Tag: meal

Intentions

Today is a New Moon solar eclipse–happening in Houston mid-afternoon, around 3:30, I think? It likely won’t be visible to North America or the UK, but there will surely be online videos of it from other parts of the world.

This is the second New Moon of April, the Black Moon. Every day, we’re offered celestial gifts from the heavens with the stars, planets, comets, moons (and the litter humans are leaving there, as Lynne reminded me the other day). Now and then, however, we seem to get a special treat, a reason to say thank you for the abundance of good things.


I woke up determined to make the most of the day in ways that feed my soul. It actually began with feeding my body a breakfast using a tiny portion of the leftovers from our friend Steve R’s birthday cake we had on April 28. His last birthday was in 1992, and though he was in the hospital, other friends joined us to fill the room with laughter, stories, cake, balloons, cards, and joy. He died a couple of months later, and the following year, I knew I’d rather relive the joy of his birthday than the pain of his loss, and we’ve been doing this–always with some version of chocolate, because that’s what he loved–every year since 1993. The number and variety of friends, family, and colleagues joining us through the years has been exactly what Steve would have wanted: inclusive, a reminder that love never dies, and there is always a reason to celebrate.

Lovely as that is, since I was involved, kitchen mishaps were fated. On Wednesday night, I decided to put the recipe and a box of cocoa on the kitchen counter so I’d remember when I woke up on Thursday that I intended to bake a chocolate pound cake. This is one of the few cakes I make completely from scratch, using the recipe we were given in Home Ec when I was fifteen. Now mind you, there are certainly other chocolate pound cake recipes–in fact, Lynne has one from her Aunt Lil that’s fabulous. But this one is pretty mistake-proof for me after all these years. Or so I believed.

First up, I couldn’t find the recipe. This caused me to go through my three little recipe boxes (two are mine because I outgrew the first one; one was my mother’s). No recipe, but the effort did lead me to get those things organized during my frantic second attempt to find it. For a brief moment, I considered texting Lynne–she had the same home ec class, and for all I know, she still has HER old recipe box–then I looked at the clock and knew that was a bad idea.

I finally found it clipped with my most-often-used recipes that I keep more accessible. Why chocolate pound cake was included, I have NO idea. I don’t even make one a year. But whatever. Panic managed.

The next day, I realized I didn’t have one of the ingredients I needed. I checked online for a good substitute and worked through it, but it was chaotic. Bowls, measuring spoons, and cups everywhere; flour and cocoa powdering the counters; and for some reason, my mixer was NOT blending butter and sugar into a creamy texture and kept spitting bits of butter out of the bowl. Fortunately, adding eggs taught that mixer and its mixture a lesson.

There was also vanilla extract in that part of the batter, so let’s pause to discuss challenges that come with age and a…quirky…immune system. When I took the cap off the bottle of vanilla extract, I realized it was new. It had one of those white seals on it that has a little plastic tab that you pull and the seal comes off. IN THEORY. When you have arthritis-weakened fingers, it’s not always easy. Tom wasn’t home in that moment, so I finally improvised by getting a pair of pliers to pull the tab. It STILL wouldn’t cooperate, so I stabbed it to death with a paring knife.

My kitchen looked like some cartoon character threw in a stick of dynamite. Dynamite. Knives. Explosions of flour and cocoa. BAKING IS VIOLENT.


Finally, this lovely batter was in the oven. I cleaned up the scene of the crime(s), and the timer was set, so all should have been peaceful. I went back to my manuscript and was on a flight from NYC to Atlanta when I smelled… something burning? Was a fictitious engine on fire? I don’t write those kinds of novels. Was it…THE CAKE? How was that possible? THE TIMER WAS SET. It was nowhere near time for it to be finished baking, much less burning.

I rushed to the kitchen and opened the oven door to find the batter had overflowed and was landing on the floor of the oven to burn and smoke. Fortunately, Tom was now back at his desk and working, so he hurried the dogs outside before the smoke detectors began to shriek. That shrieking triggers more dog drama than you’d see in a performance of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (which I’ve only seen small clips from, so for all I know, that’s a lousy analogy).

Out came the cake. Out came the racks dripping with batter. Got those cleaned. Trimmed the over-baked edges from the batter and off the sides of my baking dish. Got the bottom of the oven cleaned. Had the kitchen window open, the exhaust fan over the oven on high, and my kitchen fan blowing smoke away from the smoke detectors, which never went off, thank goodness. Once everything was clean, I put the cake back in the oven to finish baking and hoped for the best as I set the timer at five-minute intervals to cause myself maximum beeping annoyance.


It turned out fine according to the Houndstooth Hall humans and was served with fresh strawberries, thawed frozen strawberries in juice, whipped cream, and vanilla ice cream.

What was this post originally about?


New Moons are a good time to set intentions, so I began today with my own kind of ritual. On a happy visit to Body Mind and Soul earlier in the week (that reminds me, today is INDEPENDENT Bookstore Day, support your local booksellers, of which BM&S is one), I got a new Focus blend for the Writing Sanctuary’s Mr. Mister. An amethyst heart and an aquamarine are on this nice little incense burner, looked over by a striking amazonite point, all new and lovely finds at BM&S. I’m prepared for a good day of writing.

Apparently, today, a gnat’s intention was to drown in coffee. He succeeded, and I traded my coffee cup in for lemonade in a bottle with a gnat-defying cap.

Except Tom must have known my original intention was to imbibe coffee, so he came home from his regular Saturday volunteering gig with this surprise for me.

I’m gonna have a good day. And now that you’ve been treated to a sight of your daily cow, I hope you are, too!

Wednesday Experiment

Someone recently told me that I could just get a jarred spaghetti sauce. I think that’s a viable option for people who don’t like to cook or who don’t have time and are satisfied with a jarred sauce. But that’s not how I make my sauce. Today, I didn’t want to pair it with pasta because I was trying something new.


For this sauce: I started with chopped onions and minced garlic sautéed in a bit of olive oil. (Usually, I also sauté chopped celery and chopped bell pepper for my sauce, but I didn’t want it for this dish.) Once the onions were translucent, I browned the meat while stirring in the onions and garlic, then added a 6 oz can of tomato paste, a 15 oz can of tomato sauce, and water as needed. I stirred in desired amounts of oregano and parsley, then added a dash each of salt, pepper, sugar, and garlic powder. I let this low simmer for two to three hours.


In the afternoon, on a break from writing, dog duty, and a bit of housework, I thick sliced a peeled eggplant, dipped it in egg, then into Italian seasoned bread crumbs, and browned it on both sides.


Put the eggplant one layer deep in a casserole dish. Topped each eggplant slice with a 1/4 slice of white cheddar, then spooned meat sauce over it all.


Topped that with shredded parmesan and panko bread crumbs. Put that in the refrigerator until it was time to bake it.


Baked at 350 until eggplant was done.


Ideal with garlic bread and a salad.

Pick One, No. 7

Question 2981: Lemon pie or lemon bars? (and why…)

Definitely will go with lemon pie on this one, but it needs to be lemon ice box pie and not lemon meringue pie. I’m not a fan of meringue or the custardy texture of lemon meringue pie, and honestly, isn’t lemon ice box pie more like an ice cream, and who doesn’t like ice cream?

Today, for the first time, I made a lemon pound cake. It was kind of cool because Lynne called me just as I poured it in the dish to bake, and a few minutes after I put it in the oven, I was all, “Eep! I forgot to set the timer!” And she said, “We’ve been on the phone nine minutes.” Way to come through, Lynne. Then I told her I’d never made a glaze before, but I had the powder for a lemon glaze in a packet, so she talked me through how to make a glaze. Always make sure you have a friend who knows her or his way around a kitchen.

Fresh out of the oven.

With the glaze.

Tom and I each had a slice after dinner and liked it, so he delivered a slice to Debby and a slice to Tim. I was texting Tim later and said that next time, I’m buying a lemon so I can make some lemon zest to put on the glaze, and he said he had a lemon and had already decided to do that. I think that will add an inviting scent and taste.

So yay, something creative and new on lucky 2/2/22.

Weird Wednesday

Woke up this morning just as the power went down. We were under a tornado warning because of a front moving in. It had lots of cold air behind it. After the rain and wind stopped, it became a gorgeous day like the fall weather many of you have but we seldom do (until sometime in November, maybe).

Electricity was out until afternoon, which propelled me from the house to get a few errands taken care of. Those had me driving through the city with my sun roof and windows open, blasting music and keeping me far from the Internet. Consequently, I’m behind on a few of today’s goals. Like writing.

Here’s another snippet showing items I may be using as part of my current art project.

Thanks to the cooler weather, our dinner was of homemade chili and cornbread. Yep, don’t tell the Texans, but those are beans with the turkey meat in the chili. Texans prefer no beans in chili.

Jump!

Might as well.

Last night’s efforts paid off. I slept 11 hours, and it was bliss. I did wake up a few times, but each time, I was able to get back to sleep. Woke up at 9:30 feeling rejuvenated! Gotta try to keep this up.


Made myself a great brunch later. Burritos built with eggs, sautéed mushrooms, and a little mozzarella cheese melted in. Served with cold water and apple and peach slices.


Recently scored this amazing box set at Cactus Music. Brand new CDs of Van Halen’s self-titled debut along with Van Halen II, Women and Children First, Fair Warning, Diver Down, and 1984? COUNT ME IN.

Got all six in the CD player now in no particular order. I may have to turn down the volume a little when I start editing the second book in the Neverending Saga, but for right now, they are BLARING. Dogs are sleeping through it (must be the heat).

a little pizza my heart


It’s been sixteen months since Rhonda, Lindsey, and Pepper last arrived at our door with Starbucks (and this time, a cooler full of delicious fresh fruit and whipped cream) for a Craft Night.

What a night catching up, sharing pandemic stories, talking over things changed and cherished. IT WAS SO GOOD to be together again. Jack was a good boy with them, though of course he had to stay at Aunt Debby’s with Cousin Stewie when it was time for Tim to come over.

What was our craft? Building our own homemade pizzas!

They were so good. Tom prepped all the fixings, and they included: pizza crusts (naturally), sauce, mozzarella, cheddar, and parmesan cheeses, olive oil, pepperoni, Italian sausage, hamburger, bell pepper, onion, fresh spinach, black olives, and sliced mushrooms. Pizza shapes were determined by what baking sheets we had. (I built the salad. A little washing and chopping, and it just goes in a bowl–easy!)

Hours of conversation, plenty of dog play time, and that emotional blast of being together again. Here are more scenes from the night.


Lindsey’s and Tom’s pizzas.


Debby’s and Rhonda’s pizzas.


Lindsey, Rhonda, and Debby


Everybody’s hungry!


Tim’s pizza.


Tim, Rhonda, Debby, Lindsey


My pizza!

We agreed there must be more pizza building in our future. Mostly, we are grateful that vaccinations have enabled us to be together again. There may have been tears. There were lots of hugs.

Behind the curtain

Little Man: “Do you presume to criticize the great Oz? You ungrateful creatures.”

The little man behind the curtain was successful because everyone wanted to believe he was a wizard.

He wasn’t.

To keep myself busy other than when I write, I’ve been preparing for another big organizing project that kicked into serious gear today. Time to catalog and photograph and organize my doll collection.

I’m beginning with my boxed dolls, and today when I took out my 1992 Mattel Little Debbie Barbie, I remembered again something that struck me years ago.

The 2007 McDonald’s Happy Meal Madame Alexander Dorothy Gale doll (here with her Wizard of Oz ruby slippers) looks like she grew up to push Little Debbie products. I don’t eat a lot of sweets, but I’m partial to Nutty Bars (aka Nutty Buddy) and Swiss Cake Rolls.