Pep-talk

This morning I awoke to a land of crystal ice. During the night our mountain home was visited by the angles of “winter mix”.

Unconcerned I packed my suitcase then trotted upstairs to start the coffee. As I sat on the couch with my book and cup-of-joe, looking out the French Doors across the deck and the valley, I noticed the icicles hanging off the bird feeders. Soon my hosts joined me and we discussed my departure plans. Strip the bed, breakfast, take a shower, clean the bathroom, pack my kitchen utensils, join them for church, go to lunch, return to the mountain home, cut a Christmas tree – and head back to the triangle.

As we sat around the breakfast table we talked about ice-storms, dirt roads, and car accidents.

While I took my shower, I suddenly realized … it wasn’t just a “little bit” cold … and there weren’t just icicles on the birdfeeders. The trees were also bowed from their frosting of ice jewelry – and the steps off the front porch shimmered with a crystal coating … and the road down off the mountain was steep, rutted, potholed with a sheer drop on one side – and slightly less sheer drop on the other.

Perhaps – perhaps SMART PEOPLE wouldn’t be trying to climb the gravel driveway to the mountain-top to begin the slippery decent to Winkler’s Creek Road on this morning.

As I did my guest cleaning chores, I chewed this idea over in my head. Surely – they’d say, “It looks too dangerous, we’re not doing church this morning,” if that were the case, WOULDN’T THEY??

And SURELY it would warm up enough by mid-afternoon for me to drive out … right?

Bringing the trash upstairs, I looked out the kitchen window at my four-wheel drive perched on top of the mountain. It towered over the house, thirty-feet above the driveway, parked on a “wide-spot” facing downhill and coated in a layer of ice. To leave, I’d have to turn it around … doing a three-point turn – or come down the hill – and do a three-point turn while the nose of the SUV faced eternity. One creeping roll too far forward ... and maybe I'd be MEETING eternity!!!

As my host joined me at the kitchen sink, he announced he’d heard a couple of tree branches “firing-off” as they became too heavy for their load of ice and shattering as they descended to earth. He also mentioned how he’d have to defrost the vehicle door handles before we could depart for church.

“You know … it’s okay with me if we don’t go to church … because the roads aren’t safe,” I told him.

Smiling his fuzzy-wuzzy bear smile at me he assured me that if we couldn’t make it up the driveway, we wouldn’t try the mountain descent.

That’s about the time I started the internal pep-talk.

“You grew up on mountain roads. You had no problems getting in here Wednesday night in the dark,” I told myself.

“You drive a four-wheel drive vehicle. You don’t even have to lock in the hubs manually. What’s your problem?” I asked my scaredy-cat self.

“There are ruts, and edges, and ledges, and this isn’t just snow and mud and water! This is ice and ice doesn’t respect four-wheel drive,” the pragmatist answered.

“What’cha gonna do … Scaredy-Mit? Ask them to drive your car out to the paved road FOR YOU?”

Clearly THAT was NOT an option. Not because they wouldn’t do it … but because I’d have to let them know my fear was getting the best of my abilities; and I HATE admitting my fears to others. The fears that I can’t laugh about, fears that immobilize me, fears that are unrealistic, fears that will reveal the truth about me – that I am not capable and able to take care of myself. Then I thought of Peggy and her “Boldness Blog”.

I finally told Scaredy-Mit that she didn’t have to make an uninformed decision right then and there. We’d be driving out for church and I could check the road conditions and skill requirements while someone else was risking their car. We’d be returning after lunch and by then, it should have warmed up a few degrees, so the road should be in better shape.

Getting out to church on the dirt road was amazingly smooth going. When we reached the paved road, there were numerous sections of black ice, but slow and steady driving rendered those spots no challenge.

After lunch, returning to the house, the black ice was gone, though the tree limbs were still encased in ice. Being sly … I asked the host if he didn’t want to bring my car down the drive so it could be loaded, instead of hauling everything to their car – then driving up to the top of the mountain – and then loading my car. My real goal was to get him to turn around my car and navigate the overhangs FOR ME, without having to directly ask.

All went smoothly. My vehicle was brought down to the house and loaded. Jumping into the driver’s seat, I climbed out the gravel drive in first gear with no difficulties. High four-wheel drive wasn’t even necessary.

But still – I remember the pep-talk I had to give myself. How I had to remind myself of how I’ve forded creeks, driven in snow, and been down roads marked “four-wheel drive only – winch advised” in a sedan. Intellectually I knew how to drive the road. Historically I have ridden over worse. So why oh why did I need the pep-talk?

Perhaps – the image of sliding into a drainage ditch – or seeing a paid-for car sliding down the mountain – were the real fear factors. But somehow I think Scardey-Mit just has a damn big mouth.

Thank god she has an even bigger fear of admitting these things out loud – and so I continue to look like I can conquer anything … except math … and possums … and things that go “bump” or “scritch-scritch-scritch” in the middle of the night.

Ps: Did you also notice I met the challenge and wrote EVERY DAY for 30 days?? Go me!

Caught Up

Today has been the best day. I slept ‘till eight-thirty … at nine-thirty I made individual green onion and cheddar cheese omelets … plus link sausage and toasted English muffins. They weren’t really even omelets. They weren’t folded in half – or in thirds – (because I got impatient and stage fright on the first one) – really they were just scrammy eggs with green onions and cheese. Yet – my hosts thought they were “great” … “amazing” … and “outstanding” as if I’d done something complicated.

After breakfast we hurried to get the kitchen clean up (and not once did I wish I could crawl back into bed and sleep) so we could head into town. Thankfully only the men in the house were going to watch the South Carolina Bulldogs meet the Appalachian Mountaineers in thirty-two degree weather … while we headed to Mast General Store. Shopping is not my thing … but Mast is pretty special – and spending an hour or two in there didn’t strain my temper.

We left the store and took a short drive up to Sugar Mountain. The weather became slushy so we came on home – without any further detours.

When we got home (I did not take a nap) but I did start on our dinner, corn and potato chowder. The recipe is out of my “Great Greens” by Georgeanne Brennan cookbook. I bought this book three or so years ago – just because it was so pretty. Now as I’m trying to cook my way through the CSA box it’s become my favorite “go to” source for recipes with greens in inspired combinations.

This soup is billed as the perfect “summer” soup – highlighting the bounty of the garden. I think it’s a great winter soup too. True, corn is a summer veggie – but I think with a tweak here and there – switching the corn out for hominy and adding some shredded chicken and cumin spice would turn it into an awesome Caldo de Pollo. However, the roasted red-pepper chili cream and avocado garnish really made this soup shine and no tweaking is necessary to get rave reviews.

After dinner we’ve all plopped down ‘round the fireplace and TV. We’ve watched Wake Forrest and Vanderbilt, Duke and UNC, University of Southern Cal and Notre Dame in between scenes from “How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days” and “The Empire Strikes Back”.

Now however … the best of the day … Bing, Danny, Rosemary and Vera Ellen are going to end our evening with a White Christmas and I’m not even yawning!

Seems as if this trip really HAS been the perfect tonic.

What I Did on the Day after Thanksgiving

Subtitled: Not Much

This morning I put the French Toast Casserole in the oven and cooked some link sausage.

After breakfast I took a short nap.

Then I read.

Mid-morning we set out Christmas decorations.

Then we ran some errands in town … to the post office, a drug store, and the grocery store.

When we came home I took a nap.

Then I read.

We set the table and company joined us for dinner.

After dinner we sat around in the living room. They talked, I yawned.

They finally went home – and we cleaned the kitchen.

Now I’m going to bed.

(Because today was such a strenuous day, you understand)

And everyone said

Yum

(It might be possible they didn’t understand why I needed to start cooking at three this afternoon.)

(It might be possible they didn’t understand this was an “easy” dinner)

(It is possible I wasn’t expecting to cut the chicken into pieces MYSELF, just because I wanted “French Cut” Chicken – and that added an extra hour to my cooking time)

(My tart crust looked great – then I took it out of the pan to make it look better. THANK GOD it tasted amazing.)

But they’re still talking to me. (Admittedly it was very quite during dinner. Just scrape, scrape, scrape of their forks and knives on the plates)

And the Marmalade French Toast Casserole is in the fridge – ready for tomorrow’s breakfast.

So I’ll end this with – I am thankful; that those that aren’t cooks – allow me to do what makes me happiest.

I hope your day was filled with things that made your eyes smile when you put them in your mouth!

Winging It

Last night - after packing the kitchen supplies I went to bed without packing the "Leslie" supplies. I pack all the time - so it's a pretty simple process. Except when you decide you can't pack until you fold the laundry. *sigh*

I got my stuff in one small suitcase except 1 pair of shoes and 1 pair of hiking boots. Not that I plan on hiking. But in case it snows - or - a cute man shows up and I want him to THINK I could hike, if I weren't so busy cooking. Or reading. Or writing. Or drinking. Or a combo of any of the above.

As I drove away from home I was congratulating myself for remembering my scarf. And my (office's) GPS. And canceling my newspaper, and the mail ... when I realized ... darn. Didn't turn down the heater. Oh well. It's on a timer anyway - and at night it doesn't come on unless the house gets below 52 degrees. It only warms up to 68 in the mornings and from 6pm - 10pm. So ... it's not like I'll be wasting LOTS of energy.

I had 5 things to pick up at the grocery store on my lunch hour: bread for french toast; bread for nibbling; English Muffins; Orange Marmalade; and Mexican Corn. Done with my shopping. The whole time I was thinking how great it was that I wasn't going to have to do the REAL shopping. Total score on my part.

Just now - the REAL grocery shoppers called. She's sounding slightly paniced. But really - it's not like there's anything UNIQUE on the list. No eye-of-neut, pink peppercorns, or Huitlacoche or anything. (Like I've asked Talla Palla to search for) in the past! Hee-hee!

However these two ingredients do seem to be in short (non-existant) supply.

No fresh oragano at the store!! Could we use dried. (Yes)

Someone bought all the Butternut Squash - what would we do??? (Spaghetti squash will subsitute just fine)

Seems like everything is going according to plan ... except I'm still here at work. I was hoping the benevolent GM would let me go early ... but ... looks like that's not going to happen. I must say - the phones have been fairly busy. A lot of people panicing that we won't be here on Friday and Saturday.

I wonder if I'll have phone reception up there. I'm hoping not. Of course - it's not like I ANSWER my phone anyway!

Wanna see where I'm going to be? Click and view !

Happy Cooksgiving

The cotton harvest rules my life. Right now, it is finished in some parts of the country (TN, AR, AL, LA and MO)– and in others (GA, NC, CA, AZ, TX) it’s just gearing up. Because of weather, crop size, and conditions we never know from year to year if we’ll have the Friday and Saturday of Thanksgiving off or be working. Depending on the year, some customers serve their employees a Thanksgiving meal between shifts while others might knock off the night shift.

On Monday it was decided on we’d be closed both days this year. Because I never know 'till the last minute what my schedule will be like, I rarely make plans ahead of time - and almost never for out of town. This year I’ve been invited to join friends at their mountain house in the town of Boone North Carolina. It’s about 23 miles east of the Tennessee state line and 54 miles south of Virginia. I’ll make the 3 hour drive when I get off work tomorrow night.

I am so happy to be included in their holiday, I asked if I could do the cooking while I was there to show my gratitude at their kindness. Since they had “Family Thanksgiving” on Sunday – and I had “Office Thanksgiving” today – I decided to by-pass the traditional holiday foods – and instead created a “Localvore Fall Menu”

Here’s the menu – with a few links.

Thurs Breakfast:

Winter Frittata Recipe

Toast

Fruit (apples, cranberries, oranges)

Thurs Lunch:

Nibbly stuff - cheese ball, cured meats, nuts, cheese, sliced apples

Thurs Dinner: (Early)

Chicken in Riesling (without new potatoes)

Butternut squash with Arugula

Carrots in Chermoula

Homemade bread

Lemon Curd Tart w/Cranberries

Friday Breakfast:

Orange Marmalade French Toast Casserole

Link Sausage

Friday Lunch:

Nibbly stuff - cheese ball, cured meats, nuts, cheese, sliced apples

Friday Dinner:

Honey Cured Pork Loin with Peppery Juniper & Fennel Seed Rub

Cabbage Braised with smokey ham

Orange Couscous Timbales

Risotto Rice Pudding

Saturday Breakfast: Omelets

Bacon English

Muffins

Saturday Dinner: (when you return frozen from the Appalachian State game)

Corn and Spinach Chowder

Bread

Fruit Salad

I hope you all have a wonderful holiday. I’ll be checking in from time to time, as they have wireless access in the home!

Emotional Economics

You might find the following piece of reading (which is lifted from an eMail to a friend) a decided shift from what I normally write. However, I’ll tell you – that as I go about my daily life – this is very much what you’d hear if you caught, “Mit’s Mutterings” to her friends, customers, and family. In some ways, it might not be considered a “political” screed. Those I leave to my friend Ozy and the Proof . I’m not calling out any party, government agency, or public servant. YET what follows is certainly a political conversation. It’s about the politics surrounding our food, health, welfare, and survival.

***

eMail conversation with the friend:

"I just heard a piece on NPR ... about a farmer in Colorado who opened up his farm to gleaning this weekend. People showed up before dawn on Saturday - and he estimates there were around 40,000 of them.

It made me cry. Why?

Because I believe we're just at the beginning of these bad times - and that so many people showed up to get some food - it boggles my mind. It made me cry that he was so generous - and overwhelmed - and won't be able to do something like this again because the demand was too great.

I feel like an idiot because I cry over stupid things like this. What’s happening to people right now – and what’s to come. My feelings are the exact opposite of the typical reaction, "Oh well, that's not my problem." I am so grateful that I have a job - and scared at the same time - that I might end up like “these people”.

It’s true, I’m not EXACLTY LIKE THEM … I have savings. The only debt I carry is my mortgage. YET – I’m only one crisis away from joining them. The loss of my job – a catastrophic event at my house (tangent: I got a letter last week that my homeowners insurance had been cancelled. 2 claims in two years, were two, too many. It’s been reinstated at a higher deductible. (Thank You God) But still – if another tree rips wiring off my house – or puts a hole in my roof, I’ll have to cover the first $1,500. That’s a big chunk out of anyone’s savings account (I’m assuming). If another "event" happens I’ll be wondering how I’ll keep MY house, pay for gas to drive to work (assuming I still have a job), feed myself, and take care of my health. Not to mention finance my retirement future."

My friends response to the NPR article was this, “I think what happened there will be more and more common. The food pantries are already short and needing aid, but there's less aid available. It's funny that their time of highest demand means they get the least supply. Bread lines, though far off, are possible sometime down the line.”

Although I am slightly well informed outside of my industry, for the most part I only hear what the political pundits say every hour-on-the-hour on NPR in the morning ... or on Market Place or Market Place Money on Sunday mornings. Or when someone tells me something - or links me to something.

But I told him, “I think you're right - it's going to become more frequent (gleanings) .... but you know - that means farmers have to get financing. And have to be able to afford "inputs" ... seed, water (out west), fertilizer, pest-control. Even organic farmers have to find a way to finance pest control (beneficial - be they insects or host plants), fertilizer - organic or manufactured, and labor to bring in the crop.

I think a lot of people (who don't garden) have this romantic idea that it would be easy and cheep to start growing stuff if they had too. But that's not true. Beyond the seeds and mulch, the "infrastructure" (ie: tomato cages; raised planting beds; sprinklers, hoses) costs something ... not to mention the learning curve - and failure expense.

It also means that farmers who grow for mechanized consumption (ie: corn for it's parts; tomatoes/peaches/pears for canning) will have to rethink what and how they produce crops. I'm not sure how quickly/easily they can switch - and IT COST MONEY to change. Not to mention - people in inhospitable regions will have to change their eating habits. And we'll all become more seasonal in our cooking.

It's struck me for years how finding an orange was a big deal (for those not living in Ca/Fl/Az) in the 1900's, teens, twenties, and thirties. That's because that's when citrus in the US was harvested. We're use to oranges year round - but they are not a year round crop. Same with tomatoes, lettuce, etc, etc. etc. I think we'll end up moving back to this cycle of eating and cooking.

For the most part, my comments are focused on produce and vegetables. Because those are the most likely for gleaning. But as a country - the US is very fond of it's protein. You cannot glean beef, pork, lamb, chicken, shrimp or fish.

Which means ... what? People outside of city limits will start raising cows/pigs/sheep outside of the city limits?? Will cities REALLY allow people to raise chicken/rabbits in their backyard? Certainly current zoning here in North Carolina (and many other states) would not support this trend.

Raising an animal (which also takes money/time/skill) is not the end of the "I'll supply my own meat" assumption. They (the animals) must also be processed. There aren't a whole lot of small time butchers/meat processors left - and how many of them pass USDA inspections? (If they're selling to the public - then they are ... but I'll submit these businesses are easier to find in rural settings than downtown Chicago/New York/San Francisco/Los Angeles, etc.)

I haven't even touched on "aqua-culture". Have you read all the warnings about eating fish, shellfish and crustaceans out of our streams and rivers? Not to mention how many times you go fishing ... but come home empty handed?

So - all that rant to say - I don't know how much more of this we'll see in the future - 'cause that's not how agriculture works today." (end of my eMail rant)

Here’s his response:

“I think you'll see more communes... and more community organizations, like co-ops. Grow what they need, sell the excess. They'll do the same for energy. A city, or county, or whatever, will build its own windmills, or solar fields to provide their energy. If they don't have enough resources, they'll produce something else and buy it.

You see, a problem with the job market is the increased specialization. Every job is now specialized. You've been lucky to take your experience and transfer it from one career to another, but where else can that take you? Could you get into healthcare at the same level (the digitalization of records)? You should consider it, if you can.

Anyway, it used to be one job qualified you for many. A business major could be in accounting, marketing, management, human resources, and a host of other jobs. A machinist could do a lot of things. Now? A programmer isn't just a programmer... What languages does he program in? What OS does he program for? IT is a catch-all, but there are a lot of jobs inside that umbrella.

I think communities will be more and more specialized. The South will probably be the new rust belt, the west will be IT, the southwest will give us energy, financial stuff will be the east coast.. and so on and so forth, with communities inside the regions providing goods and services for that region, and excess gets sold off to other regions

We're sort of like that, anyway, only it will become a more formal arrangement. You not only move into a community, you move to a co-op, get it?”

What do you think?

On the Seventh Day

On the seventh day he rested from all his work, and so did Mit. (Genesis 2.2 revised and unusual)

I awoke and thought after church I’d finish a few things around the house. Make the cornbread for the stuffing I’ll take to work on Tuesday for our Thanksgiving lunch. Get the laundry off the guest bed. Do some filing. Attend a meeting – serve dinner for the youth at church again.

Instead – I skipped out on the second service and came home and took a nap. When I woke up – I warmed up some leftovers and read the Sunday paper.

I attended the meeting. Prepped the chili dinner at church – and left it to others to serve it.

I came home, picked up a book, warmed up some Chile Verde for my dinner, and now I’m heading back to that warm and cozy bed. I’ll read a little bit – then return to slumber land.

ps: I really, really, really love corn tortillas. I love them freshly handmade and warm. I love them fried 'till they shatter. I love them sweet and pliable to sop up chile. I have no idea why anyone would like a flour tortilla. They are doughy and ball up in your mouth. They don't have a whole lot of flavor ... unless they're toasted. Still - they do not begin to compare to the sweet and wholesome goodness of stone ground corn masa patted into a golden disk of sweetness.

Sumptuous Saturday

It seems I write an inordinate number of posts about people coming to my house for dinner and how much I enjoy the whole evening.

I don’t want this to be another one of those – although – that’s what took place.

Instead, I thought I’d let you in behind the scenes.

7:42 am – eMail sent to friend: “Just woke up. Going to get going. House cleaning, grocery shopping and preparing for dinner guests is on the schedule for the day.

9:20 am – It’s COOOOOLD outside of this bed. Also decided to sleep in. I think I can get some filing of bills and papers done today besides the cleaning, cooking and shopping. Woo-hoo. I’m going to be productive!

10:30 – Decided to have breakfast and read the paper before taking shower. Plenty of time to clean and cook. Might even get stack of laundry folded. Going to the store by 11:30 NO MATTER WHAT.

11:14 – I’m on a roll now. Have the stove hood light protector cleaned, dishes put away, have started tearing down the catch plates and coils of the stove top unit. Next up wiping down the cabinets, mopping the floor, laundry and shower. Decided I need to leave here at 2:30 for grocery shopping. As long as I start cooking by 3:30 I’ll be fine.

12:38 – Neighbor called. Wanted to know if I’d picked up the CSA box – and if she could borrow coffee cups for her annual “Dessert Night” which is tonight. Told her I’d jump in shower and go pick up CSA – I’d leave cups on porch if I wasn’t around. She says she’s already had her show and is getting ready to head out – so she’ll pick up the box. :\

1:00 – Mop kitchen floor, start load of laundry. Feel awkward when neighbor arrives and I’m still in pajamas – but LOOK HOW CLEAN MY FLOOR IS!!!

1:22 – How freakin’ involved can I get in getting this darn kitchen clean?? One hour and must be on my way to store. Wipe mopped floor dry and begin “quick cleaning” of baseboards and cabinetry. Place cutlery and dishes on table for later.

2:10 – OMG! Laundry running and I REALLY need to take a shower and get to store. Dust mop living room. Suddenly remember I wash ALL laundry in COLD water – and so I have no need to wait until laundry is completed before taking shower.

2:40 – Showered and dressed for the day – leave for grocery store.

3:05 – What is up with people in the store on Saturday afternoons?? COME ON!!! MOVE IT PEOPLE. I’m a busy girl and DON’T HAVE ALL DAY!!

3:22 – How long does it take to cut a chicken into quarters???

3:26 – What the hell??? How long does it take to grab a bag of coffee and bottle of wine. Get OUT OF MY WAY.

3:45 – Home! Now just get these groceries put away, prep and wash CSA veggies, finish laundry, clean bathroom, set table, prep hor d’oeuvres, make leek bread pudding, start vinegar chicken, make salad … and welcome company.

4:13 – How long does it take to clean and separate CSA box of produce???

4:27 – Start Leek Bread pudding. (also praying to God they won’t be on time)

4:36 - Stop and send friend following eMail. "Okay - stress has set in. Please confirm that I am wonderful. A great hostess and cook - and these people love me and aren't going to leave my house because I have laundry on my bed. And dinner isn't 100% done. Yet."

4:40 – Time to cut or make bait. Get table set, get appetizer ready – chicken can be made while company mingles and has cocktails.

4:48 - Return eMail: "How many people are you inviting into your bedroom???

Have you ever heard of a new fad?

It's called 'closing doors'.

It's neat.

They're not going to leave. Fears not confirmed.

5:01 - Refrain from sending eMail back.

5:05 – Table done, appetizers done (honestly, almonds in a dish – sliced apple, cheese wedge, and crackers on a plate.)

5:10 – Quick “Thank You God” as company isn’t here yet. Turn on lamps, light candles, select music, start on chicken.

5:20 – Guests arrive. Make cocktails – and explain they’ll have to watch me make main dish and salad.

5:30 – Guest volunteers to “slice and dice” while I cook chicken.

6:22 – Sit down to salad with CSA greens and wilted pine nut and balsamic vinegar dressing, vinegar chicken, leek and cheese bread pudding, roasted sweet potatoes.

7:20 – Still talking

7:45 – Clear table and serve dessert; Melody of triple chocolate cheese cake, praline cheese cake, pumpkin cheese cake supplied by the guest.

8:20 – Talk, talk, talk

8:30 – Try to dissuade guests from helping with dinner dishes; Fail miserably.

8:50 – Bid guests goodnight and wish them safe travels.

9:00 – Catch up on eMails and organize computer files.

9:20 – Start post

9:45 – Why do I get distracted so easily??

10:20 – Wrap up post

10:30 – Begin posting process

10:31 – Decide to include recipes.

Leek and Gruyere Bread Pudding

• 3 medium leeks
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 2 cups whole milk
• 6 eggs, slightly beaten
• 1 (1 pound) loaf French Bread, cut into 1 ½ –inch cubes
• 4 cups grated Gruyere cheese
• 1 cup grated parmesan cheese
• 2 ½ tablespoons minced fresh thyme
• 2 ½ tablespoons minced fresh parsley
• 1 teaspoon salt & ½ teaspoon black pepper

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Lightly butter 13x9x2 inch baking dish.

Cut off and discard dark green tops of the leeks. Cut off and discard roots. Split light green and white section in half lengthwise. Slice into ¼ segments. Rinse leeks in a large bowl of water, allowing the sand and dirt to settle to the bottom. Carefully lift the leek out of the water and drain in colander.

Heat butter in a large sauté pan over medium heat. Add leeks and sweat them until tender but not browned. Set aside to cool.

Combine the milk and eggs, then add bread cubes and allow to soak in milk-egg mixture. Add Gruyere, parmesan, thyme, parsley to egg-bread combo. Mix well. Stir salt and pepper into cooled leeks. Incorporate to bread/egg/cheese mixture. Transfer to the buttered baking dish – pressing down lightly to even out the top.

Cover baking dish with aluminum foil and bake for 30 minutes. Remove foil and return to oven. Bake until slightly browned, about 10 minutes. Allow pudding to cool a little before serving.

Chicken with Vinegar (Gourmet 1974)

• 1 (3 1/2- to 4-lb) chicken, cut into 8 serving pieces
• 2 teaspoons salt
• 1 teaspoon black pepper
• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 4 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
• 1/3 cup finely chopped shallots (about 2 medium)
• 1 medium carrot, finely chopped
• 2 fresh thyme sprigs
• 2 Turkish bay leaves or 1 California
• 1 tablespoon tomato paste
• 1 cup dry red wine
• 1/2 cup red-wine vinegar
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 1 cup reduced-sodium chicken broth (8 fl oz)

Garnish: fresh thyme sprigs

Cook chicken:

Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 350°F.

Pat chicken dry and sprinkle with 1 teaspoon salt and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Heat oil and 1 tablespoon butter in a 10- to 12-inch heavy skillet over moderately high heat until foam subsides, then brown chicken in 2 batches, turning over once, 8 to 10 minutes per batch. Transfer chicken as browned to a small (13- by 9-inch) flameproof roasting pan, arranging it in 1 layer. Once all chicken is browned, roast, uncovered, in oven 15 minutes.

Make sauce while chicken roasts:

Discard all but 2 tablespoons fat from skillet, then add garlic, shallots, carrot, thyme sprigs (2), and bay leaves and cook over moderately high heat, stirring and scraping up brown bits, until vegetables are browned, 3 to 6 minutes. Add tomato paste and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Add wine, vinegar, sugar, and remaining teaspoon salt and 1/2 teaspoon pepper and boil, stirring occasionally, until reduced by half, 5 to 10 minutes.

Finish sauce and chicken:

Add chicken broth to sauce along with any juices from roasting pan and bring to a boil. Pour through a fine-mesh sieve onto chicken in roasting pan, pressing on and then discarding solids. Continue to roast chicken, uncovered, until just cooked through, about 15 minutes more.

Transfer chicken with tongs to an ovenproof serving dish and keep warm, uncovered, in turned-off oven.

Meanwhile, boil sauce in roasting pan over high heat, stirring occasionally, until reduced to a scant cup, then remove sauce from heat and swirl in remaining 2 tablespoons butter. Season with salt and pepper and pour sauce over chicken.

Our evening was definitely Bon Appetite – I hope yours was too!

Saying No

Tonight at 7:00 pm I wrote this to a friend ... as I rushed to hear Lenny Leblanc perform at my church.

"I just finished my piece of pumpkin cheese cake.

Now I'm going to go out and be sociable. My guess is I'll be home around 9pm - I think I'm going to duck out on the second engagement.

I'll let you know when I return."

Now here at 11:42 ... I'm rushing to post this. Why? Why am I in a rush? It's because I am incapable of saying, "no". I tried. Really I did. I said to the guys, "No - I'm not going to go see Spot after all. It's cold and I'm tired. I think I'll go home and curl up in my bed with flannel pj's and a book."

Hahahaha

Yep. Mit sandwich again tonight. Peter on the right, Paul on the left ... I was the spicy mustard in the middle.

Oh ... and guess who else was listening and dancing to Spot? None other than our honorable Mayor.

HOW DO I GET MY SELF IN THESE GROUPS?

Absence

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder." -- Eleanor Roosevelt

Tonight I had dinner for the group again.Absence seemed to be a theme that ran through the evening. First, I was under the impression that Susan wouldn’t be joining us. As I prepared the table I was sad she wouldn’t be here and knew we’d miss her laugh, shining eyes and how she leans forward – eager to hear the last word of each story - as we gathered around the oak table.

But there she was coming up the front walk, right behind Crystal, dessert and dessert wine in hand.

We’d been standing around my kitchen for a few moments, waiting for Grace and our appetizer to show up. As we waited we laughed at how Grace didn’t realize she was bringing the appetizer last time and I'd set out some almonds and olives to get us through. But she’d promised THIS TIME she’d have something “extra yummy for us” … yet here it was … a quarter past – and no Grace and no appetizer.

I finally called. She’d totally FORGOTTEN it was tonight. “Come on down. We have more than enough without an appetizer – but we don’t have enough without you,” I told her pulling out the almonds.

As we sat around the table, I realized North Carolina has become home. The last year and a half that we've been too scattered get together have allowed the absence between visits become noticeable. I’ve know it takes a while to make a new town/city/state your own. I also knew that when it came to my friends from church I’d made that connection. But I wasn’t sure I’d made it with other people.

So this group, the women who showed up around my dinner table tonight are all connected by geography; neighborhood geography. Grace is my neighbor. Beth use to live across the street, and Crystal lived around the corner. Susan, the fourth member of our party, grew up in the same hometown as Grace.

We know each other well. Where we stands in regard to our politics, food, wine, and reading preferences; but we don’t really know everything about each other. When we come together … we become stronger, yet more diverse as we tell our stories.

Tonight we learned more about Grace and the years she crewed on sailing ships. It was fun to tease her, “So – were you the cook’s mate – or the cook-mate?” All laughing and teasing aside – the idea that my neighbor sailed from the US, to Spain, to England, to Australia and back to Spain as the assistant to the chef on a SAILING ship is pretty eye opening. Especially since she is always claiming how much she hates to cook and how much she enjoys what I prepare.

That’s another lesson I’ve finally learned with this group. It doesn’t really matter what I put together – it’s the fact we’ve carved time out to be together that matters. This is the first times I’ve felt that I can cook “anything” and it will be ok. Tonight is a perfect even if it was not the typical “Mit Dinner”. I supplied the Philly Cheese Steak Soup and they paired it with bread, salad, and dessert. Because the soup cooked while I was at work I was able to come home, set the table, and enjoy my company without the last minute chores of dicing, stirring, sautéing, and seasoning.

There was this amazing quality of … relaxation throughout the meal. We’d just been together two weeks ago – so the news we shared was a little more recent – and not so urgent. We were current with the big things happening in our lives and now we could focus on the spice. Susan talked about she and her friend wearing tiaras and feather boas to a concert … and getting a flat tire as they drove by the erotica bookstore on their way home. We sobered at the direction the economy is moving, laughed over the difference between “whore” and “horror” when you have a southern accent, and considered where the best tasting vegetables came from in our childhoods.

The time spent ‘round the table was fortifying, rejuvenating, and inspiring. We’ve made a date for the next dinner and set the food and drink assignments. I think we’ll leave the stories to serendipity.

Eleanor might be right – absence makes the heart grow fonder, but frequency makes the bonds stronger.

Topaz

I was expecting company from Pennsylvania to arrive this week … but circumstances prevented the visit. I’m trying to not be blue. I’ve crammed the coming days with activity.

I’m having “the girls” for dinner tomorrow night … and I’m NOT READY.

Well – that’s not quite true.

I’ve bought the food.

I just need to fold the laundry – clean my kitchen AGAIN – cook AGAIN tonight, and dust mop the living room.

Friday I’m going to dinner with friends, then going to listen to SPOT play.

Saturday I’m having another couple over for dinner.

Sunday I’m going to serve dinner for the MYF High School students.

It’s NOT like I don’t have stuff to keep me busy. I won’t just be sitting around.

So I’m not going to be blue.

I think I’ll be cerulean instead.

It's Not Funny (yet)

It's well documented that I cannot read nor write numbers in order. Usually I can joke about this ... but there are a few times when I can't.

One aspect of my job is occasionally having to enter a customer's "ID Number" into the system when they call. Since they don't know it's me that answered the phone, they rattle their five and six digit number at lightening speed. They don't even break them up in couplets or trios. So for me, it's just pretty much gibberish after the second number.

Then, there's repeating the phone number back to customers, to make sure the number listed in the database is correct. This is hard because when there's a discrepancy, I can't tell if I've read the number wrong, or said the number wrong, or it's really WRONG. Yet, usually our customers are pretty kind and patient while I try to sort it out. Especially since by this point most of them realize it's me - and know I can't "do" numbers.

Because of these difficulties, there are some concessions made to my job duties. I don't have to work with accounts payable or receivable, nor am I expected to check the billing. I am not even allowed to tell the copier people how many copies have been made each quarter on our machines. (which is fine with me)

There are some job duties that cannot be avoided or delegated. Like CALLING the customers. It's not so much the CALLING, it's the DIALING the number that presents the problem. I usually dial most numbers two or three times, because I catch that I've entered a number wrong, before it rings. Sometimes I don't. But wrong numbers are ok because when the phone is answered and they say a different business name, I know I miss dialed.

What's NOT so okay is when the number is so mangled I get the recording, "This number cannot be connected as dialed". When I get that message I'm not sure if it's because I dialed wrong or there's a problem with the number. After I dial and get the message for the second or third time, I go to a different part of the database to find the right number. But sometimes all the "alternative numbers" are wrong too.

About a month ago I was having difficulty reaching a number. Every time I dialed it, I got the "This number cannot be connected as dialed" message. When I say "every time" I mean I tried AT LEAST SEVEN OR EIGHT TIMES. I was highly irritated, because THIS TIME I was sure SOMEONE had put the number in wrong ... and the other people who'd tried to call previously, had only noted the call was "busy". Which couldn't be true .. it was just they were too l-a-z-y to look up the number and correct it.

It's possible I was on a tare that day anyway, about the injustices of the world, and how dachshunds were too long and Great Danes are too tall and the sky was the wrong color, etc. I felt it was vital the injustices of the world be corrected ... and we might as well start with my slothful coworkers.

So when the GM came to my desk I had him look at the call. All dramatic like I said, "Look what happens when I dial this number!!" and I dialed it on the speaker phone so he could HEAR THE MESSAGE and know what slacker coworkers he employed.

The phone rang once.

The phone range a second time.

When it went to ring the third time, I fully expected to hear the horrid sound followed by, "This number cannot be connected as dialed". I turned toward my boss ... just WAITING FOR THE LOOK ON HIS FACE ...

When the phone was answered, "XYZ Cotton".

I thought the GM was going to pass out from trying to keep a straight face as he left my desk. Within minutes I heard him back in Hot Sauce's office, and they were laughing their butts off.

That night on the way home Hot Sauce tried to make a joke about it. I gave him the death look and silence. I thought he got the message. Then about a week ago, we were talking about how many calls each employee handles, and how many can be answered in a set period of time. "Well, I guess for you we need to knock that off by about two or three calls an hour, for dialing difficulties and all," he said and laughed.

I didn't laugh.

Today there was another call that had "busy" noted next to it 3 different times. Each time I called I got "the message". When I looked up the customer in the other database, the customer name didn't match but the phone number was the same in two places. I went to a third place where data is stored. Same phone number ... BUT different area code. I dialed ... still THE MESSSAGE. *sigh* Finally I called another number for a company with a similar name ... it looked like they were a multi-location company. The woman who answered, did not use the company name I was expecting. I explained who I was, and who I was looking for ... and she very graciously explained the company I was trying to track down was no longer part of this business group AND the company name had changed. Then she gave me the phone number. It was different than all the others.

I went back to the GM's office to try and get it all squared away. As soon as I told him it was a problem with the phone number he just stared at me. "No! Really ... it's wrong! X person entered it wrong and there are four other numbers in the database and NONE OF THEM MATCH ... and none of the names match either," I said in exasperation.

"Watch," he said. "I bet I can dial number and make it work," he said laughing and picking up his phone. I turned and walked out of his office without saying a word.

I know I should have laughed. I know I should have seen the comedic circumstances. ME! The dyslexic one being upset because someone else entered a number wrong. AS IF there's any chance I'd dial the number right the first time, no matter WHAT group of numbers were placed in front of me.

But I couldn't get there. I couldn't laugh with him or at myself.

I just feel angry and stupid.

And that was my day.

Hudson Bay or Warm Anyway

Folded in the hall closet of my childhood was an ugly, scratchy blanket. Did I mention it was scratchy? And it smelled funky. I don’t remember that blanket ever leaving the closet. It certainly was never on my bed or draped on the back of one of our couches to snuggle into on cold winter nights.

One year for Christmas … somewhere between 1977 and 1978 – my brother obtained his first “adult job” with General Motors in Fremont, California. That first Christmas he gifted us all with waterbeds. (Who still has a waterbed these days??)

I L-O-V-E-D my waterbed. It was ALWAYS warm. It was perfect for climbing into during the winter. You never, ever, had to worry about warming up the bed with your own body heat – or how long it would take your cold feet to thaw out. My waterbed went with me to Arizona where I attended (and graduated) college and then it followed me in my post college life. I remained a snug and warm waterbed sleeper until 1998.

When I moved back to California, the waterbed had been abandoned for about six months and I’d been sleeping on a box spring set. When I changed beds I hadn’t even given winter a single consideration. Wow … did you know the San Joaquin Valley gets … COLD?? Maybe not “Four feet of snow on the ground” cold, but STILL! So I asked for an electric blanket because my polyfill-comforter and thermal blanket weren’t doing the job. Then I asked for a down comforter.

I thought I was ok as I settled into my new environment. I re-learned why people wear slippers (I had hardwood floors throughout the house and tiled bathroom floors). I started wearing a bathrobe again – because I refuse to set my heater above sixty-eight degrees when I’m home – and at night I turned it down to forty-five degrees. I coped with the cold.

Then I came out here. Suddenly I was living in a place that had ICE STORMS! And SNOW! Did you know that the snow in Tahoe has NO RELATIONSHIP to the snow on the East Coast? Seriously. Snow out west is “dry” … and “crisp” … and you can navigate it, once it stops falling.

Here – we don’t really have snow. We have an ice-maker that needs defrosting. Oh sure … there is a powder, white and flaky in form that falls from the sky – but just like old freezers, before there was “auto-defrosting” the snow form, when it touches the ground, it forms a furry layer of … ice. And then the fur becomes sheets. And the sheets become heavy. And things, like trees and tree limbs, go crash. And vehicles that usually are dependable and follow directions go sliding off on their own secret missions of death and destruction. EVEN IF YOU HAVE FOUR WHEEL DRIVE. Also? In case you haven’t paid attention? Ice is cold. (Yes, just call me Ms. Science).

I had my electric blanket when I moved here … but it bothered me. It doesn’t make my bed toasty warm before I crawl in … not to mention that half of it doesn’t seem to work anymore. Add to that the fact I’m just a little bit leery of electricity in my bed (although in a quick search, I could not find one reliable scientific study to back this concern up), and it’s easy to see I needed a new solution.

For some reason – that ugly, scratchy wool blanket from my childhood popped into my head. I sent an email home. In it – I said that along with inheriting the cast iron waffle iron (so totally mine) – I wanted the “Hudson Bay Blanket”.

Talla Paula could not believe I was asking after the blanket that had been unused since … their wedding when it arrived at the Mitter household. Much to my surprise, she’d given it to some friends – for their cabin in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I’m not sure how it happened … but within a month or two, it arrived in North Carolina. It is also unfortunately NOT a real Hudson Bay Blanket. But it does have the iconoclast green/red/yellow/blue bands on a creamy wool background.

Why am I telling you this story?

Last night it got really cold (for here). And I happily dragged the J.C. Penny “Golden Dawn” (aka the FAKE Hudson Bay Blanket) out and onto my bed.

I love this blanket. I had no idea how effective wool can be until it made the move to North Carolina. Within moments of crawling under it (well, there are sheets and another cotton blanket between me and its scratchy self), I am toasty warm. It radiates warmth – so I can stretch out a leg or arm … and not be attacked by frost bite. It’s heavy … and reminds me of being tucked in as a kid. And it stays in place on the bed. No slipping or sliding or puddling up on the other side of the bed.

So tonight as we face a possible light dusting of snow, “Variably cloudy, windy and colder with the chance of snow flurries in the morning”, I’m going to crawl under my blanket and stay toasty warm and recall the hall closet where this blanket resided for years and years until rescued by a western girl moving south.

All hail the glory of the wool blanket.

Southern Conversion

My dinner group is meeting tonight. Last month we met here at my house and I made Beef in Guinness with Puff Pastry. The couple who brought the appetizers made Filipino Lumpia Rolls. Another couple brought a cake made in a CrockPot. It tasted good … but once again, you had to close your eyes ‘cause it looked NOTHING like cake.

That same couple is hosting this month. They are making "Chicken and Slick" ... aren't you envious? Actually - it's some bastardized version of Chicken and Dumplings. Except they flatten out the dumplings. SOME PEOPLE (who are insane) call them noodles. HA! They are wide and flat ... and puffy and slicker-y on the outside from being boiled in the chicken broth. Chicken and Slick is very southern.

I am bringing the vegetables. I'm doing my part and making TURNIP GREENS. I was dubious about how they'd turn out ... but I just now tasted them. NOT BAD. I might have to turn in my "native Californian" card though. I used HOG JOWLS ... and diced turnips ... and red pepper flakes ... and some diced union to make them. And I'm trying to make sure I have enough "pot liquor" left over for everyone to enjoy.

I'm also bringing sweet potato wedges ... these will be "city-girl" or "California-style" ... certainly NOT SOUTHERN. I'm coat them in olive oil with cumin, thyme, sea salt, and crushed red pepper flakes. If I get really ambitious I might made a garlic aioli to dip the wedges in.

Got to rush if I'm going to be on time.

Chili Verde Redeux

I am not a big fan of crock pots. I liken meals prepared in them to looking at modern art.

“What do you THINK it’s supposed to be?” or “What does it TASTE LIKE?” are usually the questions surrounding meals coming from a crock pot, ‘cause good lord, unless it’s soup or stew, they sure don’t LOOK like anything familiar.

Last week I ended up with a mix for 10 Bean Soup so I used the crock pot. And the soup was great (because I added hog jowls in place of ham) … until I put in the seasoning packet. Then it just tasted like salt. While I was doing some research on how to modify the 10 Bean Soup recipe for the crock pot I ran across a recipe for Chili Verde.

It sounded easy – and good – so I bought the ingredients. I thought I might get it started one morning before going to work – but honestly. Chopping and browning and dicing just aren’t my thing early in the morning.

Today before I left the home to pick up my CSA box, I started the chili. When I got home, I couldn’t believe how good the house smelled. I was halfway afraid it might smell of burnt Chili Verde since I hadn’t added any liquid to the Crockpot.

When I began cooking I assumed the recipe had chicken stock/broth in it, but it only called for a ½ cup of beer. I had no beer. I almost dumped in some white wine – but didn’t. I decided there was enough moisture in the pork, onions, and chilis to keep it safe until I returned home to add the beer. I was right. Of course, on a weekday I’ll have to add the beer upfront.

I like this recipe for two reasons; one because it was more “stew like” and thick. And two; I didn’t have to roast anything, unlike this recipe … from two years ago. (Guess it just goes to show that I don’t cook the same things over and over again, because I completely forgot about making this!)

The most time consuming part of today’s recipe was dicing up the pork. I didn’t see any diced pork at the store so I used a small pork sirloin tip roast. At 2.25 lbs and $5.56 it was just right for my purposes, and much cheaper than tenderloin and smaller than a pork butt.

As I was getting ready to write about Chili Verde, thought I’d do some research to see if it is a regional dish. I didn’t run into it very often in Arizona, but when I moved back to the San Joaquin Valley, each hole in the wall place was judged on the strength its green chili. Of course, Hatch, New Mexico is famous for green and red chiles. This summer when I was in Santa Fe, I ate my weight in Chili Verde. I couldn’t find anything to substantiate my theory, but I’m willing to bet Chili Verde is more Sonoran, than Chihuahuan, Coahuilan, or Nuevo Leónian in nature.

Crock Pot Chile Verde

Credit Clark Quinn (1990)

• 1 onion, coarsely chopped

• 1 green bell pepper, coarsely chopped

• 3 to 4 cloves garlic, minced

• olive oil

• 1 small can diced green chiles (or one fresh Poblanos)

• 1 to 3 jalapeno peppers, sliced (optional)

• 7 to 8 fresh tomatillos, husks removed, coarsely chopped

• 1-2 lbs lean pork, trimmed of fat and cut in cubes

• 2 tsp oregano

• 2 tsp dried sage

• 1 tsp dried red chile pepper flakes

• 1 tsp cumin seed

• salt and ground black pepper (optional, to taste)

• 1/2 cup beer (Negro Modelo or Bohiema preferably)

Heat olive oil at a medium heat in a 12-inch cast iron frying pan. Sauté onion, green pepper, and garlic until translucent.

Put mixture in the Crockpot along with canned diced green chiles (or the diced Poblano chili).

Depending on your propensity for spicy food you can add one to three sliced jalapenos too.

Add diced tomatillos.

Reheat cast iron pan to medium high. Place small batches of cubed pork in the left over oil used to sauté the onions and peppers. Brown meat till caramelized, a maximum of 2-3 minutes on each side.

If you put too much meat in the pan at one time, it will steam and not caramelize. Don’t stir the meat until in it browns and naturally releases from the pan. (You won’t need to use much oil if you can master this skill). My meat was lean enough there was very little juice or fat so the fondt built up nicely as I cooked each batch.

Deglaze skillet with the beer after removing last batch of meat. (When I got home, I warmed up the skilled and deglazed it so I didn’t lose the flavor on the fondt. (Fondt = the meat crumbles and brown stuff left by meat when sautéing)

Season mixture in the Crockpot with the oregano, dried red chile pepper flakes, sage, and ground cumin. Mix.

Add 1/2 cup of beer & fondt to Crockpot.

Cook on high for 2 hours, and then turn to low. It will be ready after the two hours – but becomes better the longer you let it cook. 8-10 hours is perfect.

Traditionally, this is served in bowls, with hot corn or flour tortillas, salsa, and cilantro. You can also garnish with sour cream, grated cheese, olives, and pickled carrots and jalapenos. I like crumbling Fresco or Cotija cheese in mine.

To make great burritos use a carnitas technique with the meat.

After cooking meat in the Crockpot, remove to a baking dish. Place in oven under broiler. Broil until meat is slightly crunchy on the outside, but still moist on the inside. This adds a great texture to the meat, and keeps the burritos from being too soggy.

Small Town; Big Town

Today I was talking to a friend and mid-conversation he said, “The police are here, down the hall. Sounds like one of the tenants is up to something, because I heard them talking out there to some girl and they want to try to get a warrant to search his place. They came by to ask me some questions about what I've heard. Odd. They're still knocking on his door. This has been going on for about 20 minutes, now.”

Because I am a kind and caring friend I said, “Ohhh .... neighbors ... wow ... do you think someone has been ... hurt/killed/abducted?” Because I love drama in other people’s lives.

He called his girlfriend and then told me, “It's a tenant dispute. She thinks it’s a domestic thing between this girl who lives here and the guy she dates. The police are here looking for him or something.”

I value my friends, so I passed on this piece of wisdom to him, “If you see guns or hear shots ... lay flat on the floor. Unless of course they live BELOW you ... then it might be wisest to press yourself against a wall.”

I wanted him to know I was qualified to pass on this advice, so I relayed this story to him.

***

On one of my Mom’s first visits to Phoenix, just after we’d said goodnight, there were gunshots outside somewhere nearby. They weren’t in the parking lot – it sounded like maybe they were a block over or something so I wasn't worried. The next thing I knew, her ghostly outline appeared in my bedroom doorway.

"Did you hear that?" she asked.

"What?"

"That noise ... THERE that noise right there!" she said when another couple of popping sounds occurred.

"Oh ... someone's car is backfiring", I told her.

"Mittany Moi!!! You grew up around guns. THAT IS NO CAR BACKFIRING!!!"

"If you know what's making the sound, why are you asking me?"

"Aren't you afraid?"

"No - it happens kind of frequently."

"What do you do?"

"When I hear that sound?" I asked.

"Yes, you don't just lie there in bed do you?"

"Actually I do. I say to myself, 'Huh. 'nother car backfiring.' And then I don't walk around near the windows. Usually I just stay in my bed because I think it would be a difficult trajectory for the bullet to angle up to the second floor and hit me here in this waterbed.” Continuing on I said, “Assuming it's not just a car backfiring, I ESPECIALLY wouldn't stand there like that Mom. You make a perfect target!"

lol

She peered at me through the darkness to see if I was serious .. and then glanced out the window. (Which looked on the end of the building next door. Or in other words … she glanced out to no view).

"How do you think I should get back to the living room?" she asked in a whisper as she crouched her six-foot self down, trying to become smaller.

I laughed so hard I thought I was going to pee in the waterbed.

It was almost as funny as when she wanted to see if it was reported in the police log the next morning in the Arizona. Republic.

"MOM!!! SEVEN MILLION PEOPLE LIVE HERE IN PHOENIX. They only report on the gunshots where people get hit AND DIE ... And even THEN it doesn't always make the paper. They certainly do not report every time a gun goes off!"

When I finished my story, do you know what my friend’s response was??

“JESUS … YOUR MOM IS SIX-FEET TALL??!”

I'm still giggling at his response.

Insert Ethics Into Mouth

This autumn I decided to put my money where my mouth is … and I bought a half share in a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). There are several reasons behind this decision. Some are related to taste, others to ethics, or my profession, and some to ... ego.

Taste:

I never realized how fortunate I was growing up in Northern California in an agricultural community – with a father who worked in the industry. Frequently he brought home lug boxes of melons, tomatoes, corn, pears, and peaches. In the early 70’s when Kiwi’s became the “next big thing”, he had customers growing them and they found their way to our table.

When I moved away from home to Arizona I suddenly realized what I’d left behind. The green grocer in the produce section could only tell me the peaches were “California Peaches” – not if they were Clings or Freestones. Pears were never warm and juicy, Bing cherries were tart and tough, and artichokes were dried out and wizened. That’s when I learned that produce tasted best picked at the height of ripeness – and grown close to home.

Ethics:

I struggle with the fate of the US farming community. Should they grow their goods commercially, for high yields, with customer-pleasing uniformity and budget pleasing consumer-cheapness? Or grow them in agricultural-boutique settings, limited in quantity and radius, beguiled with imperfections, while affordable only to those living at or above middle class?

I'm also finding myself evaluating my food decisions a little longer after reading Michael Pollan’s, “The Omnivore’s Dilemma”. (I highly recommend you read this book)

Profession:

I am employed by agriculture. I hate being a hypocrite. I want to support the (a) solution – not just sit on the sidelines and criticize.

Ego:

I read all these whiny posts about people who say, “OMG … WEEK FIVE OF SWEET POTATOES/GREENS, what can I do with them?” Each time I want to smack them then walk into their kitchen and take over. So –once again, put my money where my mouth is … or my cooking rep on the line.

So far, it’s been a good, if expensive, experience. My ½ share cost $63.00 for six weeks of produce. When you buy in – it’s like a marriage. For better or for worse – so you better choose a good mate. Worse means if there’s a natural disaster – flood, freeze, or petulance, you’ve paid a farmer to receive nothing. Better means a farmer that offers variety. Better means even with variety you might still have five weeks of unending greens, but they will taste better than the one pound you purchased at the local grocery.

Signing up also doesn’t mean you’ll stop making produce purchases at the local grocery store. I’ve yet to end up with a single onion, head of garlic, clutch of mushrooms, shallots, green onions, or bunch of basil. All those weekly produce purchases are still happening. So – ten dollars a week for produce I might not buy to begin with so … NOT the most cost effective way to acquire produce.

I have won out with the “what else can I make with this” dilemma. I’ve added Vitamin Green aka Mizuna to green chili chicken enchiladas and soups. I’ve kicked up my oriental cooking to use the bock choy … and prepared sweet potatoes four different ways without resorting to marshmallows, pecans or bourbon.

Last night I had some Broccolini left over – so I made one of my favorite pastas dishes with Orecchiette. It came from “Pasta Harvest”. I’d be lost without this cookbook.

Orecchiette with Broccoli

Aprox. 2 lbs broccoli (I used up some leftover Broccolini)

5 tbls olive oil

4 lrg cloves garlic, finely minced

8 anchovy fillets, finely minced (or anchovy paste)

1/4 tsp. hot red pepper flakes

Salt

1 lb dried orecchiette ("little ears")

1 cup freshly grated Pecorino Romano cheese

...

Make an ice-water bath in a large bowl.

Bring a large pot of heavily salted water - at least 5 quarts - to boil over high heat.

...

Separate broccoli florets from stems, but keep florets in large clumps. Use tender parts of the stems, cut in sizes about the same as the florets.

...

Add stems to boiling water, cook 2 minutes, then add florets to boiling water and cook until just tender. The florets will cook in 2 to 3 minutes, stems in 3 to 4 minutes. Lift them out with tongs or a skimmer as they are done and place in ice-water bath to stop the cooking. RESERVE COOKING WATER.

...

Boil pasta unilt al dente in the same water you used to cook the broccoli, stirring often to keep the orecchiette from sticking together.

...

Drain broccoli from bath water and chop coarsely.

...

While pasta cooks, Heat 3 tbls olive oil in a 12-inch skillet over moderately low heat. Add garlic and saute 1 minute to release its fragrance. Add anchovies and stir with a wooden spoon to blend with the oil. Add hot red pepper flakes. Add broccoli and stir to coat with oil and seasonings. Season well with salt. Keep warm.

...

Take 1/2 cup of pasta water out of boiling pasta and reserve.

...

In a large warm bowl, add remaining 2 tbls oil and 1/2 cup of the cheese. When pasta is done, drain. Transfer to warm bowl and toss with oil and cheese. Add contents of skillet and remaining 1/2 cup cheese and toss again. Add a little of the reserved cooking water if needed to moisten the pasta and make a sauce.

...

Serve immediately on warm dishes.

Serves 4

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One of the things I like about this recipe is that it's quick and easy. With the exception of the broccoli, everything is/should be in my pantry as staples. Plus - those little ears! It's amazing how they cup the bits of broccoli - nestling a little bit of garlic and sauce in each bite.

It's also easy to warm up the leftovers without ruining the taste. I just add 1/8 to 1/4 cup of chicken stock (from frozen ice-cubes) to a saute pan. Dump in the past - warm, stir, warm - garnish with more cheese and consume.

Disclaimer

It is possible I was raised by a curmudgeon … but we did have pets.

The first pet I remember is Heidi-ho, the cantankerous yet dispassionate dachshund. In all fairness, we met near the end of her life – and she probably had LOTS of reason to bite me, yet she never did. However, some of the neighbor children weren’t so lucky.

Then there was the succession (continuing until this day) of German Shorthair hunting dogs. Duke, Booper (don’t ask), Sheila, Stella, Sally, and the current day Annie (who is a mixed breed … ssshhh, don’t tell her).

Besides the hunting dogs, we also went through the unfortunate procreating guinea pig experience. I’d been begging my parents for a pet. I was involved in 4-H. Somehow that turned into two guinea pigs. I guess we ended up with them because you couldn’t raise sheep, cows, or pigs in town. (Although Lord knows Talla Palla has tried to convince OBMitter that baby pigs should be brought home on MANY a weekend jaunt.)

So – Jack and Jill went down the hill … to the Mitter household … where they begat, Salt and Pepper; And Eeny, Meeny, Miny, and Moe (I was not terribly creative in the naming department). And Peanut … and … seven other kin.

Although Jack and Jill – and Salt and Pepper were cute at first … they lost their charm, when they turned into 14 guinea pigs and it was winter. Feeding and watering a crowd outside in nearly freezing temperatures isn't very romantic or rewarding. (unless you count the unfrozen bodies)

And before you get all excited, I must explain to you OBMitter's philosophy. “Livestock” ie: animals with four legs, belong OUTSIDE. So says the man who contributed to my DNA and grew up on a ranch.

As a young child I did not understand the livestock rule … but decided that frostbitten hands were a bit much for rodents who were not very expressive.

SO … the guinea pigs were … sold. Some of them went to nice families … and some to the local college. (where I am sure they became experiments, but Talla Palla didn’t think about that until AFTER she sold them.)

The lucre purchased another dachshund – “Sundae”. (Because we bought her on a Sunday and she had a dark stripe down her back … like hot fudge on a Sundae.) She totally won over my Dad … or he was tired of listening to me wheel endlessly on her behalf, so eventually she came to live in the house. Her bed was in the kitchen. She was not allowed in near the dining room table at meals.

She was great – unitl Talla Palla went to work. Suddenly she wasn’t so great as an outside dog. She could escape from the six foot tall dog-pen where the hunting dogs stayed … and loved to eat the neighbor cat’s food when she made her great escapes.

From that time till now … I have been petless. My brother, Too Tall, started buying dogs as soon as he left home. Me? Never once have I been compelled to purchase a pet. And it has been good.

I have never had to worry about food for me; or food for a pet. I’ve never worried if my next living space would accommodate/welcome a pet. Nor had to face the death of a pet. Not to mention I have not had anything of mine chewed up, peed on, or shedded on by a pet. I sleep quite well through the night – and nothing wakes me up in the morning wanting attention or food. I travel frequently and never worry about who will feed/water/walk my pet.

I’ve always thought SOMEDAY … when I retire … or when I didn’t travel so much for work … I might consider a Bassett Hound. Something slow moving, unmotivated, lethargic with lots of character.

Then I acquired Rodanthe.

I wasn’t looking for a pet. I still travel a lot. I still don’t want to be responsible for another mouth. Apparently Rodanthe didn’t know this. I guess you can say I was adopted, instead of the other way around. I tried to discourage the attraction. I stopped feeding Rodanthe the chocolate he/she/it clearly craved. I didn’t leave any food out. When I’d see Rodanthe I’d clap my hands and and say “sppppshshhh” (like I do when those presumptuous cats show up on my porch/deck/car).

Rodanthe just stared at me when we came eye to eye. He/she/it never backed down. Just blink, blink, blink of those big black eyes.

I wasn’t sure just taking away the chocolate was enough to discourage the attraction. Two weekends ago – when I had company for dinner, I knew it was more than the chocolate between us. Although Rodanthe is a bit shy … he/she/it met my guests.

I’m not sure how long this will last … but since nothing else has been chewed/consumed by Rodanthe I chose to believe we’ve come to an agreement. He/she/it will be the perfect pet, requiring nothing from me – and I’ll continue to let him/her/it live under my dishwasher.

Rodanthe

I’ve acquired a pet. I’ve named it Rodanthe.

Pluses of Pet Ownership:

“Someone” at the house after work

Morning visits

Minimal feeding and watering requirements

It doesn’t wake me up too often

Minuses of Pet Ownership:

Pet Poop

Eaten chocolate if left lying around

High probability of procreation

The chewing!!

I don’t know. We’ll see how long this lasts.