Just Another Manic Sunday....

I realize that's not the title of that song, but it fit today, and today is Sunday.

I woke up this morning (reluctantly) feeling like someone had beat me. Or like I had just bicycled two days in a row for a total of 106 miles and stayed up past my bedtime watching college football. I didn't want to do anything. I just wanted to drink coffee and read the paper and play the new game Katydid got me hooked on and be a vegetable all day.

In a rather strange turn of events, however, I decided to go visit my mother.

I know, right?

I called her before I could change my mind, because then I COULDN'T change my mind. I told her I would be there around lunchtime, after she went to church. Then I went to the grocery store so I wouldn't have to do THAT chore when I got home from Mom's.

I know, right?

I sort of dreaded the trip to Mom's, and not just because she lives an hour away. Usually as soon as I get there, she wants to go somewhere to eat, and that means driving another half hour in one direction or the other, sometimes back to the very town I just went through to GET to her house. (Meeting there for lunch would make way too much sense.)

I also dreaded the trip because going to Mom's usually puts me in a funk. It's hard to describe and harder to explain, but let me say right here in this public forum that I realize my attitude is at least part of it. Like 5%. Just kidding. Mom is a difficult person to know, but I won't use this space to talk about relationships or family dynamics or childhoods or anything like that.

I made the decision to go visit, and I made a conscious decision to go with a cheerful heart and just go along with whatever she wanted to do. To my surprise, Mom did NOT want to go out to eat. She had cooked some pinto beans and a small pork roast, and she made slaw and rice and biscuits to go with them.

We had a nice lunch, then we walked to the top of "the hill," the highest point on the property that she and my brother share.

I love that place.  It is so peaceful, so serene (is that redundant?), and so quiet. We petted the horses, then we went back down the hill to sit on Mom's new front porch in her new swing. We just sat and visited, which was much nicer than getting in the car with me driving all over a town I'm not completely familiar with.

The visit was so pleasant that when I came home, I was inspired. I brought home some leftover pinto beans for Hubby (one of his favorites), then I made beef chunks, cornbread, fried okra, and squash casserole to go with them. (He won't touch the squash casserole, or any kind of casserole, but I promised mother-in-law I would make one for her and me.) I hope Hubby doesn't expect to eat like that every night. I also did a load of laundry and thought about mopping the floor, but that's as far as I got with that. (There's always tomorrow, as Scarlett O'Hara would sort of say.)

This is just a (rather long-winded) way to say that rather than putting me in a funk like it usually does, visiting with my mother inspired me to be at least a little productive when I got home.

Just don't tell her that one underlying reason for today's visit was that the Falcons weren't playing today. And please don't judge me. Baby steps.

Cooking for Two.....

Cooking for two should be a breeze. And it is, if we're eating the same thing.

Since I've been trying to eat healthy and lose (more) weight, however, it has become quite a challenge. Tonight is an example of just such a challenge.

My stove top has four burners (like I'm guessing 98% of the population, Pioneer Woman notwithstanding). In my kitchen tonight, however, I had six pans going: two different skillets for salmon patties, a small dutch oven for black beans and rice, a boiler with potatoes, a saucepan for field peas, and a small boiler for a yummy sauce (made with soy sauce, balsamic vinegar, and honey) to drizzle over broccoli. I was shuffling pans like a chef at a Japanese steakhouse slices and dices veggies. That's a terrible analogy, but it's all I've got.

In addition, I used the rice cooker/vegetable steamer to cook the broccoli and the toaster oven to toast some sesame seeds (sprinkled over the sauce on the broccoli). Two skillets were required for the salmon because Hubby likes his patties fried, and I didn't want the calories. So I used a nonstick skillet coated with cooking spray to cook mine. They didn't hold together quite as well, but they were still tasty.

Hubby won't eat rice, so the black beans and rice dish was just for me. I have enough left over to take for lunch tomorrow and Friday, and possibly some for dinner tomorrow night. I thought I made enough broccoli for lunch tomorrow too, but the sauce was so good that I wound up eating all the broccoli.

All this kitchen activity followed on the heels of a verrrrrrrrrrrry loooonnnnnnnnnggggggg walk in the park with Hubby and the dogs. It's early to bed tonight.

Right after I fold a load of laundry.

Homemade Pretzels......

I was thrilled to find my bread machine last week, and I immediately made a loaf of warm, delicious bread. Personally I think the bread is a letdown after the aroma, but that's the nature of the beast. The crust on my bread was a little too crumbly, and it was hard to slice. So I gave up and just tore off huge chunks. You're my friends so I can admit that.

The recipe book that came with the bread machine has other stuff besides bread, and I'm hoping to try several of them. When I saw the recipe for pretzels, I knew I wanted to try those.

You know the kind .... yeasty, warm, salt-covered, chewy deliciousness that you can buy at a sporting event, or heck even for a day at the mall if you're so inclined.

My pretzels weren't pretty, as you can see by the picture below. Hubby looked up a video on YouTube and tried to show me how to tie them properly, but for some reason I was insulted by his offer of help. So I just looped them any old way I wanted to.

Next time I need to roll the strips out smaller and, yes, perhaps I need to practice tying some so they don't look like globs of pretzel dough. I used sea salt on them, which was perfect, but for my personal taste I need to use more next time.

Hubby doesn't like them, so I had all the pretzels to myself. I would like to pretend that this was the only pan of them and that I exercised some restraint. Both would be a lie, however. I ate so many pretzels that I skipped dinner. Or perhaps that WAS dinner. Wonder why I'm so thirsty now?

Now I need to find a recipe for some of that delicious, gooey cheese they serve with these bad boys.

(I haven't given up on my weight loss attempt. I just took a little tiny break from it today. Back on track after tomorrow!)

Comfort Food.....and Drink......

I came home from a very short bike ride today quite chilled. It was a very short ride, and I'm not going to apologize for the fact that I was chilled to the bone in temperatures that were in the 40's. I'm a girl from the South, and I don't do cold. Cold, by the way, is anything below 60 degrees. It was supposed to get somewhere NEAR that today, but by that time football was well under way. I am still patting myself on the back for venturing out on the bike at all, especially considering I've already met my November cycling goal. I rode 13.5 miles and made it in the door just in time for the 1:00 PM kickoff of the Atlanta Falcons game.

I was looking forward to some hot apple cider (instant, so shoot me) when I got home. As I started to boil the water, though, I saw an ingredient for a drink that I made a couple of times last winter when there was snow on the ground: butterscotch Schnapps. I got the recipe off a box of something (maybe the cider), and it also called for whipped cream and a drizzle of caramel syrup on top. Because I'm trying to be "good" and because I didn't have any whipped cream, I opted for just the butterscotch Schnapps.

Heaven in a mug. Not enough to get tipsy or anything (even after two mugs), but a delightful mid-afternoon treat. Maybe I can find a way to carry that concoction in my water bottles on my bike. Then a chilly bike ride will be a little more tolerable.

For dinner I made potato soup. The recipe was actually called "Zippy Potato Soup." I found it a little bland, even after I added cheese that the recipe did not call for. Still, it was warm and filling, and I had enough left over to freeze for later AND take some for tomorrow's lunch.

So there. I DO cook sometimes. From a real cookbook and everything. For my 50 things to do next year list, I'm going to include trying some new recipes. Probably not 50 new ones, but anything will be a start.

The Spice of Life.....

That's a dumb title, but it's all I've got tonight.

I write and joke all the time about the fact that I don't cook. That's an exaggeration to begin with, because I DO cook. I generally cook five nights a week, Sunday through Thursday. It's just that if I grill hamburgers (yeah, Mr. Perfect won't even do THAT because it looks too much like cooking) and throw some potato chips on a plate, I don't consider that real cooking.

I CAN cook, and most of the time I can manage to throw together a decent meal. I try to mix things up, which is difficult when I'm cooking for a diabetic who would prefer to eat nothing but steak and potatoes. Take tonight for example. Last week we had meatloaf and mashed potatoes. (Unlike many men, Hubby actually LIKES meatloaf.) Because I didn't want to get in a rut of preparing the same old thing, tonight we had meatballs and potato packets. The meatballs were made with the exact same ingredients as the meatloaf, just rolled into balls instead of a loaf. The potato packets are stolen from Pioneer Woman and I think they're yummy.

I'm also amazed at people who say they enjoy cooking. That it relaxes them. They do it as a hobby. Excuse me?

One thing that is lacking in my cooking (other than the want to) is the knowledge of how to use spices. I rely on recipes a lot of the time just because I am clueless when it comes to spices. How do people like Pioneer Woman learn what spices go together and what they go WITH? How do you know how much? Some recipes call for 1/2 teaspoon of something and 1/4 teaspoon of another. One-fourth of a teaspoon? Seriously?

When I moved in with Hubby, he had the chore of emptying out my kitchen cabinets. Even though I had only lived there for about 5 months and it was a tiny place with a tiny kitchen, he was overwhelmed with how many cans (boxes? tins? bottles? packages?) of spices I had. Poor guy. He had been eating out of cans, and he probably thought SURELY someone with that many spices had some rudimentary knowledge of how to use them?

I guess I could take a cooking class to learn more about spices. But I might accidentally learn some other stuff about cooking.

******

On a somewhat related note, I had my walk in the park spiced up just a little more than I wanted this afternoon. I went alone because Hubby and Gus were tuckered out from painting all day. I had my MP3 player and was ready for the long route, since going home just meant I had to cook dinner. I turned right at the end of the bridge for the long route and strode purposefully toward a huge black snake. I stopped, he remained still, I stared, he stared, then I turned around and let him have that part of the path. Fifty minutes was long enough to walk after all. What a time NOT to have my iPhone with me.......

Deviled Eggs......

You know how some foods just come to be associated with certain events and/or holidays, and that's the only time we eat them?

I'm not really talking about turkey and dressing, but they fall into that category. Why is it that we only eat those at Thanksgiving? And Christmas? How about cranberry sauce? It's available all year, so why don't we occasionally throw it on the table just because? And I'm talking about the canned kind here, the kind WITHOUT the berries. I don't like it if you can't see the ridges from the can around the edges. None of that real stuff for me, Pioneer Woman be damned.

Deviled eggs and potato salad are also on that list. I never used to make either one of those unless it was for a potluck dinner, family reunion, or some other large gathering. I didn't know you COULD make just a few deviled eggs. Then one night I was boiling eggs for tuna salad, and I threw a couple extra in the pot to make deviled eggs.

What a revelation. You can whip up just two or three deviled eggs in a lot less time than it takes to prepare a dozen or two. And they make an excellent side dish, particularly if you're trying to cover up the fact that you're serving tuna salad and crackers and calling it A MEAL.

Cooking.....

I frequently say that I don't cook, and it's not one of my hobbies. But the truth is that I DO cook, I just don't consider myself a gourmet. I'll never be a Pioneer Woman, for example, and it would be a waste anyway, considering Hubby won't eat:

• Rice
• Pasta
• Seafood
• Anything green (except salad, and occasionally green beans)
• Vegetables, unless they are fried (squash, zucchini, etc.)

He likes steak. And potatoes.

I'm betting he would challenge even the Pioneer Woman.

Although I'm sure she could cure him, because there ISN'T ONE DAMN THING SHE CAN'T DO.

If I have a specialty, I would have to say it's cornbread. I found a recipe a few years ago that I like and that worked, and I've stuck with it. I make it in an iron skillet, which I think is one of the keys.

I say it's my specialty because it's one of the things that Hubby has commented on. He even gave me the ultimate compliment once, saying to me IN FRONT OF HIS MOTHER, "You need to teach Mama how to make decent cornbread." Being the sweet lady she is, she didn't take offense and hate my guts, which is probably how I would have reacted if I had a daughter-in-law. Good thing THAT will never happen.

When I first started making this cornbread, I had the recipe memorized in short order, only I couldn't remember how many eggs. One or two. I could remember the one-half cup of flour, one-and-a-half cups of cornmeal, one-and-a-half cups of buttermilk (another secret to my cornbread), and one-fourth cup melted shortening, but I could never remember one egg or two. I had to go to the cookbook every single time.

One time I was grumbling about the fact that I couldn't remember the number of eggs in the cornbread recipe as I stomped across the living room to the bookshelf. Back then Hubby would actually ask what I was grumbling about. When I told him what I was looking for and that I had discovered upon looking up the recipe for the nine hundredth time that cornbread requires TWO eggs, he said to me, "Just like a woman's breasts."

Just like a man. But you know what? I've never, ever forgotten again the number of eggs required. Why was that little statement all it took, and the nine hundred trips to the bookshelf and looking up the recipe (because I also couldn't be expected to remember the page it was on, could I?) didn't work?

I enjoy making cornbread, because we never eat it all. The next morning I usually have a breakfast of buttermilk and cornbread. I got that from my father. And precious little else, I might add. Except for the worst whipping I ever got after church one Sunday and a scar right below my right eye. But that's blog fodder for another day.

I can't wait for breakfast.

The Lost Art of Making Do......

One of the things I have always admired about my mother is her ability to make do. She had to make do in a number of ways, but I'm specifically talking about the ability to feed the multitudes with just 5 fishes and 2 loaves.

Forgive me, Lord.

We didn't have a lot when we were growing up. Mom was a single parent from the time I can remember, and she had to make ends meet with a meager salary and not much child support. (Six dollars per week per child. Yes, I'm serious. After I was grown, my father routinely sent me a check for $24 each month. That came to a screeching halt the minute I turned 18.)

Mom could always put a meal together, though, no matter how many people showed up. She could whip up a pan of biscuits (the best in the world, with all due respect to my mother-in-law, who runs a close second) on a moment's notice. When she was first married, she made biscuits THREE TIMES A DAY for my undeserving father. And she cooked on a wood-burning stove. I wasn't there, so I can't speak to the veracity of that statement, but she has no reason to make it up.

I've seen the time when unexpected guests would arrive, and Mom would have no trouble accumulating enough leftovers and pantry staples to throw together a delicious meal. I'm guessing that right this minute, if I showed up with all of my siblings at her retirement community, she would find a way to feed us all. And she doesn't even have a real kitchen or a stove. Sure the dining room is right down the hall, but she could manage to feed us even without it.

I'm an okay cook, although I don't particularly enjoy the art. I like EATING what I prepare, but it's a crap shoot as to how things are going to turn out.

I might be more adventurous in the culinary department if Hubby were more diverse in his food tastes. He doesn't eat any kind of pasta, no rice, no seafood. He doesn't particularly care for casseroles, and most vegetables are yucky to him.

That leaves us with: steak. And potatoes. And pinto beans. Occasionally green beans, though he swears the Army served them at every meal including breakfast, and he doesn't really care for them either. On the positive side, he's just as happy with a sandwich and some potato salad for dinner, just as long as he has something to fill his belly.

And although he's the picky one, anytime I ask him what he wants for dinner, the response is more often than not, "It don't matter. Whatever you want." Poor grammar aside, that answer drives me crazy. If it doesn't matter, then just pick something. If we don't have that, I'll tell you. On the occasions when I've made something that Hubby declares divorce-worthy (I was going to say on the "few" occasions, but it's really more than that), I have told him, "Okay, but I'm going to call this dish 'It Don't Matter.' The next time you give me that response to what you want for dinner, this is what you'll get." I never have had the nerve to follow through with it, though. Cooking is way too much trouble to make something yucky on purpose.

I shop for groceries once a week, and I generally try to plan meals for the coming week. We usually eat out on Fridays and Saturdays, so it's not like I have to cook every single day.

If unexpected guests show up at mealtime, however, I'm screwed. Or rather, they are screwed. I don't buy in quantities that would serve more than the two of us, at least not usually. I don't keep a ton of extras on hand, because unless they are canned goods, they will go bad.

So if you show up at my house for a meal, don't expect hot buttered biscuits, gravy, country fried steak, three or four vegetables, and sweet tea.

I'm more likely to call for a pizza to be delivered.

Past My Bedtime and Rooting for the Underdog.....

Hubby is out of town on a golf trip, and I'm enjoying some quality "me" time. Usually I'm in bed by 8:00, lights out by 8:30 (9:00 if I'm really into a good book). Tonight I watched "Dancing with the Stars" from Monday night that I had recorded. I'd never seen the show, and we only recently got a DVR. Love the dancing, but not sure what all the hype is about.

At 9:00, when it was already past my bedtime, I STARTED cooking for our pot luck lunch at school tomorrow. I made some cheese muffins (thanks to Pioneeer Woman) and then I got ambitious and made some baby quiches. I glanced over the recipe quickly, since I'd made it a hundred times about a hundred years ago. I only saw "bake 30 minutes" and thought to myself, "Heck, 30 more minutes isn't much." I didn't take into consideration the prep time, nor did I notice that you have to preheat the oven all the way to 425 degrees AND there's a 15-minute cook time BEFORE the 30 minutes. Oh well....45 more minutes isn't much either. Not when Oregon State is making #1 USC look like a bunch of punks (14-0 so far in the 2nd quarter). I'm loving it. (My apologies to The Pioneer Woman, a USC alum.)

It's not JUST that USC is ranked #1 and always are and my beloved Bulldogs are currently ranked #3 and have a huge showdown in our own backyard this Saturday. It must have something to do with that awful USC music.......

This may be the ONLY post I ever write with a label of "cooking."

Susie Homemaker I'm not.....

I don't claim to be a gourmet chef, or really even a decent cook. We get by, we eat mostly healthy stuff (hubby is diabetic), but preparing food has never been one of my favorite activities. Beer and pizza is a meal that includes all of the major food groups, if you have chocolate-covered ice cream bars for dessert. (We buy the no-sugar-added kind.) I can read a recipe and follow it fairly well, but I get frustrated if I don't have all of the ingredients on hand. And I lament the amount of time spent in the kitchen preparing most meals. Don't even get me started on the cleaning up part.

Tonight, however, I prepared chicken salad, the recipe for which I got from my cousin. She worked for a caterer at one time, and they couldn't keep this chicken salad on hand. It's very basic, and it would be just like any other chicken salad in the world, except for two "surprise" ingredients. A word of warning: I won't be listing the amounts of ingredients, because I rarely use them when I'm cooking.

When I first started making this, I would cook a whole chicken, wait for it to cool, pick the meat off the bone, cut it up carefully. Screw that crap. (Pardon my language.) Now I use two large cans of white meat chicken.

Then I add some quantity of chopped walnuts. I didn't remember to take pictures until after I had dumped the walnuts on top of the chicken. Sigh.






Next I cut green seedless grapes in halves. I don't count them or measure. I just know when it looks right. When I'm feeling really gourmet I'll cut them into quarters.










First "surprise" ingredient....flaked, sweetened coconut.












Second "surprise" ingredient.....sour cream. I used the lite kind tonight, just because that's what I had.












Mayonnaise, of course. Actually, I prefer Miracle Whip, but hubby doesn't like it because he says it's too sweet. Isn't that sort of like being too pretty or too rich?











Finished product. Sometimes I'll add celery, but we rarely have that on hand. Neither one of us is crazy about it, and I refuse to buy an entire package of celery just to use one or two stalks and have the rest of it look like cooked spaghetti in a couple of weeks.

This is one of those rare dishes that hubby will actually request from time to time. (Most of his requests involve me NOT making something again.) We eat this with crackers, or if I'm feeling really gourmet or want to impress someone, I'll serve it with store-bought croissants.

I have also heard of a variation of this recipe with almonds instead of walnuts and mandarin oranges instead of grapes. I have also made it with red seedless grapes when I didn't have the green ones in the fridge.

That's it for tonight. I'm exhausted from the "cooking" and "washing up." We ate off paper plates.