There Will Be Roast Beast

For awhile, my version of Thanksgiving was going to be bowls of cereal while watching tv in our footie pj's.

Completely low maintenance.

Then I decided to splurge on a chicken from the Farmer's Market. Roasted paprika chicken with Parmesan potato rounds is always a favorite.

And the boy asked for pie. It is the ONLY time of year when the boy wants pie.

Little did he know, I am a former test pilot for Sara Lee.

Sara Lee pumpkin pie it is. For him and only him.

Then I realized how much I enjoy cranberry orange relish. I wish I could buy 40 individual cranberries because I am the only one who will eat it.

Me. Only me.

That's a lot of relish.

After going to the farmers market and grocery store, I ducked into the bottle shop because I wanted to treat myself to a bottle of wine for the mini festivities.

The best thing that the booze emporium does is to have a dude standing there behind the mobile mini bar with open bottles of wine.

One of my favorite indulgences is to flip on the radio early in the morning on the weekend and listen to The Splendid Table. I will listen to the wine guy and I will make a groggy note on his "cheap but good" picks and then I will go to the booze emporium and stand bewildered.

I will then pick out the wine with the most entertaining label or the funniest name cuz who has the brain space to remember all that expert advice shit?

That is why I love the wine dude at the booze emporium. I can give him my robotic answers and he will let me taste the wine of the day.

One of these days I will just go through the whole line and do shooters of wine and then leave without buying anything. Kind of like visiting my expensive perfume.

But not this time. He asked all the right questions to determine that yes, I was trailer trash with a very unrefined palate and I would be totally happy with purple kool aid spiked with vodka.

He then let me sample my sweet fruity wine.

I agreed that it was delicious and said "GIMME A BOTTLE".

He then paused and asked if I would be offended by the name

He quickly flashed me the label.

"Damn son!" I informed him. "That's what I get called on a good day!"

The bottle was for Thanksgiving.

Unfortunately, the bottle is now gone.

Thankfully, I did realize that a bottle of wine does not have to be considered "single serving size".

That's why it took me two whole nights to finish it.

Now I need to figure out what to drink with my chicken on Thanksgiving Day.

Got any purple kool aid and vodka?

It's Not A Real Addiction Unless You Can Find A Support Group

What do you get for someone on their 750th post? Cookies? I'll take chocolate no bakes please.

The story on chocolate no bakes? Back when I was in second or third grade one of my friends brought chocolate no bakes to school for her birthday or something (yes children, there once was a time when we were actually allowed to bring homemade food to school) and I had never had chocolate no bakes.

It was like CRACK! I know I had to have made an absolute ass of myself. Sorry Roxanne, I know it was your birthday but your cookies were just REALLY REALLY GOOD. I believe I followed the teacher around like a lost puppy dog, asking every three seconds "Did everyone get one yet???? Are there seconds????"

In other words, I was the kid that, if I were to meet myself in some horrifying parallel universe in which I am forced to look at the elementary aged me and see just how funny my mother dressed me, I would no doubt shoot out my hand and strangle myself right then and there. "NO YOU CANNOT HAVE ANY MORE FRICKIN' COOKIES!!!!"

And then I would disappear in a puff of smoke and it would all turn into an awful sci-fi cliche.

Damn, I just got tangent-sickness...

Anyway, I went home and trumpeted these cookies. They were like heaven! They were wonderful! OM MY GOD!

Then I went back to school and badgered my friend for the recipe.

Yes, just visualize this: Small child, ugly, ugly glasses, probably plaid pants, thick awful hair that always looked like a mongoose tried to mate with an ostrich, asking my very cool classmate for a recipe.

a recipe for craaaaaaaack!

But within a couple days she handed it to me, no doubt to get me the hell away from her.

My little fingers were trembling with anticipation. I had received manna from heaven! I actually remember being distracted in school that day because I was so excited to get home and GET MORE COOKIES!

When I finally got home and handed my mom the recipe she took one look at it and shrugged her shoulders "They're just no bakes..." She opened her recipe book and there, right there before my eyes, was THE SAME RECIPE.

I was stunned. It was like I didn't even know her. She had been collecting food stamps, all the while secreting the Hope Diamond in the bottom of her purse!

She had access to the Holy of Holies and she acted like IT WAS NO BIG DEAL.

But then?

She made me cookies.

And it was aaaaaaaaaalllllll better.

I still have her cookbook and that page is delightfully smudged.

For your consideration, I give you my childhood recipe for crack:

Chocolate No Bake Cookies

2 C. sugar
1/4 C. cocoa
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 stick butter
1/2 C. milk
2 1/4 C. Minute Oats
1/2 C. peanut butter (crunchy kind is great here)
1 tsp. vanilla

Mix sugar, cocoa, and salt in a 1 1/2 quart saucepan. Add butter and milk, bring to a boil. Boil for 1.5 minutes, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon. Remove from heat, add remaining ingredients. Mix for 1 minute. Drop by spoonsfuls onto wax paper. Chill until firm.

And when you're done with the saucepan? Don't share it with ANYONE! Take it into another room and lock the door behind you.

You're gonna need a little time alone.

Thinking Happy Thoughts-Thinking Happy Thoughts

Ms. H has been delivered and received.

We are back home.

And the son is gone for the night.

And I just picked another three pounds of raspberries from my garden.

Yes, another three pounds. From the same damn bush that has already given me over 16 pints of jam. Apparently all of the weather that has made this such a crap year for everything else in the garden is EXACTLY what raspberries need.

This looks like a job for Raspberry Cordial.

There seems to be a plethora of alcoholic cordials out there but I don't think that would be advisable. When one feels as if they are drowning, it doesn't help to raise your hand and volunteer to carry the anchor.

Plus, Marilla Cuthbert would not approve.

I have my second to last counseling appointment this week. I had occasion to speak to a law-type professional last week who made the stunning comment that "You know, this is going to be with you for the rest of your life."

For a fleeting moment, I almost said "Well, Duh!" But instead I just gibbered something stupid.

I know she was commenting on my impatience with not moving forward fast enough.

So in other words, calm down. This is going to be with you for the rest of your life so just sit down and relax.

Telling me that this is going to be with me for the rest of my life is like telling me the sky is blue and the grass is green. My daily goal is to actually just get out of bed in the morning before any thoughts of the past eight months go through my mind.

Sounds reasonable and simple.

It hasn't happened yet though.

Thought A leads to though B which leads to though C and I'm there and I haven't even thrown off the bedcovers.

I think I'm going to develop a mantra for every waking moment.

Rainbows and unicorns.
Rainbows and unicorns.
Rainbows and unicorns.
Rainbows and unicorns.

A Post So Well Behaved, Your Grandma Would Be Proud

I picked me some razzberries this morning from my razzberry bush. (It's growing next to the schnozzberries, which, I've heard, taste just like schnozzberries.)

I do believe the amount could be described as a "shit ton", if the phrase "shit ton" translates into three pounds.













I had intended to can a lot this year. I had intended to garden and can and be all swingin' like Christmas.

I had intended to have my head on straight and my life on track by now too.

I can only handle one thing at a time and that thing isn't even cleaning my house. I'm still working on the purging. I'm like a bulimic after a trip to Old Country Buffet.

So the canning and the gardening thing has been an expedition to the unfortunate, except for this morning that is.

I had a shit ton of raspberries and I knew how to use them. I washed up the canning equipment and I proceeded to can some straight up raspberry jam and then some strawberry/raspberry jam. (My daughter asked if I could make raspberry jam minus the raspberries. Schnozzberry jelly next week my dear.)

I ended up with eleven jars. I also learned a valuable lesson in pot size.

Always choose wisely when you pick out the pot to cook the jam in cuz it's rather inconvenient to bring it all to a rolling boil and discover that when jam overflows, it has a tendency to hit the burner and catch on fire.

I feel that any home economics experiment is augmented by the application of at least six inches of open flame.

I also recalled how canning is another one of those activities that, having a complete lack of depth perception, can be painful. There is nothing like using canning tongs to lower the jar into the boiling water bath and then dunking not only the tongs but your entire hand into the water because you have misjudged where the surface of the water is.

Have I ever told you that when I was in high school, I seriously toyed with the idea of becoming a brain surgeon? I read books on the anatomy and physiology of the brain and I found it absolutely riveting. Then I took drivers training and learned all about depth perception and how there was a reason why I always ran into walls and tripped down stairs.

So, instead of becoming a brain surgeon, I went into the merchant marines and learned to park boats. Then I became a paramedic and learned to drive an ambulance.

Did I point out that I'm not doing either of these activities anymore?

Now I want to become a quality control supervisor for Smucker's Jelly.

Have you ever really met a masochist?

Allow me to introduce myself.

I Wanna Pimp Myself Out To A Chef

I'm still learning little things about myself.

Even seven months after life hit the fan, I still catch myself in sadly funny situations.

Like food. I have been a person catering to the needs of everyone but me for years. Now I find myself in the kitchen saying "But what do I want?"

This has actually come out while I am making an entire meal that none of us want. Who am I cooking for? Guess. (You'll probably get a tacky prize made by small Chinese children and hey, that Carney with the three teeth? Meeeeoooooowwww!)

I thought I had this taken care of at the supermarket months ago. Back when I was flipping off the various things that I would buy for STBX as I reached for them and then realized that I didn't want them.

But the whole cooking thing. What do I want for dinner? I want an apple and some peanut butter. I want a glass of wine and some silence. I want to put my feet up and have my dog give me the look that says "Hey, at least you never have to wonder what to feed me...ANYTHING will do."

But when it comes to kids, I am obligated to cook. At least once a week. Whether they're hungry or not.

And the children are teenagers and still picky eaters. Fast food? They hate it. Homemade burgers? They hate it. Delicious chili? They hate it. Anything light and yummy for summer time cooking? They hate it. Slow cooked spareribs with homemade sauce that takes six hours? Delicious! Paprika Roasted Chicken and homemade potato rounds that takes two and a half hours? Delicious!

Post Raisin Bran in a somewhat clean bowl that takes 30 seconds? Delicious!

Guess what we're having for dinner tonight?

Tangents. Tangents Are Good!

I think I've mentioned this cookbook before...




Thanks to the marvelous chocolate chip cookies coming out of my oven right now, I'm mentioning it again. Along with the fabulous sandwich bread my son and I made last weekend, this cookbook has yet to let me down.

I think it boils down to the fact that America's Test Kitchen is SOOOOO anal retentive about trying a recipe a million times that I don't feel the need to try to change anything. Yes, it explains everything in excruciating detail but that also helps me learn and take that knowledge to the next cookbook that doesn't seem to do it right.

Plus, last week I found out what kind of tea they serve at the Saigon Cafe down on First Street. For the last year, I have avoided soda and have started drinking a lot of hot tea. Never have I been so pleased as when I drink the tea at Saigon Cafe.

Not being a tea-geek, I learned from the waiter that it was jasmine tea. When I got groceries yesterday, I found me some loose leaf jasmine tea.

Chewy gooey chocolate chip cookies and jasmine tea?

ROCK ON!

Hot Water! Welcome to the Twentieth Century!

Hmmmm. I wonder if there is a way to tell your online friends that you're going to prison...

I found that article to be so pathetic...but anything associated with online gaming is pathetic to me.

I finally got to meet with the prosecuting attorney yesterday. He chatted with my daughter in his office for a bit and then answered some of my questions. It was nice to be able to touch base with him and let him know how I was feeling. He seemed like a nice guy and it felt good to finally meet a lawyer that I honestly believed was on my side.

Today has been spent making and freezing meals as last week we ate out WAY to much. Between all the school activities, group therapy, solo therapy, lawyer appointments, and whatever else happens to pop us, there is rarely an evening when we don't have something to do. Put that on top of the fact that I feel like I'm holding myself together with bubblegum and good intentions and needless to say, coming home and cooking isn't generally high on my list of fun things to do. When your kid asks "Mom, what's for dinner" and you start to weep silently, yeah...kind of an indication that it will be a great night for Cheerios.

I am, however, admitting to FINALLY being in love.

He's a little shorter than me and perhaps built like a brick shit house but ladies I have got to let you in on a little secret...





He's GREAT in the shower!

The Most Edible Day Of The Year

When I was first married, I really only had a couple dishes that I could make with anything even close to pride. One of the selling points of marrying my husband was that he TOLD me he could cook. Of course, it wasn't until after we were married that I began to learn a key fact about my husband...while not necessarily making stuff up, presenting it in such a way as to make the listener believe that there is a lot more going on than is technically accurate, is THE NORM.

Having a job as a cook in a Mexican restaurant for six months when you are in your stoner twenties does not make you Rick Freakin Baylis. A week, A WEEK, after our marriage, I was informed that he had reached the limits of his talents in the kitchen and it was now MY turn to cook. Seventeen years later, no one has wrenched the baton from my hand and this relay race has turned into a marathon.

The thing that he failed at is the realization that the human brain has the capacity to learn new things. Being brought up in the midwest surrounded by jello with marshmallows and grated carrots (seriously, WHAT THE FUCK???), and then moving down to Oklahoma where they serve chicken fried steak along with vegetables coated in goo and fried, it is amazing that I have actually survived at all. Also, while I desperatly enjoy reading the church lady cookbooks that have 421 recipes, all involving velveeta and mayonaise, in the end they are best left adorning the shelf and giving your guests the impression that once in your life, just perhaps, you actually stepped into a church.

As I've said before, the more weight I lose (70 pounds so far), the more I want to use calories to eat good things, not just things to fill the gob hole. I've always been a sucker for cooking shows and since getting hi def tv, I've been learning a lot from America's Test Kitchen and it's sister show, Cook's Country. Up until now, most cookbooks and cooking shows just tell you what to do, not WHY you're doing it. Now that I'm learning a lot of the "why", I'm getting better in other areas of cooking as well. Also, not being one for blind allegiance, I'm finding that I really do follow their recipes because they've already done every single one eleventy million times and you know that in at least one of those eleventy million times, they changed it and did it the way that you're thinking and OBVIOUSLY, it sucked so don't waste your time.

I've recently gotten the last two annuals which have all that year's magazines in hardcover and I've also gotten the Cook's Country Cookbook. Thus far, every single recipe I've tried has been amazing. Nothing has fallen down, leaving me with my arms in the air in a gesture of supplication as the smoke roils through my kitchen and I shout to the heavens "Ming Tsai! How could you lead me to believe that you could make a damn pot of rice that way????"

Although I think I'm getting some skillz, I must admit, I don't really press my kids to learn to cook. My daughter is EXACTLY like I was at her age. "Call me when it's ready and NOT UNTIL!!!" (She recently asked if I knew that I didn't HAVE to grate my own parmesean cheese. "Do you know that you can just get it in this green can and it's all ready to use?" I told her she was giving me Vietnam flashbacks to my childhood.) My son, on the other hand, actually asks me ahead of time to be in charge of something when I cook a big meal. While it used to be things like making the Jiffy cornbread mix for the cornbread stuffing (cornbread stuffing is the ONLY good thing from the south), he has now graduated to bread and roll making.

So that's where I'm heading now. Into the kitchen to start cooking. I'll be listening to my favorite holiday tradition, Turkey Confidential, lighting some of my favorite candles (thank you Amy! Still enjoying the Cinnamon bun candle!) and sharing the very small space with my personal baker. The food is secondary and the meal is an afterthought but that time in the kitchen together? That's what I'm thankful for.