This title appeals to me for several reasons today. One is because I hate it when I don't see (understand) someone else's point - or I cannot adequately express mine to change their stance.
It issue is me having a bartender use the phrase " We have some real whisky from Scotland, Mr. Hannaford."
My writing instructor says if it's from Scotland, it must be real. Since this is circa 1880 I am trying to distinguish that he is being offered "true" Scotch - instead of something brewed here in the US and passed off as Scotch, so I disagree with her interpretation.
Her next suggestion was that I should then just name the bottler (Glenlivet or whatever), which would indicate it was "real". I have no desire to hunt around and find out who was importing/exporting Scotch into San Francisco at this time, and think it's perfectly reasonable to expect that some sea captain purchased several cases of fine Scotch in Scotland - with the plan to sell them for a profit in San Francisco.
For the sake of keeping the discussion moving forward, I said ok. But clearly INSIDE I am not saying ok. I think I am going to be petulant and stamp my feet for a little while longer - and inside know I AM RIGHT - while on the outside I am removing the damn word "real".
Other than that - things are going well with the story. She thinks I am to the point of putting all the bits and pieces together - and then starting to weave in the missing (but known to me) links. In some ways I am excited that I'm to this point - and in others I am afraid to death. I kind of like feeling like I'm only 10% through the first draft - and scared to death to think I am at 60%. There is so much I haven't written yet - and pieces of the story that aren't in there .... and ... and ... well. Then there is the fear that all the little bits don't really work together.
I've now cooked three "real" meals in the last three days. Sunday night I made Chicken Scaloppine (although over yellow/zucchini squash instead of broccoli rabe). Last night I made Spaghetti Carbonara out of my 1962 Italian Cookbook "The Pleasures of Italian Cooking" by Romeo Salta, chef and owner of the famous Southern California restaurant Chianti. This morning I made sausage gravy, biscuits and a sausage/onion/cheese omelet. I'm trying to use (up) ingredients in my house.
Tonight Dr. Whiney is coming over and we're going to do some career brainstorming, look for trends in my "I Love List" ... and drink some red wine. I'm going to make Fusilli with Roasted Eggplant Sauce from my "Pasta Harvest" cookbook for our dinner. I have eggplants from the CSA - and the thought of frying them is a little overwhelming. But I can start roasting them about 3 pm - and then have the sauce simmering when he gets here and we can eat whenever it fits into the schedule.
Sounds like I'm on an Italian kick, doesn't it?
Finally - I am worried about my cotton growing friends in the mid-south and deep south. Please say a little prayer for the end of the rain - and some kind of miraculous recovery. At this point they estimate they've lost about half their crop to boll rot and boll lock.
There's a job fair tomorrow. I loath the idea of attending one - almost as much as I loath American Cheese. My friend and I have pinpointed 3 companies that we're really interested in approaching despite the masses of humanity that will flock to this event. Since I'm going with someone else, I think I can endure. We're also going to wait until afternoon - so hopefully the crush will be less.
Hope there's some sunshine in your day today - and if not - have a drink, "straight, no chaser" on me!