a teaspoon or so of cheese grits topped with a sunnyside-up quail egg. Lovely!

To my taste, quail egg yolks are richer than the average hen's egg. And I eat cage-free hen eggs which sport thick, yellow yolks so I have a particularly specialized egg palate.
Anyway, next time I need to make a brunch I think I may create a brunch of quail eggs on English muffin cubes. A dab of hollandaise on the muffin to create a seat for the egg and some proscuitto on the side.