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Archive for the ‘Food and Drink’ Category

Yesterday I did all the chores, paid the bills, folded the laundry–and even did a little yard work!–after which I felt completely justified in meeting some friends for a lovely dinner at a charming Belgian restaurant.
I have known these ladies for many years; we are all widows, all mothers of large families, all grannies. So there we were, demurely sipping our wine, chatting enthusiastically, and wielding the fork and knife with surpassing skill–when I heard someone calling my name. “Hope! Hope!” I looked up and there was my cousin from Minnesota, his wife and his son! Sitting at the next table!
Well! The lad is going to AU, and his fond parents have visited before, but still, we looked at each other with a wild surmise, struck all of heap. Then of course we all got to chatting and then they said goodbye and went off, leaving us to carouse as before.
Not really so surprising that they should be in that fine little restaurant, actually, being discriminating diners, and as this is their last child, of course they come to visit often. Still, it was a surprise!
It made me think of all the hidden coincidences we know nothing about, the person next to you on the bus whose grandmother, perhaps, was a dear friend of your grandmother–or whose cat is brother to your cat.
Or sister, as it might be.
Or uncle, of course.

In any case, a very fine dinner.

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On Sunday evenings I welcome a darling son to dinner, and thus have a delightful afternoon of cooking and baking–and as I am having a party NEXT weekend, I also made up a few batches of cookie dough in preparation for future festivity.
Sunday is also the day my darling daughter calls from her far away habitation in the exotic northern parts of the United Kingdom, and we chat pleasantly for a time.
Sunday is in fact a charming catch-up-with-family day.
Yesterday’s menu featured chicken pot pie, a favorite dish. As I chatted with far away daughter, I got the chilled pie dough from the fridge and commenced rolling it out. Up and down, back and forth! Finally it was the right size, I set it over the chicken filling, brushed it with egg wash, sprinkled with salt and pepper and WHISKED it into the oven.
An hour later, out it came, handsome, brown, bubbling: a triumph!
But as we ate our pie, it seemed to me that it was somehow–sweeter than chicken pot pie usually is. Good, you know, but...sweet.
AH.
The pie dough still languished in the fridge. I had used the cookie dough to top the pie.
Sigh.
Still, rather tasty. We ate it without complaint.

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In all the excitement of Christmas preparation, it may have happened that I purchased a few more food items than were strictly necessary.

Or even, MUCH MORE than a few.

Adding an impetus to the problem, many of my family found themselves unable to relish their meals due to a superabundance of truly wicked Germs, which caused non-festive behavior and led to much time spent in the smallest room of the house. So that in making a current comprehensive assessment of available viands in the house, I find I could readily entertain as many people this weekend as I did during the festival itself.

However, my children are all fled to the far corners of the earth, and I own to a longing for quiet. Lucky thing there is the FREEZER, that seemly apartment for storing food. Mine is luckily quite capacious. There is also the fact that the current COLD temperatures keep any food items carelessly tossed into the garbage from making themselves known via heinous bad stinks.

So, mostly we are back to pre-holiday status here, aside from the lavishly arrayed freezer. There was however a large container of ricotta which had to either be tossed out or used. HA! There was also a large bag of dried figs (what MADNESS descended on me as I bustled through the bursting aisles at Costco, truly, I am baffled at such wild behavior) and suddenly I thought—FIG AND RICOTTA PIE!

Nice looking, no?

Though what the hell I am going to do with it, one wonders–my powers of eating are limited– but at least I have used up the pint of ricotta!

So there’s that.

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When the painter said he couldn’t start until the 14th, I SHOULD have said, OK, we’ll have to wait until after Christmas. But instead, with that imbecilic fecklessness which is one of my (very few) flaws, I brightly bade him go ahead. Which is why instead of baking cookies, making casseroles, and wrapping gifts, I have spent the weekend dusting books and objets d’art –and they are VERY DUSTY INDEED, (for which I blame no one, least of all, myself) and putting them back on shelves. The shelves are now gleaming white and looking very well indeed, but possibly their former dilapidated and grubby aspect would not have materially depressed our holiday spirits.
SO–having not had time to do all the cooking and baking I usually task myself with, I steeled my nerves and set off for COSTCO to purchase food stuffs. And wine, of course. Getting there is slightly terrifying, a trip I could never make without Siri and her firm directions–horrifying high speed expressways intersecting in bewildering complexities. But, made it there, and as always was overwhelmed–it is a TEMPLE OF GREED–everything you could want is there, towering up to the ceiling in huge piles of luxurious amplitude. I spent quite an astonishing amount of money, filling up my little car, and am now back home and ready for lunch.

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August

The air today was horrid muggy–like having a hot and sweaty hand clasped around your face. Disagreeable, very. But—FRIDAY! So, I left work a little early, to do some shopping and then consider whether a Pina Colada (SO 1970s!) or a Strawberry Daiquiri (SO 1980’s!) or a Dark and Stormy (SO 2016!) would be the best drink with which to celebrate the evening.

HOWSOEVER.
Some sad person decided that today would be a good day to jump in front of a train, and though I of course sympathize with her desperate grief and despair, I will own that one could wish that she had chosen a method that did not discommode thousands of commuters.
But how shameful of me to even think such an unsympathetic thought! Poor fellow human! Who, apparently, did not in fact succeed in her project of self-immolation.
So there’s that.

Also, it turns out that sitting in a well chilled train with a book in hand is not the worst way to pass some time on an oppressive summer afternoon.
So there’s that.
Anyway, I eventually arrived at the station, boarded the bus and made my way home. The sky was ominous with louring clouds–huge storm on the way! As soon as I got home I grabbed shopping list and drove off in haste to grocery store, to get shopping done before apocalypse.
A flash lit up the car dashboard! Was it lightning, announcing the deadly storm?
No, it was that DAMN TRAFFIC CAMERA.
Sigh. Can’t win for losing.
But here is the good thing about today: it is my dear sister-in-law’s birthday! So, Happy Birthday Claire!

May the traffic cameras never see your car and may the rain clouds miss your celebration!

PS. In case you’re wondering, the pina colada won the coveted Which Drink Is Most Lovesome Prize.

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Allan and Rebecca graciously invited me to take part the charming Washington Grove July 4 festivities–how grand to attend this splendid patriotic event! We assembled in the park, the band marched in and took their places–then came the Raising of the Flag, The Musket Volley Salute, a stirring rendition of O Say Can You See, and then The Parade. After all the excitement, we recuperated on Allan’s elegant back porch, and Allan and Rebecca served up a delicious lunch.
I chatted with one of their neighbors, also a new grandmother. We engaged in Granny PhotoBragging. She showed me a pic of her grandson eating ice cream, and I said my grandson is not allowed sugary foods.
Allan sagely murmured, “ah, the Malvolio Diet'” When questioned he explained: “No more cakes and ale.”

Ha HA! Such a wag!

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Freezer Surprise!

This morning I removed a package of Unidentifiable Meat from the freezer to furnish forth my Friday supper. (Household hint: enough garlic can make anything tasty!) Once back home this evening, I made a zesty marinade (=garlic and lemon) and then unwrapped the U.M.
AH.
It was not pork tenderloin as I had expected. It was sliced ham from Christmas, and with a scent evoking the ancient of days. NOT enticing.
Sigh.
I threw it in the garbage disposal.
You know, fried eggs make a very tasty dinner, and are always available. If you have the eggs, that is. And the butter. Which I do.
Image result for fried eggs

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