NFTNIF Episode 12
Last week we took a
giant stride toward functionality – we bought 3 chairs for the dining
room! Chairs! We got them at the resale store next to WinCo when we went
grocery shopping. WinCo is a life saver by the way on a tight budget.
Two of the chairs have a pale green tough plastic covering, and the
third is maroon leather. We can now all sit down to a meal at once, and
using the desk chair we can even have a guest! All sitting down! Inside
the house (instead of on the deck which is the only place we have been
able to sit down to a meal – and it's getting way too cold for that to
last).
The colors have fallen from the sunrise into the foliage -
color changes – a pair of willow became the palest yellow; flaming
golden aspen, rusty gold on aspen; maroon burning bush, crimson and
scarlet maple, some bush I don't recognize - bright orange, another tree
I don't recognize, the leaves are a deep purple.
The last
sunset I missed but I caught the polychromatic wash of post-sunset
colors, and the most fascinating was rust red mixed seamlessly with the
palest blue – both existing at once, blending somehow but still
discernible as individuals. No human artist can achieve these effects,
only nature can give us something that vivid, that rich, that heart
breaking. Well, I suppose a human artist can manage heart-break too.
Dustin
and I walked on the first nice day to buy winter boots. We went to
“Boot World”, confident that we would both find something. The courteous
salesperson was apologetic, chagrined and spoke as to a pair of
long-time confidants – there were no winter boots in the store! We were
the 3rd party to come in that day asking for boots yet none had been
delivered. His every entreaty to Boot World corporate had fallen on deaf
ears – he implored our understanding. We promised to call him back in 2
weeks. We walked to the next store – they had 3 pairs only! They were
also waiting for their boots. What's up with that? Don't people realize
we need boots BEFORE the snow flies since we are walking to the
store?!?! Of course they don't realize that – everyone drives everywhere
here in Idaho Falls.
Our next door neighbor Donna got a burn
permit from the city of Ammon. Her nephew came over to help, D., Glenn
and I gathered all the sticks, stems, branches and brush taken from our
yard and put them over the fence in her yard. There the nephew sawed up
the cherry branches trimmed by D. from our cherry tree (!!!) and Donna
kept the thickest pieces for smoking. In her field, now stripped of
everything growing, we made a heap of sticks and set it to burning.
There was a persistent breeze and it fanned the flames as we stood guard
and kept the blaze flaming with everything we had gathered. We chatted
about the neighborhood, about our house – it turns out that our house
came from another town where, in a flood, it floated off of its
foundation. It was moved to this lot and that explains many of the novel
and kludgy set-ups here such as the gas pipe that winds around the
house to the back where it enters to feed our utilities – then about
China and our Congress, about food and college. Finally we had a mound
of white ash and lumpy cinders, which we raked about and then soaked
from the hose.
Meanwhile, having chatted with the neighbors on
the other side of the house earlier that day, I gave the mother a
quantity of fresh apple butter. In return, the entire family came over
with rakes and bags, and in a trice they had cleaned up all the leaves
in the yard. They took them to their yard, piled them with their own
leaves, and mom and kids ran and jumped in the pile! Everything worked
out for everyone! They also told me that there will be some
trick-or-treaters but not many. They advised us to only get candy we
will eat and not too much of it unless we planned to eat it all anyway.
Speaking
of candy – D and my friend Diana sent us some Halloween candy! We were
so happy to get it – thanks very very much Diana!!!!!!
Aside
from Glenn's birthday lasagne (see Episode 11), garlic bread and the
regular fare of breakfast 'taters I have not made anything too notable
except - potatos au gratin. I will say that the neighbors on both sides
got some lasagne, just to keep up our end of things – remember this if
you forget everything else from NFTNIF - “who feeds me is my friend” -
this is a basic human truth, extending to other species as well. It's
worth noting here that I am still eating plums and apples – both still
so delicious!
Potatoes au gratin recipe – start with 3 cups of
freeze-dried sliced potatoes from WinCo! Pour 3 cups of boiling water
onto the potatoes, make sure the water covers them, stir a bit and let
them soak for 10 mins, then drain and discard remaining water. In a
small sauce pan, melt 2 TBSP butter, and stir in 2 TBSP of flour and 1
tsp of salt, and mix until well blended. Remove pot from heat and add 2
cups milk. Return to heat and boil mixture stirring constantly. Stir
while boiling for one minute. Butter a baking pan and lay down a layer
of potatoes. Mix 2 cups grated cheese (I used medium cheddar) and ½ cup
of chopped green onion and put half onto the potatoes layer. Add half of
the milk/flour/butter/salt mix, then repeat. - potatoes, cheese, sauce
mix. Cover with grated Parmesan. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes, let sit for
5 minutes before serving. It's amazing!
Next time I am going to
use some cream, and add chopped garlic to the sauce mix. If anyone
tries these or has a variant – let me know! You could also start with
fresh potatoes, wash and slice them into thin slices, then quarter the slices so that they cook through.
We
have been very grateful for our Indian summer – it has been 6 days of
perfectly clear, cloudless warm days and deep sky at night – elegant
Cassiopeia reclines languorously on her couch, mighty Orion watching with
unsleeping vigilance and at his heels his dog Sirius! Jewels on a
geometry of black velvet.
That's it for this episode – stay tuned for more NFTNIF!
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Saturday, October 19, 2013
NFTNIF Episode 11
NFTNIF - Episode 11
Well I have been in a cooking frenzy since the last report.
Pizza – used store-bought dough, made my sauce from; 1 small can tomato paste – mixed with a can of water. Add oil, pepper, garlic and onion powder, pepper, italian seasoning and salt. Spread half of this over the dough for the crust, top with chopped black olives, pineapple pieces, sliced tomato and fresh grated mozzarella and grated parmesan. Bake and eat! Delicious!
Old fashioned apple butter – wash & section 40 apples, removing the core, seeds and any insect habitats/inhabitants. Grate in food processor. Place into slow cooker with ½ cup brown sugar, juice from half a lime and a whole lemon, 1 ½ teaspoons cinnamon, ½ teaspoon chili powder. Cook (stirring occasionally) on high for 6 hours, on low for 26 hours. Cool, put into containers. Since I did not add a lot of sugar and cooked it for so long, this apple butter is brown, very rich and slightly tart. I gave some to the neighbor (Donna) who let us pick the apples.
Stewed apples – clean and slice apples, cook with brown sugar, cinnamon, a dab of balsamic vinegar, stir occasionally. Delicious over pancakes, ice cream or in a pie. Donna got some too.
Lasagne stuffing – chop 1 bunch red swiss chard, 1 bunch of spinach. Peel and chop ½ of a bulb of garlic (about 10-12 buds), fry in canola oil. When garlic starts to turn golden, add the chopped greens, 1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar, a couple splashes of soy sauce, garlic powder, onion powder, black pepper, italian seasoning. Chop 14 crimini mushrooms and add once greens are reduced to about half of their original volume. Dice a medium onion small, then add after mushrooms are reduced to about half THEIR original size. Stir fry until greens, onion and mushrooms are cooked. Set aside and allow to cool. Add 1 lb ricotta cheese and stir.
Lasagne noodles – 1 cup of flour, 1 large egg, very small amounts of oil and water. Blend until dough coheres into a ball. Roll out dough into thin, lasagne size strips, dust with flour and spread to dry. Repeat until you have enough noodles for your dish. When you are ready to make the lasagne, brush off the dusting of flour, cook the pasta strips in boiling water until slightly tender then drain. Using the pasta sauce from Episode 10, construct lasagne: cover bottom of baking pan with a layer of sauce, lay down strips, slightly overlapping until they cover the sauce. Cover the strips with another layer of sauce. Add a layer of stuffing, then cover with sauce. Repeat until stuffing is used up, or pan is almost full to the top. The last layers should be – in ascending order, sauce, pasta strips, sauce. Cover with grated mozzarella and parmesan, bake in oven at 400 until cheese topping is bubbly and beginning to brown (25-30 mins). Remove, let cool, cut and serve!
I won't bore you with reports of breakfast (breakfast potatoes with onion), lunches (whatever is handy) – just the highlights. I found the recipe for pumpkin log, and will make that after Halloween (when we can sacrifice one of our ornamental pumpkins to the cause of cuisine); this will be spread with apple butter, rolled and topped with cream cheese whipped with powdered sugar. If you have never had pumpkin log, it's totally amazing. Recipe to be made available in the report on me making it in November.
The neighbors have fresh reasons for feeling unhappy about us besides the shaggy lawn, which is, after all, only something they have to look at, not actually deal with. All of the trees on our property are starting to shed their leaves, and the tree in the front yard has leaves falling continuously - raining - covering our yard, obscuring pavement and shaggy lawn, now blowing across the street to the pristine lawn there. That lawn used to look like a golf course, now it is dotted with autumnal leaves – all from our yard. Happily that family seems to be out of town – I dread their return. Will they lend us a rake?
Of course, we have no rake and it's not in our budget at this time. See what happens when poor people from California move into the neighborhood? Luckily we are otherwise blameless neighbors – we are quiet, do not have visitors, do not bother others; only we are not properly programmed for lawns and yards. It never ceases to amaze me when I see our neighbors riding their riding mowers twice a week, using leaf blowers; investing astonishing amounts of time, labor, gasoline and all to maintain a smooth green living carpet. What could Americans accomplish if they did not have this obsession with their lawns? Where did lawns come from anyway? Who started this colossal waste of time? Can anyone break this frantic cycle?
Our entire Halloween decore consists of 1 white pumpkin, 1 orange pumpkin the same size that is laced and veined with ropy greenery, and the orange squash given to us shortly after we moved in by the kids next door; the squash they said “This one is for Ralph!” I already intend on sacrificing the pumpkins to haute cuisine after Halloween – and the neighbor with the kids decorated their yard to the teeth so we don't feel so bad. Actually we are the middle of the continuum formed by ourselves and our neighbors on each side – the kids' house is a nightmare on Maple; our house a tasteful exercise in minimalism, and Donna has done nothing at all for Halloween, although our leaves are contributing to a slight air of fall festivity (until she breaks out her formidable armament of lawn care machinery).
Every morning is silvered by frost now – and it is later each day that the sun unsheathes all those blades of grass. The full moon shone into our basement bedroom like a police spotlight last night. The nights are terribly cold and the days, if sunny become very pleasant; if cloudy then they are also cold and windy.
My beard has finally grown long enough that it no longer looks like simple negligence – but it is far from the full mountain-man face fur I am hoping for. It went through a SECOND phase of curling around enough to stab my face – like needles, jabbing into my lips and other facial skin one does not even think of until it is suddenly pierced by the curling hairs. I have to say it brought tears to my eyes more than once. I came within an ace of shaving it all off, but I noticed that my face is slightly warmer under the beard.
That's all for NFTNIF, Episode 11. Drop me a line or comment if you like – especially anyone who tries a recipe. Much Love from Idaho Falls!
Well I have been in a cooking frenzy since the last report.
Pizza – used store-bought dough, made my sauce from; 1 small can tomato paste – mixed with a can of water. Add oil, pepper, garlic and onion powder, pepper, italian seasoning and salt. Spread half of this over the dough for the crust, top with chopped black olives, pineapple pieces, sliced tomato and fresh grated mozzarella and grated parmesan. Bake and eat! Delicious!
Old fashioned apple butter – wash & section 40 apples, removing the core, seeds and any insect habitats/inhabitants. Grate in food processor. Place into slow cooker with ½ cup brown sugar, juice from half a lime and a whole lemon, 1 ½ teaspoons cinnamon, ½ teaspoon chili powder. Cook (stirring occasionally) on high for 6 hours, on low for 26 hours. Cool, put into containers. Since I did not add a lot of sugar and cooked it for so long, this apple butter is brown, very rich and slightly tart. I gave some to the neighbor (Donna) who let us pick the apples.
Stewed apples – clean and slice apples, cook with brown sugar, cinnamon, a dab of balsamic vinegar, stir occasionally. Delicious over pancakes, ice cream or in a pie. Donna got some too.
Lasagne stuffing – chop 1 bunch red swiss chard, 1 bunch of spinach. Peel and chop ½ of a bulb of garlic (about 10-12 buds), fry in canola oil. When garlic starts to turn golden, add the chopped greens, 1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar, a couple splashes of soy sauce, garlic powder, onion powder, black pepper, italian seasoning. Chop 14 crimini mushrooms and add once greens are reduced to about half of their original volume. Dice a medium onion small, then add after mushrooms are reduced to about half THEIR original size. Stir fry until greens, onion and mushrooms are cooked. Set aside and allow to cool. Add 1 lb ricotta cheese and stir.
Lasagne noodles – 1 cup of flour, 1 large egg, very small amounts of oil and water. Blend until dough coheres into a ball. Roll out dough into thin, lasagne size strips, dust with flour and spread to dry. Repeat until you have enough noodles for your dish. When you are ready to make the lasagne, brush off the dusting of flour, cook the pasta strips in boiling water until slightly tender then drain. Using the pasta sauce from Episode 10, construct lasagne: cover bottom of baking pan with a layer of sauce, lay down strips, slightly overlapping until they cover the sauce. Cover the strips with another layer of sauce. Add a layer of stuffing, then cover with sauce. Repeat until stuffing is used up, or pan is almost full to the top. The last layers should be – in ascending order, sauce, pasta strips, sauce. Cover with grated mozzarella and parmesan, bake in oven at 400 until cheese topping is bubbly and beginning to brown (25-30 mins). Remove, let cool, cut and serve!
I won't bore you with reports of breakfast (breakfast potatoes with onion), lunches (whatever is handy) – just the highlights. I found the recipe for pumpkin log, and will make that after Halloween (when we can sacrifice one of our ornamental pumpkins to the cause of cuisine); this will be spread with apple butter, rolled and topped with cream cheese whipped with powdered sugar. If you have never had pumpkin log, it's totally amazing. Recipe to be made available in the report on me making it in November.
The neighbors have fresh reasons for feeling unhappy about us besides the shaggy lawn, which is, after all, only something they have to look at, not actually deal with. All of the trees on our property are starting to shed their leaves, and the tree in the front yard has leaves falling continuously - raining - covering our yard, obscuring pavement and shaggy lawn, now blowing across the street to the pristine lawn there. That lawn used to look like a golf course, now it is dotted with autumnal leaves – all from our yard. Happily that family seems to be out of town – I dread their return. Will they lend us a rake?
Of course, we have no rake and it's not in our budget at this time. See what happens when poor people from California move into the neighborhood? Luckily we are otherwise blameless neighbors – we are quiet, do not have visitors, do not bother others; only we are not properly programmed for lawns and yards. It never ceases to amaze me when I see our neighbors riding their riding mowers twice a week, using leaf blowers; investing astonishing amounts of time, labor, gasoline and all to maintain a smooth green living carpet. What could Americans accomplish if they did not have this obsession with their lawns? Where did lawns come from anyway? Who started this colossal waste of time? Can anyone break this frantic cycle?
Our entire Halloween decore consists of 1 white pumpkin, 1 orange pumpkin the same size that is laced and veined with ropy greenery, and the orange squash given to us shortly after we moved in by the kids next door; the squash they said “This one is for Ralph!” I already intend on sacrificing the pumpkins to haute cuisine after Halloween – and the neighbor with the kids decorated their yard to the teeth so we don't feel so bad. Actually we are the middle of the continuum formed by ourselves and our neighbors on each side – the kids' house is a nightmare on Maple; our house a tasteful exercise in minimalism, and Donna has done nothing at all for Halloween, although our leaves are contributing to a slight air of fall festivity (until she breaks out her formidable armament of lawn care machinery).
Every morning is silvered by frost now – and it is later each day that the sun unsheathes all those blades of grass. The full moon shone into our basement bedroom like a police spotlight last night. The nights are terribly cold and the days, if sunny become very pleasant; if cloudy then they are also cold and windy.
My beard has finally grown long enough that it no longer looks like simple negligence – but it is far from the full mountain-man face fur I am hoping for. It went through a SECOND phase of curling around enough to stab my face – like needles, jabbing into my lips and other facial skin one does not even think of until it is suddenly pierced by the curling hairs. I have to say it brought tears to my eyes more than once. I came within an ace of shaving it all off, but I noticed that my face is slightly warmer under the beard.
That's all for NFTNIF, Episode 11. Drop me a line or comment if you like – especially anyone who tries a recipe. Much Love from Idaho Falls!
Thursday, October 10, 2013
NFTNIF Episode 10
Notes From the North IF Decimus Parte
Most days begin like a fire kindling to life from smoldering coals. The blackness gives grudging way to the faintest of lightness, then asudden deep and rich colors are aborning. Ocher, umber, charcoal, maroon, burnt orange, ashes and coals mixed in the horizon. And, like fire, the clouds catch color, burning swiftly to yellow and pink and rose and molten gold and swiftly the colors burn their way across and through the clouds and they fall to ash colors - smeary gray and lighter gray and gatherings of silvery white and finally the colors draw free of the clouds leaving only ash colors - the colors that are left when the fire is gone.
Most mornings now the lawn is silvered with frost - the whole of it dipped in mercury and then frozen to a brittle but scintillating sculpture of grass. This silvering yields most reluctantly to the warmth of morning - every pocket of shadow clings to its galvanized coat until it's burned away in the wan sunlight, a feeble but (for now) irresistible energy weapon turned on the shielding of frost.
The advance of winter has enforced some behaviors on me. For one, I have returned to my Michigan practice of wearing layers. Layers allow you to maintain the desired body temperature irrespective of the environment. Underneath, a t-shirt. Next layer, a long sleeve shirt, maybe a turtle neck. Next, a sweat shirt. Next, a hoody, maybe two. If it's really cold, a winter coat over everything. That's not even counting a scarf (have not had to go there yet!), mittens or gloves, thermal underwear, multiple pairs of socks - some really thick and heavy. Winter - I am ready for you!
To get even more ready, I have started to grow a beard. Growing a beard has to be one of the more uncomfortable things a body can do. First, it's an unsightly, prickly mess warning everyone that you are at least unkempt, probably low-class, maybe even desperate in some way. Then, as the growth continues, the hairs curve around, picking and poking the skin that supports them. Itchy, ugly, uncomfortable, affording little or no extra warmth for the pain and discomfort.
Slowly it grows, covering more of my face, getting longer and curling once more away from my beleaguered epidermis. Some of the hairs do not break entirely free of their genetive hollows, burrowing under the skin, exciting an immune response - the body at war with itself. I smile and smile and sigh and wait. Finally, once the hair is long enough that it forms its own shield against the growing hair, it starts to infiltrate nostrils, mouth, like my awful lawn, growing and growing insensibly, following it's own imperatives. What have I done?
And the insult to a host on minute injuries - the hair that grows now is not the dark, anarchistic beard of yesteryear - it is the silver shot beard of an Old Testament prophet, returned from mind-blasting visions and conversations with God in the desert, only our desert is cold, and the vision stares back at me from the mirror. This better keep my face warm.
D finally got paid, so we paid bills and then went shopping. D's friend Michelle drove into town to go grocery shopping and we hitched a ride with her. We bought food and food and food. That began my spate of cooking.
Our lawn looks like someone randomly shaved the head of a drunk friend. Parts of it are too heaped with trench dirt, other parts of it are blotched like a leper with patches of clay and ostrich-egg-sized stones. All of those parts have not been mowed. The rest was mowed to the quick when we had the chance. The guys who did the digging and strewing and changing of the pipe left some tools here along with the mess. The boss, Mr. E. came back over here quickly and quietly - trying to sneak back out with his tools, but Glenn caught him and asked when he would be cleaning up the lawn. Mr. E. was totally non-plussed by being caught, stammered some vague answer and left, leaving behind his wheel-barrow in earnest of finishing the job.
Since it's harvest time, and our neighbor keeps begging us to take more fruit, D and I walk over to her place and pick a bazillion plums. I go back later and pick a mere whajillion apples. Since it's impossible to eat them all even though we try, it's time for cooking and freezing!
I made the following recipes:
Apple/plum/apricot jam.
Mince the flesh of 40 italian plums, 20 tart, firm apples and a package of dried turkish apricots. Squeeze the juice of half a lemon, half a cup of brown sugar, half a teaspoon of chili powder, 3 oz. of red cooking wine and cook in a slow cooker all day, stirring frequently. Made 40 oz. of jam.
Plum jam.
Mince the flesh of a lot of Italian plums. Add 1/4 teaspoon of ground red pepper, the juice of half a lime, 2 oz of red cooking wine. Stew all day. made 4 cups of lovely jam.
Cinnamon, apple-lime pie.
Slice 24 apples into thin crescents. Sprinkle with the juice of half a lime, 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon, 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract, 6 oz. of brown sugar. Mix well and set into 2 graham cracker pie crusts. Cook at 425 for 20-25 minutes, remove from oven and cover with aluminum foil. Serve with vanilla ice cream.
Spaghetti sauce.
Mince 30 field fresh tomatoes. Mince 10-15 garlic buds and saute them in (canola) oil. Add the tomatoes as garlic begins to brown. Add 2 teaspoons italian seasoning, 1/2 teaspoon sea salt, 1 teaspoon ground black pepper, 1/4 cup red cooking wine, 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder, 1/2 teaspoon onion powder, 2 bay laurel leaves. Stew at a low heat for 4-5 hours. If you use fresh tomatoes like we did - it's amazing!
Spaghetti squash casserole.
Cut a spaghetti squash in half along the long axis. Remove the seeds. Place cut-side down in a baking tray or dish along with enough water to cover the bottom of the pan. bake at 425 for 25 minutes. Remove from oven and cut side up to cool. remove the flesh.
Stir fry broccoli and onion with soy sauce, black pepper and garlic powder. Stir fry mushrooms cut into thick slices with minced garlic, white wine, white pepper (or black if no white pepper available).
Put a layer of spaghetti sauce (see above) into a baking pan, add the squash in a layer over the sauce. Add the broccoli/onion mix, cover with the mushrooms. Cover once more with spaghetti sauce. Top with cheese, and cook uncovered at 425 for 25-30 minutes, until cheese is browning.
I froze half of the spaghetti squash for later, put up one pies worth of pie filling, and stocked the refrigerator with jams.
The cat I have seen in our yard actually lives with the neighbor with kids. I saw it arrange itself into it's house - then we gazed at each other across our domains, two friendly monarchs secure in our realms.
It turns out that I am going to be covered on D's health insurance, as his "other". So no ACA plan for me at this point.
We picked some more apples today, and I will be making apple butter next. I also decided to freeze plum halves since you can't even buy these in stores.
So another day spirals down into night - fires burning out in a great gush of color and burning the day to ash. A blanket of gray covers the sky, over us and under the stars.
That's it for this report. Except,
The Walking Dead and Game of Thrones both start soon!!!!!! WOOT!
Most days begin like a fire kindling to life from smoldering coals. The blackness gives grudging way to the faintest of lightness, then asudden deep and rich colors are aborning. Ocher, umber, charcoal, maroon, burnt orange, ashes and coals mixed in the horizon. And, like fire, the clouds catch color, burning swiftly to yellow and pink and rose and molten gold and swiftly the colors burn their way across and through the clouds and they fall to ash colors - smeary gray and lighter gray and gatherings of silvery white and finally the colors draw free of the clouds leaving only ash colors - the colors that are left when the fire is gone.
Most mornings now the lawn is silvered with frost - the whole of it dipped in mercury and then frozen to a brittle but scintillating sculpture of grass. This silvering yields most reluctantly to the warmth of morning - every pocket of shadow clings to its galvanized coat until it's burned away in the wan sunlight, a feeble but (for now) irresistible energy weapon turned on the shielding of frost.
The advance of winter has enforced some behaviors on me. For one, I have returned to my Michigan practice of wearing layers. Layers allow you to maintain the desired body temperature irrespective of the environment. Underneath, a t-shirt. Next layer, a long sleeve shirt, maybe a turtle neck. Next, a sweat shirt. Next, a hoody, maybe two. If it's really cold, a winter coat over everything. That's not even counting a scarf (have not had to go there yet!), mittens or gloves, thermal underwear, multiple pairs of socks - some really thick and heavy. Winter - I am ready for you!
To get even more ready, I have started to grow a beard. Growing a beard has to be one of the more uncomfortable things a body can do. First, it's an unsightly, prickly mess warning everyone that you are at least unkempt, probably low-class, maybe even desperate in some way. Then, as the growth continues, the hairs curve around, picking and poking the skin that supports them. Itchy, ugly, uncomfortable, affording little or no extra warmth for the pain and discomfort.
Slowly it grows, covering more of my face, getting longer and curling once more away from my beleaguered epidermis. Some of the hairs do not break entirely free of their genetive hollows, burrowing under the skin, exciting an immune response - the body at war with itself. I smile and smile and sigh and wait. Finally, once the hair is long enough that it forms its own shield against the growing hair, it starts to infiltrate nostrils, mouth, like my awful lawn, growing and growing insensibly, following it's own imperatives. What have I done?
And the insult to a host on minute injuries - the hair that grows now is not the dark, anarchistic beard of yesteryear - it is the silver shot beard of an Old Testament prophet, returned from mind-blasting visions and conversations with God in the desert, only our desert is cold, and the vision stares back at me from the mirror. This better keep my face warm.
D finally got paid, so we paid bills and then went shopping. D's friend Michelle drove into town to go grocery shopping and we hitched a ride with her. We bought food and food and food. That began my spate of cooking.
Our lawn looks like someone randomly shaved the head of a drunk friend. Parts of it are too heaped with trench dirt, other parts of it are blotched like a leper with patches of clay and ostrich-egg-sized stones. All of those parts have not been mowed. The rest was mowed to the quick when we had the chance. The guys who did the digging and strewing and changing of the pipe left some tools here along with the mess. The boss, Mr. E. came back over here quickly and quietly - trying to sneak back out with his tools, but Glenn caught him and asked when he would be cleaning up the lawn. Mr. E. was totally non-plussed by being caught, stammered some vague answer and left, leaving behind his wheel-barrow in earnest of finishing the job.
Since it's harvest time, and our neighbor keeps begging us to take more fruit, D and I walk over to her place and pick a bazillion plums. I go back later and pick a mere whajillion apples. Since it's impossible to eat them all even though we try, it's time for cooking and freezing!
I made the following recipes:
Apple/plum/apricot jam.
Mince the flesh of 40 italian plums, 20 tart, firm apples and a package of dried turkish apricots. Squeeze the juice of half a lemon, half a cup of brown sugar, half a teaspoon of chili powder, 3 oz. of red cooking wine and cook in a slow cooker all day, stirring frequently. Made 40 oz. of jam.
Plum jam.
Mince the flesh of a lot of Italian plums. Add 1/4 teaspoon of ground red pepper, the juice of half a lime, 2 oz of red cooking wine. Stew all day. made 4 cups of lovely jam.
Cinnamon, apple-lime pie.
Slice 24 apples into thin crescents. Sprinkle with the juice of half a lime, 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon, 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract, 6 oz. of brown sugar. Mix well and set into 2 graham cracker pie crusts. Cook at 425 for 20-25 minutes, remove from oven and cover with aluminum foil. Serve with vanilla ice cream.
Spaghetti sauce.
Mince 30 field fresh tomatoes. Mince 10-15 garlic buds and saute them in (canola) oil. Add the tomatoes as garlic begins to brown. Add 2 teaspoons italian seasoning, 1/2 teaspoon sea salt, 1 teaspoon ground black pepper, 1/4 cup red cooking wine, 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder, 1/2 teaspoon onion powder, 2 bay laurel leaves. Stew at a low heat for 4-5 hours. If you use fresh tomatoes like we did - it's amazing!
Spaghetti squash casserole.
Cut a spaghetti squash in half along the long axis. Remove the seeds. Place cut-side down in a baking tray or dish along with enough water to cover the bottom of the pan. bake at 425 for 25 minutes. Remove from oven and cut side up to cool. remove the flesh.
Stir fry broccoli and onion with soy sauce, black pepper and garlic powder. Stir fry mushrooms cut into thick slices with minced garlic, white wine, white pepper (or black if no white pepper available).
Put a layer of spaghetti sauce (see above) into a baking pan, add the squash in a layer over the sauce. Add the broccoli/onion mix, cover with the mushrooms. Cover once more with spaghetti sauce. Top with cheese, and cook uncovered at 425 for 25-30 minutes, until cheese is browning.
I froze half of the spaghetti squash for later, put up one pies worth of pie filling, and stocked the refrigerator with jams.
The cat I have seen in our yard actually lives with the neighbor with kids. I saw it arrange itself into it's house - then we gazed at each other across our domains, two friendly monarchs secure in our realms.
It turns out that I am going to be covered on D's health insurance, as his "other". So no ACA plan for me at this point.
We picked some more apples today, and I will be making apple butter next. I also decided to freeze plum halves since you can't even buy these in stores.
So another day spirals down into night - fires burning out in a great gush of color and burning the day to ash. A blanket of gray covers the sky, over us and under the stars.
That's it for this report. Except,
The Walking Dead and Game of Thrones both start soon!!!!!! WOOT!
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Episode 9 - Madness Takes it's Toll
Notes From the North IF Episode 9
One of our neighbors invited us to pick plums from her tree. These are Italian plums, a greenish purple with a lighter blue dust on them - shaped like a pecan and fitting comfortably in a closed hand. My uncle used to have a tree with these plums and we greedily waited for them to be ripe every year. Their flesh is light yellowy-greenish shading to the color of crystallized honey. We ate unknown numbers of them and then I chopped several of them and added fresh-squeezed lime juice, a tiny bit of chili powder and a half teaspoon of brown sugar and cooked it down on a low flame until it turned a dark red. We ate it on pancakes and will use the rest on peanut butter and "jelly" sandwiches - delicious!
Our neighbors on the other side lent us their lawnmower and weed whacker yesterday and the 3 of us took turns attacking our junglawn. It took all 3 of us - and several hours, and I am afraid that their lawnmower will never be the same. It huffed, and chuffed, groaned, belched blue smoke, stalled and sat sullenly, refusing to start again. We clustered around it, speaking in low tones as though we were discussing an accident victim bleeding at our feet. I don't think I have ever felt such compassion for an inanimate object - it's suffering was so tangible. We took a solemn vow never to use it again, and I almost looked around for a priest to give it extreme unction, but once I got underneath it and removed the 15 or so pounds of grass clippings glued to it's underside it started with a full-throated roar and ran at a high rev - surely a sign of it's continuing (albeit fragile) health. We tenderly refilled it's gas tank and returned it, trying not to blush with shame. I gave the neighbors a large bag of plums (!), which they gratefully accepted. Still, my last thoughts, tossing and turning before I fell asleep were of the lawnmower and how I had never so abused the evilest of creatures that crossed my path much less an innocent, hard-workin, helpful lawnmower. I will bear this guilt to my dying day.
Ironically, because of the repairs to our water main - the side of our lawn bordering our most scrupulous and finicky neighbor remains unmowed. We did not have the heart to subject the poor lawnmower to mowing grass laced with indestructible clods of clay and the kind of stones that made farming in New England so hellish - resulting in the countryside being webbed with stone walls everywhere you look. Those walls remain today, even though farming moved to the midwest as soon as the lands there were opened up to settlement. The neighbor on the side with the unmown lawn is the one who killed a foot-wide strip along our fence with roundup - which even killed two of our trees. The first words she spoke to us were about how much she hated the weeds which grew beyond easy casting distance of the round-up. (Dustin immediately pulled, hacked and otherwise removed the weeds over the next 3 days). But her plums are delicious. Sad about the lawn on that side though. Hee-hee, ahem.
Since I left my job to move here, there were some things I needed to attend to. One of them is a monthly, automatic payment to the Southern Poverty Law Center, for their work on education and monitoring extremist groups. (See SPLC.org for more information). Since I am not earning money right now, I called my credit union to tell them to discontinue the payments.
The polite representative there told me that I had to call SPLC and ask them to discontinue it from their side. I was confused, and said so. He repeated that I needed to call them to stop the payments.
"Let me test my understanding," I said. "I voluntarily set-up these donations. It is coming from my account and it is my money. I am not under any obligation to make these donations. But I can't stop paying without their say-so?"
"If it was a credit card you would have other options - but since it's a debit card we have to do it this way."
"So, if they decided to keep on taking the money, there's nothing I could do"?!?
"We can only stop it by blocking the card, and then you would need to get another card."
"Forgive me, but that is the most backward way of doing things I can imagine. This is MY money, I thought it was My account, not theirs, but you can't stop paying someone my money on just my say-so?"
"I'm sorry sir, that's the policy."
I almost asked why they would let me start paying someone money since they don't trust me to stop, but it's not his policy and that would just be childish.
Let me say that I reached the SPLC today and they GRACIOUSLY consented to stop taking my money. Whew! Thank goodness for that! God forbid that someone hostile to me found a way into my account and helped themselves to my funds and then refused to stop when I went begging to them. Did anyone else know that things worked this way?
This leads me to state what I call Ralph's Law of Organizations - Any organization over 40 people, (and that is the absolute maximum number), becomes chaotic and impossible to manage by rational means. A and B work at cross-purposes, common sense becomes a rarity, and any manner of foolishness becomes the order of the day. Remember my words as you move and plan and attempt to cope with the insanity that dogs our every step, attending even the most routine and simple of transactions. It may not be a comfort to you unless understanding the madness engulfing you offers some comfort simply by making it less incomprehensible. No one really MEANS to make life hellishly stupid, it just works out that way with the operation of so many sovereign egos in play.
Well that's it for now - stay tuned for the next episode of NFTNIF!
One of our neighbors invited us to pick plums from her tree. These are Italian plums, a greenish purple with a lighter blue dust on them - shaped like a pecan and fitting comfortably in a closed hand. My uncle used to have a tree with these plums and we greedily waited for them to be ripe every year. Their flesh is light yellowy-greenish shading to the color of crystallized honey. We ate unknown numbers of them and then I chopped several of them and added fresh-squeezed lime juice, a tiny bit of chili powder and a half teaspoon of brown sugar and cooked it down on a low flame until it turned a dark red. We ate it on pancakes and will use the rest on peanut butter and "jelly" sandwiches - delicious!
Our neighbors on the other side lent us their lawnmower and weed whacker yesterday and the 3 of us took turns attacking our junglawn. It took all 3 of us - and several hours, and I am afraid that their lawnmower will never be the same. It huffed, and chuffed, groaned, belched blue smoke, stalled and sat sullenly, refusing to start again. We clustered around it, speaking in low tones as though we were discussing an accident victim bleeding at our feet. I don't think I have ever felt such compassion for an inanimate object - it's suffering was so tangible. We took a solemn vow never to use it again, and I almost looked around for a priest to give it extreme unction, but once I got underneath it and removed the 15 or so pounds of grass clippings glued to it's underside it started with a full-throated roar and ran at a high rev - surely a sign of it's continuing (albeit fragile) health. We tenderly refilled it's gas tank and returned it, trying not to blush with shame. I gave the neighbors a large bag of plums (!), which they gratefully accepted. Still, my last thoughts, tossing and turning before I fell asleep were of the lawnmower and how I had never so abused the evilest of creatures that crossed my path much less an innocent, hard-workin, helpful lawnmower. I will bear this guilt to my dying day.
Ironically, because of the repairs to our water main - the side of our lawn bordering our most scrupulous and finicky neighbor remains unmowed. We did not have the heart to subject the poor lawnmower to mowing grass laced with indestructible clods of clay and the kind of stones that made farming in New England so hellish - resulting in the countryside being webbed with stone walls everywhere you look. Those walls remain today, even though farming moved to the midwest as soon as the lands there were opened up to settlement. The neighbor on the side with the unmown lawn is the one who killed a foot-wide strip along our fence with roundup - which even killed two of our trees. The first words she spoke to us were about how much she hated the weeds which grew beyond easy casting distance of the round-up. (Dustin immediately pulled, hacked and otherwise removed the weeds over the next 3 days). But her plums are delicious. Sad about the lawn on that side though. Hee-hee, ahem.
Since I left my job to move here, there were some things I needed to attend to. One of them is a monthly, automatic payment to the Southern Poverty Law Center, for their work on education and monitoring extremist groups. (See SPLC.org for more information). Since I am not earning money right now, I called my credit union to tell them to discontinue the payments.
The polite representative there told me that I had to call SPLC and ask them to discontinue it from their side. I was confused, and said so. He repeated that I needed to call them to stop the payments.
"Let me test my understanding," I said. "I voluntarily set-up these donations. It is coming from my account and it is my money. I am not under any obligation to make these donations. But I can't stop paying without their say-so?"
"If it was a credit card you would have other options - but since it's a debit card we have to do it this way."
"So, if they decided to keep on taking the money, there's nothing I could do"?!?
"We can only stop it by blocking the card, and then you would need to get another card."
"Forgive me, but that is the most backward way of doing things I can imagine. This is MY money, I thought it was My account, not theirs, but you can't stop paying someone my money on just my say-so?"
"I'm sorry sir, that's the policy."
I almost asked why they would let me start paying someone money since they don't trust me to stop, but it's not his policy and that would just be childish.
Let me say that I reached the SPLC today and they GRACIOUSLY consented to stop taking my money. Whew! Thank goodness for that! God forbid that someone hostile to me found a way into my account and helped themselves to my funds and then refused to stop when I went begging to them. Did anyone else know that things worked this way?
This leads me to state what I call Ralph's Law of Organizations - Any organization over 40 people, (and that is the absolute maximum number), becomes chaotic and impossible to manage by rational means. A and B work at cross-purposes, common sense becomes a rarity, and any manner of foolishness becomes the order of the day. Remember my words as you move and plan and attempt to cope with the insanity that dogs our every step, attending even the most routine and simple of transactions. It may not be a comfort to you unless understanding the madness engulfing you offers some comfort simply by making it less incomprehensible. No one really MEANS to make life hellishly stupid, it just works out that way with the operation of so many sovereign egos in play.
Well that's it for now - stay tuned for the next episode of NFTNIF!
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