I guess writing this blog is part of my avoidant behaviour... I'm hiding from the readings I should be doing for my university course... If it weren't for the last minute I would never get anything done!
We have had a really busy week! I needed some recovery time after the weekend spent at university and I took a little on Monday before swinging into action and cooking the 'Aromadorable Gunk' (thank you Carinthia!) in an enormous quantity. Tuesday was to be my introduction to TLOML's "extended, blended, family diner". So on Monday I cooked the sauce and that evening TLOML and I worked our way through my mum's "no fail Pavlova recipe" because TLOML's younger son turned 15 on Tuesday and he had requested a Pavlova for dessert instead of a cake!
The last time (the only time) I made a Pavlova was with mum coaching me through it in the kitchen of my duplex in St Paul Minnesota on the eve of my 44th birthday (2006). Anyone who reads my blog with any frequency will know how often I talk about my mum and what a huge part she plays in my life even now when she has been gone for three and a half years. So it was a lovely and bittersweet occasion to be making the Pav here in my new environment. I was more than a little sad that The Boy (my son) was not here to share the evening (and the Pav) too. I am missing him horribly.
The extended blended family is a very special group who are linked by shared children... it might best be described by an equation, which would necessitate an understanding of maths (which I do not possess) - but I will try...
TLOML and her ex (P) are the parents of the birthday boy (B)
P is now with D and she has two sons (T & F)
T & F's father, A, is now with M and they have two daughters (b & a)
This group generally gathers for "family dinner" to celebrate anyone's birthday or for other special events and on Tuesday night we hosted the entire clan (which now, including me, totals 11). We had a lovely night, the Aromadorable Gunk went over well and the Pavlova was gobbled up quickly. P and D hung out for a while later in the evening after A & M had to get the little girls home to bed. It was really good having a chance to get to know them better. I have some of social anxiety and P had been gently inclusive throughout the evening, especially noting that it was my first "family dinner" and I was grateful for his efforts though I still found the bigger group a bit overwhelming. The after dinner cuppa with P & D was more my style and I was much more relaxed. They both have really nice energy and it was great to let the anxiety go. It's a real credit to ALL of these people that they have such good relationships with their ex's and that the lives of the kids can include this bigger circle of love and support. If it takes a village to raise a child then this group is getting it right. On a personal note P said to me, (in front of TLOML) "I'm just glad you are making her happy" and I think it is the second time he has expressed that sentiment to me. It's wonderful to be with someone who has such a caring and civilized relationship with their ex.
Wednesday saw us gathering with the extended, blended family and a host of their other friends for the Syrian dinner which went really well. I did adjourn to the couch earlier than most but managed to handle the cushion on the floor while we ate. I lost much of yesterday to anti-histamine induced sleep following more itchy and scratchy and here I am today casually writing a blog!
I have been working up to a Roman blind repair project. I have investigated the mechanisms, purchased the cord, bought new split rings to replace the really cruddy ones that are on the blinds and made inquiries about getting a hot glue gun so that I can shorten them. This project is providing a nice distraction from the pile of readings I should be doing for my current course at Uni. Unfortunately I think the pulley mechanism at the end of the blind is dead so I might need to figure out how to replace that or jerry-rig up some kind of replacement. I will walk around this problem for a while longer before actually tackling it. There are (at least) three of them here that need repair. (An excellent avoidance technique.)
Almost every day, while she is at work, I send TLOML a text in which I tell her "I adore you" in a different language, today was Latin (Ego adorabunt te), though I have done languages from Afrikaans to Welsh. It's part of my job description as Officer in Charge of Adoration. TLOML finishes work early this afternoon... I think we should have lunch out and then maybe hit one of the waterfalls on the creek... Whatever we do will be fine though. We both seem to be pretty happy as long as we are reasonably close and not apart for too long. TLOML says she feels so safe with me that she can be a brat, she is too! But it just makes me smile. We are relaxed with each other in the way of couples who have been together for a long time. This has to be the lowest anxiety relationship I have ever been in! With no fights or arguments we have weathered an externally generated problem undamaged and perhaps even more closely bonded. Less than 4 months ago my life was very dark and I couldn't see much in the way of a positive future. My how things can change!
See? I have managed to absorb an hour and a half without picking up a text book!
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Thursday, 1 March 2012
Thursday, 16 February 2012
My itchy bitchy heart...
I should begin with an apology - To anyone who goes on to spend some amount of time with Billy Ray occupying your brain... I sincerely apologize (kind of)!
TLOML and I have finally had a cross word, she simply failed to understand the way it works when I cook something. When I cook - anyone who is going to consume the output simply MUST contribute to the chorus of angles singing "Hallelujah"; they MUST prearrange a Standing Ovation! Then upon tasting the gold encrusted output they MUST collapse in paroxysms of rapturous delight! It is simply NOT acceptable to stay on the phone and suggest that this ambrosia can be reheated later. Needless to say I got snippy, one might even say pissy... or if one was not very favourably disposed towards me one might say shitty... I didn't yell or scream, I didn't do back-flips of uncouth gestures, I think I kind of hurumphed off with words that were vaguely aligned with the much maligned and totally attitudinous "Whatever".
Interestingly enough the day after this moody 'tudey outburst I began doing the prereading for my soon to begin Master of Conflict and Dispute Resolution (yes the irony is not lost on me). One of the first things I learned is that the ability to simultaneously comprehend and understand multiple diverse points of view is a sign of having a highly developed ability to manage conflict. In effect I can recognize that my expectations with regard to the award presentation that needs to take place every time I come within a foot of the stove are unreasonable, and perhaps even a little childish, while simultaneously feeling angry and disrespected that those expectations have not been met. I have learned that when I feel these conflicting feelings (or perhaps when my inner adult is not doing a good enough job of giving my inner child a time out) I am engaging in intrapersonal conflict. I actually do quite a lot of that I think!
Now here is not the place to sound off about anyone else's contribution to a dispute so I will simply say that there are some aspects of my personality that might be just a touch anal and that I am not always my best and most grown up self when other people are a bit more loosey goosey with plans and targets than I am. Interestingly I gave the appearance of being hard and TLOML found that off-putting. I'm not hard, I'm never hard... that audible clang which sounds so hard is actually my shell crashing closed over my wounded, wimpy innards. I am a good representative subject of my star sign - Cancer. Under threat (real or imagined) this super-sensitive little crab hunkers down inside her shell with her pincers raised in defense.
In view of the fact that TLOML and I have been going through quite a stressful, and very frustrating, external situation I really think we are doing pretty well. It hasn't been easy for either of us and we have both proved ourselves to be capable of empathizing with the other and gently trying to find solutions that minimize the damage to us as a couple. As in all things communication is the absolute key and I know that I really shouldn't get cranky about not getting my standing ovation when I haven't fully explained the imperative need of said standing ovation (and the chorus of angels and paroxysms of rapture). We have talked it out, and moved on, feeling more loving and stronger and hopefully a little more aware of our individual needs.
OK so much for the bitchy part... now to the itchy... eeep!!! I now don't know if the stings are real or imagined. This place is crawling with a staggering bio-diversity of stinging and biting things! Over the last few days I have been almost constantly scratching. My skin is on the move with real, and brain induced false, sensations of being stung or bitten. I spend so much time slapping myself that I should get a pair of lederhosen and take up German folk dancing. I also overdid it a few days ago when I replaced the decking boards on the landing and I've been paying with constant muscle pain and roving spasms. Oh well at least I achieved something, I could have had the same pain and spasm while doing nothing. I'd like to launch into a big whinge right now about how irritated I am re hurting all the time but I'd rather close by suggesting that all stove manufacturers consider installing a special feature - when you turn the dial to OFF, the stove should play a soundtrack of a crowd giving a rousing round of applause, cheering and yelling "BRAVO!!!"
TLOML and I have finally had a cross word, she simply failed to understand the way it works when I cook something. When I cook - anyone who is going to consume the output simply MUST contribute to the chorus of angles singing "Hallelujah"; they MUST prearrange a Standing Ovation! Then upon tasting the gold encrusted output they MUST collapse in paroxysms of rapturous delight! It is simply NOT acceptable to stay on the phone and suggest that this ambrosia can be reheated later. Needless to say I got snippy, one might even say pissy... or if one was not very favourably disposed towards me one might say shitty... I didn't yell or scream, I didn't do back-flips of uncouth gestures, I think I kind of hurumphed off with words that were vaguely aligned with the much maligned and totally attitudinous "Whatever".
Interestingly enough the day after this moody 'tudey outburst I began doing the prereading for my soon to begin Master of Conflict and Dispute Resolution (yes the irony is not lost on me). One of the first things I learned is that the ability to simultaneously comprehend and understand multiple diverse points of view is a sign of having a highly developed ability to manage conflict. In effect I can recognize that my expectations with regard to the award presentation that needs to take place every time I come within a foot of the stove are unreasonable, and perhaps even a little childish, while simultaneously feeling angry and disrespected that those expectations have not been met. I have learned that when I feel these conflicting feelings (or perhaps when my inner adult is not doing a good enough job of giving my inner child a time out) I am engaging in intrapersonal conflict. I actually do quite a lot of that I think!
Now here is not the place to sound off about anyone else's contribution to a dispute so I will simply say that there are some aspects of my personality that might be just a touch anal and that I am not always my best and most grown up self when other people are a bit more loosey goosey with plans and targets than I am. Interestingly I gave the appearance of being hard and TLOML found that off-putting. I'm not hard, I'm never hard... that audible clang which sounds so hard is actually my shell crashing closed over my wounded, wimpy innards. I am a good representative subject of my star sign - Cancer. Under threat (real or imagined) this super-sensitive little crab hunkers down inside her shell with her pincers raised in defense.
In view of the fact that TLOML and I have been going through quite a stressful, and very frustrating, external situation I really think we are doing pretty well. It hasn't been easy for either of us and we have both proved ourselves to be capable of empathizing with the other and gently trying to find solutions that minimize the damage to us as a couple. As in all things communication is the absolute key and I know that I really shouldn't get cranky about not getting my standing ovation when I haven't fully explained the imperative need of said standing ovation (and the chorus of angels and paroxysms of rapture). We have talked it out, and moved on, feeling more loving and stronger and hopefully a little more aware of our individual needs.
OK so much for the bitchy part... now to the itchy... eeep!!! I now don't know if the stings are real or imagined. This place is crawling with a staggering bio-diversity of stinging and biting things! Over the last few days I have been almost constantly scratching. My skin is on the move with real, and brain induced false, sensations of being stung or bitten. I spend so much time slapping myself that I should get a pair of lederhosen and take up German folk dancing. I also overdid it a few days ago when I replaced the decking boards on the landing and I've been paying with constant muscle pain and roving spasms. Oh well at least I achieved something, I could have had the same pain and spasm while doing nothing. I'd like to launch into a big whinge right now about how irritated I am re hurting all the time but I'd rather close by suggesting that all stove manufacturers consider installing a special feature - when you turn the dial to OFF, the stove should play a soundtrack of a crowd giving a rousing round of applause, cheering and yelling "BRAVO!!!"
Wednesday, 1 February 2012
Rump pain and pain rump (Unsafe for vegetarians)
The other day TLOML and I walked into the bigger of the two tiny stupidmarkets on the island and I noticed an incredible deal in the meat department... Whole rump was for sale for only $5 a kilogram (this equates to roughly $2.27 per pound for my imperialist readers). We are both pretty determined bargain hunters and we both believe in stocking up when things are on sale. I went through all the vacuum sealed rumps and chose what looked to be the nicest one, fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your perspective, it was also one of the largest weighing in at well over 8 kg (roughly 18 lbs).
When I last lived in Australia back in the 1990's I lived in an area on the NSW Mid North Coast that, aside from being spectacularly beautiful, had a thriving beef industry. Our town of 10,000 people had no less than 8 butcher shops in the early 90's. Back in those days, when I was settled in a long term relationship with the woman who is The Boy's other parent, we often bought things like whole rump or a side of lamb. We would carry it home and I would spend however long it took to slice and freeze the spoils of our shopping trip.
I actually come from a long line of butchers. My dad was a doctor (pun intended) and his mother was the daughter, granddaughter, great-granddaughter, and great-great-granddaughter of butchers. I am seriously not kidding. My first Australian ancestor was a convict who arrived at the colony in 1792 and almost immediately established a butcher business where he employed/was allocated other convicts as labourers. That butcher shop was in George St Sydney opposite the Town Hall. While I understand that some may find this abhorrent I have actually always quite enjoyed handling meat
Now I know that others may want to hit me upside the head with a brick for being so thick, but yet again... yes I know this is a recurrent problem... I failed to realize that I am not in fact the same healthy, fit person I was fifteen years ago.
First I spent about two days looking at this massive package that was dominating one shelf in the fridge. Then I began a familiarization process with TLOML's set of knives that were sharp like sledgehammers. I'm not sure if I have mentioned it here lately but ever since the night of the Shabbat dinner (where I spent a while washing dishes) I have had a lingering case of 'Wimpy Arms Syndrome'(WAS). I'm not actually as weak as I feel, I can do stuff with my arms but afterwards I always feel like my arms are in an anaerobic state - sometimes for days. In a knife attack of a different kind I attacked the knives with the steel. That wore me out and exacerbated the 'WAS'.
Finally on Monday I copped a total rush and after dropping TLOML off to work I set about butchering the rump. Wow what a mammoth undertaking! This was clearly made more mammoth by my fixation on trimming ALL the fat from anything other than steaks. I would cut off the fatty bits and then cut the meat left on the fatty bits off them for the dog... I don't want to clog her arteries any more than I want to clog my own! I got half way through and had to have a rest for a while. Not only was the 'WAS' playing up but standing was making the rest of my body rebel and the rump was becoming quite a pain in the butt!
I resumed after a couple of hours horizontal. I ended up with;
When I last lived in Australia back in the 1990's I lived in an area on the NSW Mid North Coast that, aside from being spectacularly beautiful, had a thriving beef industry. Our town of 10,000 people had no less than 8 butcher shops in the early 90's. Back in those days, when I was settled in a long term relationship with the woman who is The Boy's other parent, we often bought things like whole rump or a side of lamb. We would carry it home and I would spend however long it took to slice and freeze the spoils of our shopping trip.
I actually come from a long line of butchers. My dad was a doctor (pun intended) and his mother was the daughter, granddaughter, great-granddaughter, and great-great-granddaughter of butchers. I am seriously not kidding. My first Australian ancestor was a convict who arrived at the colony in 1792 and almost immediately established a butcher business where he employed/was allocated other convicts as labourers. That butcher shop was in George St Sydney opposite the Town Hall. While I understand that some may find this abhorrent I have actually always quite enjoyed handling meat
Now I know that others may want to hit me upside the head with a brick for being so thick, but yet again... yes I know this is a recurrent problem... I failed to realize that I am not in fact the same healthy, fit person I was fifteen years ago.
First I spent about two days looking at this massive package that was dominating one shelf in the fridge. Then I began a familiarization process with TLOML's set of knives that were sharp like sledgehammers. I'm not sure if I have mentioned it here lately but ever since the night of the Shabbat dinner (where I spent a while washing dishes) I have had a lingering case of 'Wimpy Arms Syndrome'(WAS). I'm not actually as weak as I feel, I can do stuff with my arms but afterwards I always feel like my arms are in an anaerobic state - sometimes for days. In a knife attack of a different kind I attacked the knives with the steel. That wore me out and exacerbated the 'WAS'.
Finally on Monday I copped a total rush and after dropping TLOML off to work I set about butchering the rump. Wow what a mammoth undertaking! This was clearly made more mammoth by my fixation on trimming ALL the fat from anything other than steaks. I would cut off the fatty bits and then cut the meat left on the fatty bits off them for the dog... I don't want to clog her arteries any more than I want to clog my own! I got half way through and had to have a rest for a while. Not only was the 'WAS' playing up but standing was making the rest of my body rebel and the rump was becoming quite a pain in the butt!
I resumed after a couple of hours horizontal. I ended up with;
- two huge steaks
- five normal sized steaks
- six thin BBQ or sandwich steaks
- one about 1.5kg chunk for roasting
- roughly three kg of trimmed sliced stir fry meat (completely fat free)
I froze all of it except half the stir fry meat that I cooked up into my mother's famous steak diane for dinner. I don't know what has come over me. Here I am cooking twice in a week when in 2010 I probably only cooked twice in the whole year! I am developing a terror that TLOML now has these outrageous expectations of my performance as a "Domestic Goddess". Over and over I am telling her that I really can't cook and I only have three dishes (yes there is one still to come)... She doesn't believe me. I hate cooking. Oy Vey!
So just in case my cooking is exciting any interest in you, my long suffering reader, I will tell you how I made the steak diane.
Start with a nice quality cut of meat in my case rump (duh)... I have tried with blade which wasn't nearly as nice. Slice it very thinly and cut into pieces about 1.5 inches by 1 inch (it doesn't really matter as long as it is cut VERY thinly). Trim all fat and gristle from the meat. The closer to completely lean the better. The next thing I did was marinate the steak in a mixture of 3 parts red wine to 1 part Worcestershire Sauce, about a quarter of a cup of minced garlic (maybe a heaped tablespoon), and a VERY generous sprinkle of black pepper (I also threw in about fifteen whole black peppercorns). Just to give you some idea of proportions this was marinating in a tupperware container about 9 inches by 6 and was about 3 inches deep. I tossed that in the fridge and had another lie down that was urgently needed. The next thing I did was put the whole mix into a large saucepan on medium heat. I brought it to the boil stirring regularly and then turned it down and allowed it to simmer for a long time... maybe an hour? Well until it was reduced to about an inch less moisture in the pan than there was to begin. Then I poured in 600ml of thickened cream (just when you were thinking this might actually be good for you LOL), stirred constantly until it returned to a slow simmer. Then you just let it keep cooking with regular stirring until the meat is in a medium runny sauce... somewhere between a thin goulash and a thick soup. As you can tell by these instructions I have no idea about cooking descriptions, quantities, temps, or timing. To top it off I almost never taste what I am cooking and I cook by smell. If it looks and smells alright then it will taste ok too. It should be very strongly flavoured with the garlic and the pepper well represented. I made enough to feed the two of us for two nights.
OK TLOML was in the throes of ecstasy over the steak diane (I'm sure more than half the ecstasy comes from her not having to think about dinner for two nights in a row). So I have gone and given the wrong impression completely! She seems to think I'm pretty terrific and I hate the idea of the fall I am going to suffer when she sees how hopeless I really am. Now you know why I haven't been blogging as much lately... it's hard work being terrific!
Tuesday, 24 January 2012
Domestic Goddess....um...well...um...?
Ok here it is in black and white, the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth... (As best as I can relate it through the twisted lens of my perceptions.)
I've never been much good at cooking nor any of the other domestic arts.
I can get by, but only just. My idea of cooking is to get take-out or to go to a restaurant. My idea of cleaning is to not make a mess. I am pretty good at staying on top of the washing, at least that way I get to play with water, and I do like to wear clean clothes. Ironing is one of those things I can do but I avoid. Suffice it to say that I have spent my adult life taking a minimalistic approach to domesticity.
In my defense I will say that I am handy. Fixing things is generally fun, a bit of a puzzle and then a tremendously satisfying outcome that pours positive strokes into my instant gratification pleasure centre. A couple of days ago I fixed TLOML's sliding screen door. It took $12 and about five minutes (including diagnosis and then installation of the new rollers). I have been living large on the praise I got for that! Apparently it had been a giant pain in the arse for about five years. I'm working on procuring some decking board and I will be doing a little verandah repair in the next few days too... that ought to put a shine on my halo!
Anyway, yesterday, because TLOML had not had enough sleep, had gone to work and stayed late for a meeting, and was heading out in the evening for an exercise class, I decided to demonstrate my rusty dusty domestic skills and save TLOML a few worries. So after dropping TLOML off to work in the morning I went to the smaller of the two tiny supermarkets we have here on the island. (Note the use of the word "we" clearly I am beginning to identify as a resident!) I bought, pasta, broccoli, mushrooms, onions, zucchini, beautiful tomatoes with the vine still attached, and cheese. Then I headed home and stripped the bed and put on a load of washing (this involved a couple of trips up and down the quite long flight of stairs to ground level where the laundry and the clothes line are located).
Then I took another run down the street to the liquor store (the bottle shop) to get some cheap red wine for cooking. Finally it was time to start the masterpiece. If I may digress for a moment and correct a few misapprehensions... although I choose not to cook and I'm not very good at the timing and coordination of meal preparation (having had so little practice) I actually can cook. I'm reasonably creative (one day you should ask The Boy about the White Gumbo) and not bad at combining flavours (though the White Gumbo might belie that point).
It began with the rinds and the fat of 5 rashers of bacon cooked to a crisp and then removed, this leaves a small amount of bacon dripping which is far and away the most indulgently delicious fat for any cooking project! Then I sliced three big brown onions and tossed them in with two heaped teaspoons of garlic, one of ginger, and one level teaspoon of chilli. I had to drop in some butter as there wasn't enough bacon fat. Then I sliced and added about ten medium sized mushrooms. In went seven vine ripened tomatoes - sliced, the rest of the bacon thinly sliced, and about a cup of tomato paste and two cups of cheap red wine. Simmer and stir regularly. Meanwhile back at the ranch the washing came in from the line, unfortunately it needed my help and refused to spontaneously fold and stack itself. Then I sliced the zucchini and tossed it in, cut up the broccoli (even the stalk) and added it too. Another slosh of wine and turn it down to simmer and reduce. This concoction can be made with any veggies you happen to have on hand, any meat or it can be vegetarian, the only really standard requirements are the onions, tomatoes, and the wine. The rest is completely flexible. You can serve it on pasta or rice, or over meat or even on toast. TLOML and her son were both suitably impressed (I did warn them that they will need to wait for the next blue moon to see this or anything else cooked by me).
The only problem with my stint as a Domestic Goddess is that I overdid it a bit and I have been paying since about 4pm yesterday afternoon. Roving muscle spasms and some fairly cruel baseline pain have sidelined me today. I have even broken my rule about taking drugs that make me drowsy during the day. I caved in and took a valium a little while ago. I'm hoping that it will help with the spasms but so far not so good unfortunately. So yesterday's Goddess is today's giant slug lying down. I still think it was worth it!
All the while I was cooking I was trying to think of a suitable name for my creation. Heretofore it has always been just called "gunk" but I think it is deserving of a more elegant and sophisticated title. I considered calling it "Henry VIII Sauce" as I beheaded the zucchini... I would love to hear some suggestions?
I've never been much good at cooking nor any of the other domestic arts.
I can get by, but only just. My idea of cooking is to get take-out or to go to a restaurant. My idea of cleaning is to not make a mess. I am pretty good at staying on top of the washing, at least that way I get to play with water, and I do like to wear clean clothes. Ironing is one of those things I can do but I avoid. Suffice it to say that I have spent my adult life taking a minimalistic approach to domesticity.
In my defense I will say that I am handy. Fixing things is generally fun, a bit of a puzzle and then a tremendously satisfying outcome that pours positive strokes into my instant gratification pleasure centre. A couple of days ago I fixed TLOML's sliding screen door. It took $12 and about five minutes (including diagnosis and then installation of the new rollers). I have been living large on the praise I got for that! Apparently it had been a giant pain in the arse for about five years. I'm working on procuring some decking board and I will be doing a little verandah repair in the next few days too... that ought to put a shine on my halo!
Anyway, yesterday, because TLOML had not had enough sleep, had gone to work and stayed late for a meeting, and was heading out in the evening for an exercise class, I decided to demonstrate my rusty dusty domestic skills and save TLOML a few worries. So after dropping TLOML off to work in the morning I went to the smaller of the two tiny supermarkets we have here on the island. (Note the use of the word "we" clearly I am beginning to identify as a resident!) I bought, pasta, broccoli, mushrooms, onions, zucchini, beautiful tomatoes with the vine still attached, and cheese. Then I headed home and stripped the bed and put on a load of washing (this involved a couple of trips up and down the quite long flight of stairs to ground level where the laundry and the clothes line are located).
Then I took another run down the street to the liquor store (the bottle shop) to get some cheap red wine for cooking. Finally it was time to start the masterpiece. If I may digress for a moment and correct a few misapprehensions... although I choose not to cook and I'm not very good at the timing and coordination of meal preparation (having had so little practice) I actually can cook. I'm reasonably creative (one day you should ask The Boy about the White Gumbo) and not bad at combining flavours (though the White Gumbo might belie that point).
It began with the rinds and the fat of 5 rashers of bacon cooked to a crisp and then removed, this leaves a small amount of bacon dripping which is far and away the most indulgently delicious fat for any cooking project! Then I sliced three big brown onions and tossed them in with two heaped teaspoons of garlic, one of ginger, and one level teaspoon of chilli. I had to drop in some butter as there wasn't enough bacon fat. Then I sliced and added about ten medium sized mushrooms. In went seven vine ripened tomatoes - sliced, the rest of the bacon thinly sliced, and about a cup of tomato paste and two cups of cheap red wine. Simmer and stir regularly. Meanwhile back at the ranch the washing came in from the line, unfortunately it needed my help and refused to spontaneously fold and stack itself. Then I sliced the zucchini and tossed it in, cut up the broccoli (even the stalk) and added it too. Another slosh of wine and turn it down to simmer and reduce. This concoction can be made with any veggies you happen to have on hand, any meat or it can be vegetarian, the only really standard requirements are the onions, tomatoes, and the wine. The rest is completely flexible. You can serve it on pasta or rice, or over meat or even on toast. TLOML and her son were both suitably impressed (I did warn them that they will need to wait for the next blue moon to see this or anything else cooked by me).
The only problem with my stint as a Domestic Goddess is that I overdid it a bit and I have been paying since about 4pm yesterday afternoon. Roving muscle spasms and some fairly cruel baseline pain have sidelined me today. I have even broken my rule about taking drugs that make me drowsy during the day. I caved in and took a valium a little while ago. I'm hoping that it will help with the spasms but so far not so good unfortunately. So yesterday's Goddess is today's giant slug lying down. I still think it was worth it!
All the while I was cooking I was trying to think of a suitable name for my creation. Heretofore it has always been just called "gunk" but I think it is deserving of a more elegant and sophisticated title. I considered calling it "Henry VIII Sauce" as I beheaded the zucchini... I would love to hear some suggestions?
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Adventures of a lesbian agnostic carnivore
The fact that I am an agnostic carnivore did NOT prevent my friend S, in a fit of giggles, from signing me up to join her daughter at the local synagogue for a kosher vegetarian cooking class. In the process of signing me up my email address was repeatedly auto corrected to read "gentiles" - it may have been the I Phones way of trying to warn the synagogue that a heathen was soon to be in their midst!
Tonight was the night!
Would it be alarmingly ironic if there were thirteen in the class? I seriously think there were... (plus the teacher/chef and her partner)
I was being REALLY good until the onions.
There was a fellow there who was asking questions phrased in very odd ways... "Would you like to tell us something about the onions?" he asked. I'm thinking, 'Like what? That they were abandoned on a doorstep at birth? That they cost $3 a kilo? That they prefer their martini shaken, not stirred?' Clearly the chef was also wondering what he wanted to know but she bravely launched into an explanation that those were the nicest ones in the store. Then she leaned across the room with an onion in her outstretched hand and said. "Go on, feel how firm they are." I watched him hesitate, his hands almost reaching out but pausing tentatively, heading towards the onion but not making much progress, a pregnant pause hung over the room as he seemed to teeter on the horns of this great conundrum... I couldn't stand the tension...
"Go on mate, it's not every day a woman wants you to feel her onion!" I said.
His next comment related to the herbs and he asked her "How long does thyme keep?" I managed to leave that one alone... I also managed to resist when the chef was warning us very seriously NOT to let the orange zest sit in the water in which it was boiled and I successfully refrained from saying "It just isn't kosher".
Seriously though they were really nice people and I had a great time. The feast at the end of the meal was delicious, fresh and nutritious. I'd never been to a synagogue before, as chance would have it, but I'm pretty sure by the end of the 5 week course I will have spent more time in the synagogue than in any other house of worship, and that's just fine with me!
BTW thyme keeps for a week if it is in water.
Tonight was the night!
Would it be alarmingly ironic if there were thirteen in the class? I seriously think there were... (plus the teacher/chef and her partner)
I was being REALLY good until the onions.
There was a fellow there who was asking questions phrased in very odd ways... "Would you like to tell us something about the onions?" he asked. I'm thinking, 'Like what? That they were abandoned on a doorstep at birth? That they cost $3 a kilo? That they prefer their martini shaken, not stirred?' Clearly the chef was also wondering what he wanted to know but she bravely launched into an explanation that those were the nicest ones in the store. Then she leaned across the room with an onion in her outstretched hand and said. "Go on, feel how firm they are." I watched him hesitate, his hands almost reaching out but pausing tentatively, heading towards the onion but not making much progress, a pregnant pause hung over the room as he seemed to teeter on the horns of this great conundrum... I couldn't stand the tension...
"Go on mate, it's not every day a woman wants you to feel her onion!" I said.
His next comment related to the herbs and he asked her "How long does thyme keep?" I managed to leave that one alone... I also managed to resist when the chef was warning us very seriously NOT to let the orange zest sit in the water in which it was boiled and I successfully refrained from saying "It just isn't kosher".
Seriously though they were really nice people and I had a great time. The feast at the end of the meal was delicious, fresh and nutritious. I'd never been to a synagogue before, as chance would have it, but I'm pretty sure by the end of the 5 week course I will have spent more time in the synagogue than in any other house of worship, and that's just fine with me!
BTW thyme keeps for a week if it is in water.
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