Just talked to mom, who's still in the hospital but who sounds pretty good. Now she has pain in her finger, on the arm where they put in a new graft (and, as noted, she's not one to complain about pain), so she's a little worried about possible nerve damage, and the cough persists, but the fever appears to have broken. She wants to go home, and maybe will get to do so today. (And here how about a shout-out to the health insurance my parents have--courtesy of my dad's union, thankyouverymuch--such that they don't have to worry about paying for any of this shit. I wish everyone had the coverage my parents have.)
Other chores that need doing include cleaning my boots (I borrowed some saddle soap and mink oil from Friend) and repotting some plants, plus cleaning the ceiling fan and replacing the burned-out bulb . . . and then there are the closets full of crap through which I must sort at some point. Unless I decide not to move in May when the lease is up, of course, in which case I can ignore the crap awhile longer. I wish I knew why I'm already fibrillating about this.
I say yes, absolutely, I'm tired of living in a place that leaks, that has an old, cold, bathroom, that doesn't get as much sunlight as I would like (though it does get some), and so on. I rummage around online and find apartments that look to be pretty fabulous, for $100-$300/month more than I'm paying now (and my rent will almost certainly go up, as it did not this past year), and I start to fantasize. Then I think about the hassle of moving (cue Louden Wainwright), going through crap and packing it up, and unpacking it, and it all seems like too much effort.
Anyway. I'm going to work out and shower and make my way over to Friend's house (venison tenderloin for dinner tonight!), so those chores will have to wait a few more days.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Home and Not Home
I was sitting in D.C. yesterday, waiting for the train home, when SIL called: mom is in the hospital. Again. She was running a fever at dialysis, so they took her to the hospital. They did some blood cultures (the results of which will take 48 hours), chest x-ray (because she had a persistent cough), and . . . what? The vascular doc thinks it's a bacterial infection in the chest port, aggravated by dialysis yesterday; they gave her some IV antibiotics, but didn't release her. Which turned out to be just as well, because she apparently bled a little from the chest port, too, about which the vascular doc is not concerned.
They also gave her something (I don't know what) for the cough, which made it go away over night, though I guess it's back--but she got some sleep, which is probably one of the things she needs most. In any case, she's still there; according to my dad, doing okay, and according to my brother, her "I'm-fine-don't-fuss" self. (I didn't call her, because I didn't want to wake her if she was sleeping.) It occurred to me that she may have a cold, on top of the port leak and maybe even a bacterial infection on top of that. She has so many things going on, it's easy to forget that she was around 20-30 people on Thanksgiving and may well have just caught a cold, especially given her somewhat weakened condition. In any case, let's hope that she starts to get better, without leaking from anywhere, coughing, or developing a new or worse infection.
I got home expeditiously this morning; I was in the door before 10:00 am. As I walked in, I was struck by just what a pit this place had become. I have a high tolerance for dust and clutter, in general; I manage to arrange things more or less in piles, so basic cleanup can occur quickly when I'm motivated, but there were just too many piles of things I had left around. Plus, laundry. So I started with that, and then steadily picked away at the rest of it through the day, until it's actually in pretty good shape right now. I need to vacuum the bedroom and clean the bathroom (and maybe seal the window in the shower), and it will be nearly clean. By my standards, anyway, which admittedly are a little on the generous side. I even managed to work out a little, while watching the last bit of "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," which was much better than I expected it to be.
Except to do the laundry, I didn't leave the apartment today. I talked to dad and bro briefly, and a friend at great length (it's been three or four days since we spoke, so there were many bits up on which we had to catch), but mostly I've been glad to be in my own home. I love my family a great deal, and I definitely enjoyed the baking and cooking this week--it's nice to be able to bake with abandon, knowing that someone who actually appreciates the food is going to eat it. My dad got his mince pie, for the first time in 10 years or more, and I got to try some new things and invent a couple of things, so yay.
Mostly, though, I'd like my mom to hang around for awhile longer.
I don't seem to have much else tonight. I intended to take a shower but never got around to it, and now it's really time to sleep. I'm just pleased that I got so many chores accomplished today, because that means I can lounge with abandon tomorrow.
They also gave her something (I don't know what) for the cough, which made it go away over night, though I guess it's back--but she got some sleep, which is probably one of the things she needs most. In any case, she's still there; according to my dad, doing okay, and according to my brother, her "I'm-fine-don't-fuss" self. (I didn't call her, because I didn't want to wake her if she was sleeping.) It occurred to me that she may have a cold, on top of the port leak and maybe even a bacterial infection on top of that. She has so many things going on, it's easy to forget that she was around 20-30 people on Thanksgiving and may well have just caught a cold, especially given her somewhat weakened condition. In any case, let's hope that she starts to get better, without leaking from anywhere, coughing, or developing a new or worse infection.
I got home expeditiously this morning; I was in the door before 10:00 am. As I walked in, I was struck by just what a pit this place had become. I have a high tolerance for dust and clutter, in general; I manage to arrange things more or less in piles, so basic cleanup can occur quickly when I'm motivated, but there were just too many piles of things I had left around. Plus, laundry. So I started with that, and then steadily picked away at the rest of it through the day, until it's actually in pretty good shape right now. I need to vacuum the bedroom and clean the bathroom (and maybe seal the window in the shower), and it will be nearly clean. By my standards, anyway, which admittedly are a little on the generous side. I even managed to work out a little, while watching the last bit of "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," which was much better than I expected it to be.
Except to do the laundry, I didn't leave the apartment today. I talked to dad and bro briefly, and a friend at great length (it's been three or four days since we spoke, so there were many bits up on which we had to catch), but mostly I've been glad to be in my own home. I love my family a great deal, and I definitely enjoyed the baking and cooking this week--it's nice to be able to bake with abandon, knowing that someone who actually appreciates the food is going to eat it. My dad got his mince pie, for the first time in 10 years or more, and I got to try some new things and invent a couple of things, so yay.
Mostly, though, I'd like my mom to hang around for awhile longer.
I don't seem to have much else tonight. I intended to take a shower but never got around to it, and now it's really time to sleep. I'm just pleased that I got so many chores accomplished today, because that means I can lounge with abandon tomorrow.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Some Pie with Those Pretzels?
Mom's home.
She walked in and said no, she's not hungry, and then started nibbling the bits sitting around. She eventually ate a fair amount (for her), so yay. She's sore in a number of places--from the insertion of the chest port, from the tourniquet, from the new graft--and tired and such, but we all managed to laugh about a number of things. My brother came over after work, around 3:00, and mom and dad didn't show until 5, so we hung for awhile. We actually get along just fine in situations like that. My brother is extremely funny--really, seriously funny--and he's smart, so he is always entertaining.
What were we laughing about? The fact that my mother has things stored in spots that are less than obvious. Finding things in her kitchen is a serious adventure in hide and seek, and then there are the things that aren't actually stored in the damn kitchen. You may remember that I made a batch of lemon/aniseseed/cranberry/pistachio biscotti the other day that didn't come out as nicely as I would have liked (so I eventually made a second batch, which came out much better). When I'd finished them, she put them in a container and spirited them away. I kept thinking I would run across them--especially given the hide and seek for various ingredients and implements--but I didn't. So we're all sitting around, and I say, where's the two-cup pyrex measure? Because I know I saw one, but I looked everywhere! Oh, it's in the drawer under the stove. (Of course!) Not with the other measures, not with glass, or the other cooking or baking implements; oh no. It's under the stove. (I never think to look there, because I've never had a drawer like that.)
So then my mom asks, did I find the other biscotti? No, of course not--where are they? Oh--they're in the closet in the bathroom. (My parents' bathroom backs up to the garage or the outside, I forget which, so it's cool.) Well, yes, because everyone stores their biscotti in the damn bathroom closet. At this point, we're all laughing, of course, so it was great fun.
What did I make today?
Three pies (cherry with a lattice top for the older nephew; mince for my dad; and shoofly pie for my brother). Two batches of pie crust scraps rolled out with cinnamon and sugar. A batch of pastry cream for the cream puffs. A batch of pumpkin pastry cream (I made that one up as I went along, and it ROCKS THE HOUSE). (No, really, it is fucking amazing.) A batch of soft pretzels (two are gone, two went home with bro for my nephews, two are in the freezer, and the other three were actually pretzel rolls, and they're in the freezer, too). An egg for mom and an omelet for me (dad made his own omelet). Tomorrow will include the barley (with caramelized onions and dried cranberries), cream puffs, an apple cake (I keep forgetting about that one), creamed cauliflower, and, if I get ambitious and have time, caramel sauce and/or a roasted butternut squash and/or some meringues with all the damned egg whites.
Yes, I know that sounds like a lot of work, but it's actually a tremendous amount of fun. I'm making all kinds of fun stuff, for people I love. I can make a cup of tea and seat near the pellet stove when I want a break. I have my recipes, mostly. My dad keeps coming up with more stories I didn't know. There's good beer in the fridge (Rogue and Flying Dog). My mom didn't die yesterday. We all know how to amuse each other. There are other kinds of pleasures in life, some of which I also enjoy tremendously, but these are really among the best.
She walked in and said no, she's not hungry, and then started nibbling the bits sitting around. She eventually ate a fair amount (for her), so yay. She's sore in a number of places--from the insertion of the chest port, from the tourniquet, from the new graft--and tired and such, but we all managed to laugh about a number of things. My brother came over after work, around 3:00, and mom and dad didn't show until 5, so we hung for awhile. We actually get along just fine in situations like that. My brother is extremely funny--really, seriously funny--and he's smart, so he is always entertaining.
What were we laughing about? The fact that my mother has things stored in spots that are less than obvious. Finding things in her kitchen is a serious adventure in hide and seek, and then there are the things that aren't actually stored in the damn kitchen. You may remember that I made a batch of lemon/aniseseed/cranberry/pistachio biscotti the other day that didn't come out as nicely as I would have liked (so I eventually made a second batch, which came out much better). When I'd finished them, she put them in a container and spirited them away. I kept thinking I would run across them--especially given the hide and seek for various ingredients and implements--but I didn't. So we're all sitting around, and I say, where's the two-cup pyrex measure? Because I know I saw one, but I looked everywhere! Oh, it's in the drawer under the stove. (Of course!) Not with the other measures, not with glass, or the other cooking or baking implements; oh no. It's under the stove. (I never think to look there, because I've never had a drawer like that.)
So then my mom asks, did I find the other biscotti? No, of course not--where are they? Oh--they're in the closet in the bathroom. (My parents' bathroom backs up to the garage or the outside, I forget which, so it's cool.) Well, yes, because everyone stores their biscotti in the damn bathroom closet. At this point, we're all laughing, of course, so it was great fun.
What did I make today?
Three pies (cherry with a lattice top for the older nephew; mince for my dad; and shoofly pie for my brother). Two batches of pie crust scraps rolled out with cinnamon and sugar. A batch of pastry cream for the cream puffs. A batch of pumpkin pastry cream (I made that one up as I went along, and it ROCKS THE HOUSE). (No, really, it is fucking amazing.) A batch of soft pretzels (two are gone, two went home with bro for my nephews, two are in the freezer, and the other three were actually pretzel rolls, and they're in the freezer, too). An egg for mom and an omelet for me (dad made his own omelet). Tomorrow will include the barley (with caramelized onions and dried cranberries), cream puffs, an apple cake (I keep forgetting about that one), creamed cauliflower, and, if I get ambitious and have time, caramel sauce and/or a roasted butternut squash and/or some meringues with all the damned egg whites.
Yes, I know that sounds like a lot of work, but it's actually a tremendous amount of fun. I'm making all kinds of fun stuff, for people I love. I can make a cup of tea and seat near the pellet stove when I want a break. I have my recipes, mostly. My dad keeps coming up with more stories I didn't know. There's good beer in the fridge (Rogue and Flying Dog). My mom didn't die yesterday. We all know how to amuse each other. There are other kinds of pleasures in life, some of which I also enjoy tremendously, but these are really among the best.
No, Really, DO NOT Let It Bleed!
Any day where your mom almost dies is going to be a little iffy, though I will say that it most likely is much better than a day when your mom actually dies. Dad and I went up to the hospital yesterday afternoon, and ended up waiting around until mom got back from dialysis. She wasn't in great shape--she was tired, weak, and freaked out. Apparently, before she could say "don't touch that," some resident ripped off the bandage covering the leaky spot and she started to spurt blood all over the room, which terrified her (sounds like the right reaction to me). They ended up having to put a tourniquet on her arm to keep her from bleeding out (which she said was excruciatingly painful--and she's not a complainer--and that resulted in petechiae on that arm), and they got her into surgery right away. So, basically, they got the new graft in a day early, but with a lot of associated trauma. She called this morning and sounded MUCH better--she almost certainly slept last night, and maybe ate something. They're taking her into dialysis this morning, and she'll come home this afternoon, so that's good.
The really annoying thing is that her regular vascular guy was out of town last week, so when she went to the emergency room, as instructed, last Friday, she sat around for four hours and no one ended up doing anything about it. And, meanwhile, she and my dad, both of whom are immune-system-compromised, were sitting around sick people for four hours, which pissed them off mightily. Most of the people who looked at it said it wasn't anything to worry about (yeah, except for the ALMOST DYING part), or didn't have anything helpful to say about it, more most likely, had no clue at what they were looking. Guess everyone got a few lessons.
I didn't do a lot of baking yesterday (and my dad and I got cheese steaks for dinner last night, from a local place that has been in business since 1938, which, despite my hinkiness about commercial beef production, tasted incredible). Today, however, is going to be a baking production line. The mince pie and the cherry pie are in the oven, along with some cinnamon-sugar pie-crust scraps. When that's done, I'm going to make the pastry cream, then I'm going to do the pretzels. (I may mix the pretzel dough before the pastry cream, though, now that I think about it, so the dough can rise.) I think I'll do the cauliflower and the barley tomorrow. I may do the cream puffs today, too, depending on my ambition and the timing.
The really annoying thing is that her regular vascular guy was out of town last week, so when she went to the emergency room, as instructed, last Friday, she sat around for four hours and no one ended up doing anything about it. And, meanwhile, she and my dad, both of whom are immune-system-compromised, were sitting around sick people for four hours, which pissed them off mightily. Most of the people who looked at it said it wasn't anything to worry about (yeah, except for the ALMOST DYING part), or didn't have anything helpful to say about it, more most likely, had no clue at what they were looking. Guess everyone got a few lessons.
I didn't do a lot of baking yesterday (and my dad and I got cheese steaks for dinner last night, from a local place that has been in business since 1938, which, despite my hinkiness about commercial beef production, tasted incredible). Today, however, is going to be a baking production line. The mince pie and the cherry pie are in the oven, along with some cinnamon-sugar pie-crust scraps. When that's done, I'm going to make the pastry cream, then I'm going to do the pretzels. (I may mix the pretzel dough before the pastry cream, though, now that I think about it, so the dough can rise.) I think I'll do the cauliflower and the barley tomorrow. I may do the cream puffs today, too, depending on my ambition and the timing.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
(Don't) Let It Bleed
Dad and I went up to see mom last night, and she was doing fine. The phone rang at 6:00 this morning, though--a nurse was calling to let us know that they tried to change the bandage over her leaky graft and it started bleeding, and they couldn't get it to stop, so they were taking her into surgery this morning. She was apparently awake and conscious and so on, so no one is freaking out completely--and we haven't been able to reach anyone, so we're assuming they actually got her in to surgery. Dad will go up there in a little while, most likely. Basically, everyone's just glad that she was in the hospital when the leaking started (remember that "could bleed out" thing?).
I'm going to be in charge of the creamed cauliflower (something my mom makes every year and that I also happen to love). She likes to make it with American cheese. I asked her last night if I could make it with cheddar instead; no, she likes American. (I was also informed that I can't steam the cauliflower ahead of time, I need to make it fresh, on Thursday. This is all said with a smile; I am completely not wrapped around the axle about this.) So a little later we're discussing her bleeding arm, and she says she's going to keep an eye on it; I point out that she's going to be sleeping. She says, well, she might kick the bucket then. And I say, in that case, I'll make the creamed cauliflower with cheddar cheese. We're nothing if not a little flippant.
When dad and I got home, I made some dinner (some stuffed shells that mom had in the freezer) and we sat at the kitchen table drinking wine and talking. I showed my dad the bakery cam, which got him talking about when he worked in a bakery (when he was 13); later he was talking about seeing various races up at Pocono, when Indy and other types of fast cars used to race there, and that my one uncle used to race a stock car, and seeing various types of race cars over the years (I had no idea dad's interest and experience were so extensive). My dad hasn't talked that much in a million years--partly it's because he has a hard time talking on the phone (he has hearing aids in both ears, and has to take one out to even talk on the phone), so I don't really get to talk to him when I call on weekends. It was great.
This morning, I made my pie crust dough and the preferment for the soft pretzels. Meanwhile, dad just left to go to the hospital and see if he can find out what's happening with mom. I'm hanging here, waiting for the cleaning people (my mom finally broke down and hired some help, given that neither she nor my dad can do anything more than picking stuff up and doing the laundry). I'm going to jump in the shower while he's on the way there; maybe more updates here later.
I'm going to be in charge of the creamed cauliflower (something my mom makes every year and that I also happen to love). She likes to make it with American cheese. I asked her last night if I could make it with cheddar instead; no, she likes American. (I was also informed that I can't steam the cauliflower ahead of time, I need to make it fresh, on Thursday. This is all said with a smile; I am completely not wrapped around the axle about this.) So a little later we're discussing her bleeding arm, and she says she's going to keep an eye on it; I point out that she's going to be sleeping. She says, well, she might kick the bucket then. And I say, in that case, I'll make the creamed cauliflower with cheddar cheese. We're nothing if not a little flippant.
When dad and I got home, I made some dinner (some stuffed shells that mom had in the freezer) and we sat at the kitchen table drinking wine and talking. I showed my dad the bakery cam, which got him talking about when he worked in a bakery (when he was 13); later he was talking about seeing various races up at Pocono, when Indy and other types of fast cars used to race there, and that my one uncle used to race a stock car, and seeing various types of race cars over the years (I had no idea dad's interest and experience were so extensive). My dad hasn't talked that much in a million years--partly it's because he has a hard time talking on the phone (he has hearing aids in both ears, and has to take one out to even talk on the phone), so I don't really get to talk to him when I call on weekends. It was great.
This morning, I made my pie crust dough and the preferment for the soft pretzels. Meanwhile, dad just left to go to the hospital and see if he can find out what's happening with mom. I'm hanging here, waiting for the cleaning people (my mom finally broke down and hired some help, given that neither she nor my dad can do anything more than picking stuff up and doing the laundry). I'm going to jump in the shower while he's on the way there; maybe more updates here later.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Bake Me to the Moon
Dad's napping in the sunroom, Mom is in the hospital, waiting for a port in her chest and for dialysis for the day (they'll fix the new graft Wednesday morning, I think, which hopefully means she'll be home that day), and I have a batch of chocolate hazelnut cranberry orange biscotti in the oven. I already made a batch of chocolate hazelnut cookies, and later today I'm going to make a second batch of the lemon anise cranberry pistachio biscotti and probably the pie crusts. Dad's mincemeat is in the fridge, along with an extra apple chopped into it (what my maternal grandmother used to do, apparently, back when she saw to it that my dad got a mince pie; my mom doesn't like them so therefore doesn't make them). Older nephew would like a cherry pie, too, so I'll get some cherries on the next trip to the store and see to it that he gets one; if I'm already making pie crust, doubling it and making a second pie isn't exactly a chore. And I'll use the apples in the fridge for a version of the upside down apple cake I've been making; I found another recipe last week that isn't gingerbread, i.e., doesn't have molasses, i.e., my mom can eat it (molasses is too high in something).
Mom sounds okay; they took her to the hospital this morning, because the dialysis people didn't want to take a chance with her graft looking like it might pop. Not exactly what anyone had in mind for the few days before a holiday, but better this way than her bleeding out all over the turkey. And, really, better that it happen when I'm here to take care of a few chores for her. She kind of fusses about that--she doesn't want me doing everything--but of course I'm happy to do it. What else am I going to do? I can only read for so long, and I'd just as soon be useful, all things considered.
I have to say that I enjoy having the experience and the training for all of the baking; I used a couple of recipes without (m)any changes, but I'm making several things up on the fly. Which, to be honest, I used to do before I went to pastry school, but now I have a slightly better idea what I'm doing. The thing is, not surprisingly, if you use good ingredients, it's hard to end up with a truly inedible product. Something might maybe have needed a little somethin' somethin', but, really, if it has chocolate and hazelnuts and butter and sugar and more chocolate in it, how bad will it be? I would have preferred cherries for the biscotti in the oven now, but hey, mom had cranberries, so I used cranberries; how much is it likely to suck?
Oh, wait; probably not at all.
Mom's definitely slowing down, though; her friend who lives next door took me walking with her this morning (so I could get at least a little exercise), and she said what I've also noticed, that my mom just doesn't have much appetite. There's a lot she can't eat, but she's just not that hungry a lot of the time. The thing that kind of concerns me is that she's also too tired to get any exercise. I try to convince her to walk on her non-dialysis days, even for 15 minutes (on the treadmill), but she has a hard time doing that, even. She does what she can, but the system is definitely under stress--and let's not forget that this is the person who had seven of her vertebrae fused about 8 years ago, because her spine was crumbling such that she couldn't stand or walk for more than 5 minutes at a time.
Ah, well. I'm just glad I decided to visit for this holiday. I can't do all that much except bake and cook, but at least that's something, and my parents like having me around, so there's that. And, really, the baking helps, too, because my mom likes to bring a cake or a bread or cookies or whatever to various little events; this way she'll have some things stashed. I guess it's kind of the stone soup approach to life; I can't offer much, but the baking I can offer will help a little, and someone else will pick up the slack in some other area.
Mom sounds okay; they took her to the hospital this morning, because the dialysis people didn't want to take a chance with her graft looking like it might pop. Not exactly what anyone had in mind for the few days before a holiday, but better this way than her bleeding out all over the turkey. And, really, better that it happen when I'm here to take care of a few chores for her. She kind of fusses about that--she doesn't want me doing everything--but of course I'm happy to do it. What else am I going to do? I can only read for so long, and I'd just as soon be useful, all things considered.
I have to say that I enjoy having the experience and the training for all of the baking; I used a couple of recipes without (m)any changes, but I'm making several things up on the fly. Which, to be honest, I used to do before I went to pastry school, but now I have a slightly better idea what I'm doing. The thing is, not surprisingly, if you use good ingredients, it's hard to end up with a truly inedible product. Something might maybe have needed a little somethin' somethin', but, really, if it has chocolate and hazelnuts and butter and sugar and more chocolate in it, how bad will it be? I would have preferred cherries for the biscotti in the oven now, but hey, mom had cranberries, so I used cranberries; how much is it likely to suck?
Oh, wait; probably not at all.
Mom's definitely slowing down, though; her friend who lives next door took me walking with her this morning (so I could get at least a little exercise), and she said what I've also noticed, that my mom just doesn't have much appetite. There's a lot she can't eat, but she's just not that hungry a lot of the time. The thing that kind of concerns me is that she's also too tired to get any exercise. I try to convince her to walk on her non-dialysis days, even for 15 minutes (on the treadmill), but she has a hard time doing that, even. She does what she can, but the system is definitely under stress--and let's not forget that this is the person who had seven of her vertebrae fused about 8 years ago, because her spine was crumbling such that she couldn't stand or walk for more than 5 minutes at a time.
Ah, well. I'm just glad I decided to visit for this holiday. I can't do all that much except bake and cook, but at least that's something, and my parents like having me around, so there's that. And, really, the baking helps, too, because my mom likes to bring a cake or a bread or cookies or whatever to various little events; this way she'll have some things stashed. I guess it's kind of the stone soup approach to life; I can't offer much, but the baking I can offer will help a little, and someone else will pick up the slack in some other area.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Let the Baking Begin
So I went ahead and started the baking today, with a batch of biscotti (cranberries, pistachios, lemon, aniseseed) and a double batch of pumpkin bread. I wasn't pleased with how the biscotti came out--they needed to bake longer for the first bake--and, of course, I changed the pumpkin bread recipe a bit (used butter instead of oil; used buttermilk instead of yogurt, because mom had gotten strawberry instead of plain). Tomorrow I'll do the chocolate cookies with hazelnuts, if I can remember what I used as a recipe; more likely I'll make up something as I go. I may do another batch of biscotti while I'm at it, given that the oven will be on anyway. I'll also do the preferment for the large pretzels (I got the formula from Bossman on Friday before I left) so I can make pretzels on Tuesday.
I may make some pie crusts, too; I promised my dad a mince pie, and I may be called upon to make some other pies as well. I can always mix up the dough tomorrow and then make the actual pies later in the week. So Wednesday will be pies, cream puffs, pastry cream filling for the cream puffs, and maybe the barley. For Thursday I'm going to make barley with onions and cranberries, and possibly some stuffed mushrooms. (I don't particularly want them, but my mom does; not sure whether she has my grandmother's actual recipe, though.) So, really, I'm getting to do a lot of cooking and baking--unfortunately not with all of the tools that I would prefer, but at least I sent my recipes along. (I don't even have a decent knife to use, despite my mother's assurances that she had good knives--sorry, mom, but paring knives don't really count.)
The challenge in cooking for my mom is that there's so much she can't eat--anything that's high in potassium or phosphorus is a problem, for example. Most vegetables are a problem (which is a drag for me), and a lot of grains, too. She's extremely diligent about watching what she eats, which definitely helps her health, but I know she misses so much. She's also going to need her graft repaired (a spot where the vein and artery are connected directly, so she can get dialysis); it's getting leaky, which could be life-threatening. (If the artery gets an aneurysm and bursts she could bleed out.) Meanwhile, dad has had to do a second round of steroids for his skin rash, which means the beer tasting has had to be delayed. I can list their problems, and they're clearly . . . wearing out, I guess, but they also keep chugging along. My dad exercises every day, including lifting weights a few days a week, and they eat a healthy diet, and my mom exercises when she has the energy (Mondays wear her out). Seeing them look so old makes me feel old, that's for sure.
I got a quick call from Friend this morning; he already got a deer, at 7:15 yesterday morning, i.e., practically minutes after the season opened. So, yay, more venison in the coming year. The conversation wasn't long, as he was in a small town in the middle of nowhere and the connection was spotty (the connection at the place where he hunts is non-existent, so I only got a call because he happened to be going into town) and failed pretty quickly. He still has to finish cutting it up and such, and I think he has a tag for his mom, too, so he'll stay up there; it's also a chance to hang with various relatives, including his brother, who only goes every other year.
I may have to move soon; my parents have a pellet stove in their little sunroom, and it heats things up nicely. (Not the bedrooms so much, but that's okay with me; I prefer sleeping in a cooler room, though admittedly not quite as cool as it was last night). I've been sitting here awhile, and I can feel my sinuses shriveling up from the dryness, but the heat feels nice.
I may make some pie crusts, too; I promised my dad a mince pie, and I may be called upon to make some other pies as well. I can always mix up the dough tomorrow and then make the actual pies later in the week. So Wednesday will be pies, cream puffs, pastry cream filling for the cream puffs, and maybe the barley. For Thursday I'm going to make barley with onions and cranberries, and possibly some stuffed mushrooms. (I don't particularly want them, but my mom does; not sure whether she has my grandmother's actual recipe, though.) So, really, I'm getting to do a lot of cooking and baking--unfortunately not with all of the tools that I would prefer, but at least I sent my recipes along. (I don't even have a decent knife to use, despite my mother's assurances that she had good knives--sorry, mom, but paring knives don't really count.)
The challenge in cooking for my mom is that there's so much she can't eat--anything that's high in potassium or phosphorus is a problem, for example. Most vegetables are a problem (which is a drag for me), and a lot of grains, too. She's extremely diligent about watching what she eats, which definitely helps her health, but I know she misses so much. She's also going to need her graft repaired (a spot where the vein and artery are connected directly, so she can get dialysis); it's getting leaky, which could be life-threatening. (If the artery gets an aneurysm and bursts she could bleed out.) Meanwhile, dad has had to do a second round of steroids for his skin rash, which means the beer tasting has had to be delayed. I can list their problems, and they're clearly . . . wearing out, I guess, but they also keep chugging along. My dad exercises every day, including lifting weights a few days a week, and they eat a healthy diet, and my mom exercises when she has the energy (Mondays wear her out). Seeing them look so old makes me feel old, that's for sure.
I got a quick call from Friend this morning; he already got a deer, at 7:15 yesterday morning, i.e., practically minutes after the season opened. So, yay, more venison in the coming year. The conversation wasn't long, as he was in a small town in the middle of nowhere and the connection was spotty (the connection at the place where he hunts is non-existent, so I only got a call because he happened to be going into town) and failed pretty quickly. He still has to finish cutting it up and such, and I think he has a tag for his mom, too, so he'll stay up there; it's also a chance to hang with various relatives, including his brother, who only goes every other year.
I may have to move soon; my parents have a pellet stove in their little sunroom, and it heats things up nicely. (Not the bedrooms so much, but that's okay with me; I prefer sleeping in a cooler room, though admittedly not quite as cool as it was last night). I've been sitting here awhile, and I can feel my sinuses shriveling up from the dryness, but the heat feels nice.
In Training (1)
I'm on my way. The only down side of this particular trip is that I have to switch (in Pittsburgh, at 5:00 am, with a two-hour layover until 7:00 or so) to a coach rather than sleeper car. Given the early hour at which I normally wake, and given that I'm planning on going to sleep early tonight anyway, that shouldn't be an issue. I also have an editing job to do, so once I switch trains tomorrow, I can crank away on that until I get to Philadelphia.
Meanwhile, I have a laptop. a half a bottle of wine (poured into a small thermos), and I've already had a snack (a pretzel from the bakery and some cheese). I'm also a fully-laden swallow for this trip; I expect the return to be somewhat lighter, given that I won't be lugging two stollen from the bakery or assorted other odds and ends.
I've been fighting something off the past couple of days. It mostly showed up in my gut, so I"m not entirely sure whether it's food poisoning or some random virus. Mostly I've ignored it, though I've tried to rehydrate and I've ended up taking some ibuprofen for random headaches. It's clearly caused by one or the other, and it's mostly gone now, but I'm tired.
I'm also tired from work. I'm tired from dealing with coworkers and usual office bullshit, which is a completely different kind of tired.
Our medical director noted the other day that s/he thinks we're seeing a lot of secondary trauma among our providers, and that's probably true. The people our providers see--and our front desk staff, and our cliinical support staff--are people for whom there are few safety nets. WE'RE the safety net. They are homeless or living in a shelter (which counts as homeless). They are very likely to have a mental illness, a substance abuse issue, a history of some kind of abuse, or some lovely combination of the three. They do not have resources or tools, other than the ones that have kept them alive on the streets. Realistically speaking, they are never going to hold a job that will enable them to substantially change their situation. They may qualify for disability at some point, they may get to a better place, but they are not going to become employed, healthy members of the working or middle class.
Mind you, I do not deal with our patients directly. I walk past them as they line up for the health center's opening in the morning, or I see them in the hallway, but I am back in the adminsitrative offices. I don't know how our providers do it.
I'm looking forward to baking and cooking for a week. What I'd like to be able to do is fill my parents' freezer with stuff they can eat. My mom has to have her graft redone the week after next, and my dad is still dealing with side effects from his chemo (basically, a full-body rash; if there's an unusual reaction to a medication, my dad is going to be the person who gets it), so I figure anything I can do to help them not have to cook much in the next few weeks will be a good thing.
Normally I stay with my parents part of the time and my brother part of the time, but this time I'm staying with my parents the whole time. Partly it's because I want to do a lot of stuff for my parents--see the cooking and baking above--but partly it's that I just don't feel like dealing with my brother. Don't get me wrong; he's perfectly happy to have me around, perfectly entertaining and such, but I'm just tired of him.
A few months ago, I was talking to my boss about the whole thing, and I realized, in part as a result of what my boss said, that I really don't feel like having a conversation with my brother about him not bringing my nephews to visit me. The reality is, if he wanted them to visit me, he'd find a way to make that happen. He hasn't done that. Why bring it up? To tell him how hurt and pissed off I am? What purpose will that serve? Right: none at all.
I guess the point I've reached is that I only feel like bringing something up, having a conversation--with anyone, not just my brother--when there's a reason to do so. If someone isn't going to change his or her perspective or behavior as a result of a conversation, then why bother? Why waste my time and why go through the drama? It is what it is. I can try to forge a relationship with my nephews as best I can and go from there.
Meanwhile, on Top Chef, they're down to the final four--and, what a surprise, it's Jen, the Volt brothers, and Kevin. This week was interesting because they had the chefs (the four plus Eli, who got sent home) imitate the Bocuse d'Or challenge. Admittedly, this was wildly different from the actual competition: these guys had four hours to cook their meals, and no opportunity to practice, to refine, to choreograph their meals. (I know from Bossman at the bakery that you practice over and over and over, and then some more, for any kind of competition like this.) The results were really quite interesting.
Kevin produced a meal that was well-prepared, lots of flavor, but not nearly enough Fancy-Ass Technique for the BdO (he's also the one who won). Bryan Volt ran out of time--something that would not have happened if he'd had months to practice. Michael presented a platter that simply didn't hold together, flavor-profile-wise, and, again, that's not something that's likely to happen after months of work. (Bossman talked about how the final products were decided for his competition, and it's not a simple process by any means.) Eli had some parts that weren't cooked (ew). Jen had unevenly cut, and, therefore, unevenly cooked salmon, but apparently she wowed them with her sides.
In other words, no one got all of it, which is hardly a surprise.
However, more importantly, two things stood out that had nothing to do with the actual food. First, without Robin and Mike I.,, there was almost no drama. It's true that Eli had contributed to the drama with Robin, but he is also much more capable than many of the other competitors. (Mike I., on the other hand, mouthed off all the fucking time, but he did not impress me with a single dish.) Without the irritation, Eli just focused on his food. He lost, true, but it was not a bad effort; the only other chef that could maybe have competed in that arena was Ashley, and she was dinged (unfairly, I think) early on, in part because of a fuckup of Eli's.
Second, though, we saw a lot more of what I've experienced (in my limited experience). When Kevin asked, Bryan told Kevin how to sous vide the lamb--even though, in the end, that may have contributed to Kevin coming out ahead of Bryan. (And Kevin still gets props for doing it right: remember the end of last season when Carla tried that technique and it failed?) Jen had an extra half hour to cook because she won the Quickfire, and she ended up helping Bryan at one point ("Tell me what you want me to do," she said, and he did, and, presumably, she did it, which is the sign of two professionals who know their shit and can communicate it). In other words, without the drama and irritations of the annoying ones, the chefs were able to focus on their own food but also able to lend a hand at times.
Bossman was always willing to share formulas with other bakers. He is part of a group of a dozen bakers who meet more or less monthly (they skip December and one other month, I think). Generally, they each bring a sample of some kind of product--either a seasonal product (something for St. Pat's day) or a type of product (a bran muffin). Once when I was there they all made the exact same oatmeal cookie formula. And those 12 oatmeal cookies were really quite different, which is why Bossman was so willing to share. Good bakers will be able to make something that's closer, but there will still be variations. And, really, what difference does it make? If the end result is that people eat better food, how is that a bad thing?
Which is one of the reasons he was perfectly happy to give me the recipe he's using for homemade pretzels. I'm hoping to make it w/ my nephews, but I'm going to make it one way or another.
Okay. I can't actually post this until I get a connection somewhere, but it's also time to stare blankly out the window, watching Indiana roll by.
Meanwhile, I have a laptop. a half a bottle of wine (poured into a small thermos), and I've already had a snack (a pretzel from the bakery and some cheese). I'm also a fully-laden swallow for this trip; I expect the return to be somewhat lighter, given that I won't be lugging two stollen from the bakery or assorted other odds and ends.
I've been fighting something off the past couple of days. It mostly showed up in my gut, so I"m not entirely sure whether it's food poisoning or some random virus. Mostly I've ignored it, though I've tried to rehydrate and I've ended up taking some ibuprofen for random headaches. It's clearly caused by one or the other, and it's mostly gone now, but I'm tired.
I'm also tired from work. I'm tired from dealing with coworkers and usual office bullshit, which is a completely different kind of tired.
Our medical director noted the other day that s/he thinks we're seeing a lot of secondary trauma among our providers, and that's probably true. The people our providers see--and our front desk staff, and our cliinical support staff--are people for whom there are few safety nets. WE'RE the safety net. They are homeless or living in a shelter (which counts as homeless). They are very likely to have a mental illness, a substance abuse issue, a history of some kind of abuse, or some lovely combination of the three. They do not have resources or tools, other than the ones that have kept them alive on the streets. Realistically speaking, they are never going to hold a job that will enable them to substantially change their situation. They may qualify for disability at some point, they may get to a better place, but they are not going to become employed, healthy members of the working or middle class.
Mind you, I do not deal with our patients directly. I walk past them as they line up for the health center's opening in the morning, or I see them in the hallway, but I am back in the adminsitrative offices. I don't know how our providers do it.
I'm looking forward to baking and cooking for a week. What I'd like to be able to do is fill my parents' freezer with stuff they can eat. My mom has to have her graft redone the week after next, and my dad is still dealing with side effects from his chemo (basically, a full-body rash; if there's an unusual reaction to a medication, my dad is going to be the person who gets it), so I figure anything I can do to help them not have to cook much in the next few weeks will be a good thing.
Normally I stay with my parents part of the time and my brother part of the time, but this time I'm staying with my parents the whole time. Partly it's because I want to do a lot of stuff for my parents--see the cooking and baking above--but partly it's that I just don't feel like dealing with my brother. Don't get me wrong; he's perfectly happy to have me around, perfectly entertaining and such, but I'm just tired of him.
A few months ago, I was talking to my boss about the whole thing, and I realized, in part as a result of what my boss said, that I really don't feel like having a conversation with my brother about him not bringing my nephews to visit me. The reality is, if he wanted them to visit me, he'd find a way to make that happen. He hasn't done that. Why bring it up? To tell him how hurt and pissed off I am? What purpose will that serve? Right: none at all.
I guess the point I've reached is that I only feel like bringing something up, having a conversation--with anyone, not just my brother--when there's a reason to do so. If someone isn't going to change his or her perspective or behavior as a result of a conversation, then why bother? Why waste my time and why go through the drama? It is what it is. I can try to forge a relationship with my nephews as best I can and go from there.
Meanwhile, on Top Chef, they're down to the final four--and, what a surprise, it's Jen, the Volt brothers, and Kevin. This week was interesting because they had the chefs (the four plus Eli, who got sent home) imitate the Bocuse d'Or challenge. Admittedly, this was wildly different from the actual competition: these guys had four hours to cook their meals, and no opportunity to practice, to refine, to choreograph their meals. (I know from Bossman at the bakery that you practice over and over and over, and then some more, for any kind of competition like this.) The results were really quite interesting.
Kevin produced a meal that was well-prepared, lots of flavor, but not nearly enough Fancy-Ass Technique for the BdO (he's also the one who won). Bryan Volt ran out of time--something that would not have happened if he'd had months to practice. Michael presented a platter that simply didn't hold together, flavor-profile-wise, and, again, that's not something that's likely to happen after months of work. (Bossman talked about how the final products were decided for his competition, and it's not a simple process by any means.) Eli had some parts that weren't cooked (ew). Jen had unevenly cut, and, therefore, unevenly cooked salmon, but apparently she wowed them with her sides.
In other words, no one got all of it, which is hardly a surprise.
However, more importantly, two things stood out that had nothing to do with the actual food. First, without Robin and Mike I.,, there was almost no drama. It's true that Eli had contributed to the drama with Robin, but he is also much more capable than many of the other competitors. (Mike I., on the other hand, mouthed off all the fucking time, but he did not impress me with a single dish.) Without the irritation, Eli just focused on his food. He lost, true, but it was not a bad effort; the only other chef that could maybe have competed in that arena was Ashley, and she was dinged (unfairly, I think) early on, in part because of a fuckup of Eli's.
Second, though, we saw a lot more of what I've experienced (in my limited experience). When Kevin asked, Bryan told Kevin how to sous vide the lamb--even though, in the end, that may have contributed to Kevin coming out ahead of Bryan. (And Kevin still gets props for doing it right: remember the end of last season when Carla tried that technique and it failed?) Jen had an extra half hour to cook because she won the Quickfire, and she ended up helping Bryan at one point ("Tell me what you want me to do," she said, and he did, and, presumably, she did it, which is the sign of two professionals who know their shit and can communicate it). In other words, without the drama and irritations of the annoying ones, the chefs were able to focus on their own food but also able to lend a hand at times.
Bossman was always willing to share formulas with other bakers. He is part of a group of a dozen bakers who meet more or less monthly (they skip December and one other month, I think). Generally, they each bring a sample of some kind of product--either a seasonal product (something for St. Pat's day) or a type of product (a bran muffin). Once when I was there they all made the exact same oatmeal cookie formula. And those 12 oatmeal cookies were really quite different, which is why Bossman was so willing to share. Good bakers will be able to make something that's closer, but there will still be variations. And, really, what difference does it make? If the end result is that people eat better food, how is that a bad thing?
Which is one of the reasons he was perfectly happy to give me the recipe he's using for homemade pretzels. I'm hoping to make it w/ my nephews, but I'm going to make it one way or another.
Okay. I can't actually post this until I get a connection somewhere, but it's also time to stare blankly out the window, watching Indiana roll by.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Competition
Last night, I made some rice pudding, mostly to use up the milk I bought a few weeks ago (one of the advantages of the ultrapasturized stuff is that it lasts forfuckingever). I used brown rice instead of white, and I sliced some fresh ginger in it while it cooked. I increased the amount of rice, to make it have more texture and chewiness. I used honey instead of sugar (you saw that coming, I'm sure), and, if I'd have any, I would have thrown in some orange rind. If I take it to work as a breakfast item, I'll throw in some dried fruit; if I were making it as a dessert, I might make a quick peach compote (or how about figs?) and swirl that in. In any case, it came out really well; next time I'll reduce the amount of honey a bit and possibly increase the rice even more. Maple syrup instead of honey would be an option as well. It's quite tasty. It would not win a competition, but it wouldn't end up at the bottom, either.
And speaking of vegetable-based cuisine, a couple of weeks ago I stopped at a local bakery that specializes in organic stuff, and includes vegan offerings as well. The cakes and cupcakes I've had were pretty good; the laminated doughs don't look like much. So I order a cupcake, and take a taste of this sample square sitting there. I asked the counter person what it is, and he says it's "vegan cheesecake." I point out that if it's actually vegan, then, no, it is NOT cheesecake. Oh, yes, he enthuses, it's made with silken tofu! (Which would explain why it tasted like ass, perhaps.) Look, people: if you want to be vegan, go ahead. But you can't call it "cheese" cake. Go ahead and call it tofu-cake, or even silken-tofu cake, but you can only call it cheesecake if there is yummy delicious cheese in it. (Similarly, you shouldn't call Pringles "potato chips." Go ahead and call them dried-potato-with-wheat-starch-and-maltodextrin wafers, or something like that, but they aren't potato chips in any real sense.)
An additional disadvantage I'd have on one of the competition shows is what happens when they put an unusual ingredient in front of me: snails, frogs' legs, cactus, a pork belly. Those are not, in general, the type of ingredient that shows up in your grocery store (cactus does, if you're in a hispanic neighborhood), and I am not sufficiently interested in learning how to cook them that I'd try to hunt them down. I don't know how to butcher anything, and, while I like the concept of using the whole animal, and am even willing to eat a lot of a given animal, if you put a beef tongue in front of me, I'd have no fucking clue what to do with it. I'd probably try to slow cook it in some way, because I can't imagine it's as tender as, say a tenderloin, but I am not going to be able to do anything creative or interesting with it, and there's a good chance I'd completely fuck it up.
One of the more interesting comments, from a couple of weeks ago, was Laurine's comment, on getting sent home, that she'd realized something about herself, i.e., that she really doesn't want to compete with people. I actually rather admired her for that; it's an important realization. I also suspect that she realized that, while she may be quite good at what she does, she doesn't have the skills that the Volts, Jen, or Kevin have. (I think the rest of them, even if they're still in the mix, don't have that skill set, either. Eli occasionally shows flashes, but he's not there, and his ego may prevent him from ever getting there.) Sometimes that can be very freeing, and really enable you to learn: when i was in pastry school, for example, it was clear pretty quickly that I simply did not have the skills or experience of several other people in the class (the Brazen Tart, for one, and her first partner, for another, immediately come to mind). But that didn't matter to me: I was there to learn, and it wasn't a competition. It was an opportunity to learn a whole lot of stuff that, had i actually been able to open a bakery, would have been necessary, and that even stood me in good stead in the job I got. I didn't care that others were a lot better than I was, and I rather liked the opportunity to fuck up, because I learned a great deal from that, without the danger of losing a competition, or failing out, or even screwing up something for my boss.
I've done a lot of stuff in my life, and it's one of the few times I've been able to engage in that kind of risk-free learning. Right now, for example, I'm basically managing all of the budgets for my organization, with no help, and it's making me very nervous. I talk things through with my boss, and he is really getting up to speed in the overall bits, but what I really need is someone with an accounting eye AND a program-oriented eye to review the whole thing and see what I'm missing. Instead, I have to deal with a controller who doesn't provide any assistance at all--who gets in the way, actually, and seems completely disinclined to learn about the program side of it. (And who is also acting like a complete tool, but that's another story.) There have been several occasions where I realized--rather late in the game--that I missed a big expenditure, or didn't take something into account when I was calculating productivity and revenue. This makes me very, very nervous, especially because the pressures put on me from above (including above my boss) simply are not concerned with messy, complex details. Some things cannot be made simple, and no amount of insisting otherwise is going to change that, but some people are completely impervious to that. Which just adds to the pressure.
Which--in my mind, anyway--leads to one of my biggest beefs with Top Chef: I really, really, really hate that they use up precious time with dramatic music and swirly camera shots before someone gets sent packing. I don't mind some of the outside-the-kitchen drama, because it helps illustrate people's personalities (up to a point, anyway), but we KNOW someone is getting sent home; just do it, already. I also don't like about half of the interviews--yes, we know, you're Still In It! And you Know a Few Things! And you're Here To Win! (Quick; someone come up with a Top Chef bingo card . . .) Sometimes it's useful--like showing Mike I. talking about how his mom was vegan and so he knows all about cooking vegetarian, and then he serves up that slop. Dude, you may be able to run a restaurant, but I could come up with a better vegetarian meal using what's in my kitchen right now (as opposed to the kitchens at Craftsteak, where they all were), than that mess.
Point being, the complexity of the show comes not from the attempts to add drama, but from what the chefs actually produce and how they do it (or how they fail). But the editors want to show the simple story lines--Robin is a pain; Mike I. is an asshole; the Brothers V. are competitive and tense, as well as talented; Jen is falling apart (which I wish she would stop; she's so talented, and she's just tying herself in knots; relax, dude!). Yes, fine, those are useful things to know, but give us more of the food, more of the cooking, more of how they think about and produce the food they produce. I don't want to see how Mike I. produces an undercooked leek that's supposed to mimic a scallop (thereby forgetting Fabio's Dictum: it's Top Chef, not Top Scallop), except in passing, I want to see more of the dishes that worked.
Anyway.
Let's see if I can manage to do anything today other than work out and take a shower (which I haven't done yet, so that's not a done deal, either).
And speaking of vegetable-based cuisine, a couple of weeks ago I stopped at a local bakery that specializes in organic stuff, and includes vegan offerings as well. The cakes and cupcakes I've had were pretty good; the laminated doughs don't look like much. So I order a cupcake, and take a taste of this sample square sitting there. I asked the counter person what it is, and he says it's "vegan cheesecake." I point out that if it's actually vegan, then, no, it is NOT cheesecake. Oh, yes, he enthuses, it's made with silken tofu! (Which would explain why it tasted like ass, perhaps.) Look, people: if you want to be vegan, go ahead. But you can't call it "cheese" cake. Go ahead and call it tofu-cake, or even silken-tofu cake, but you can only call it cheesecake if there is yummy delicious cheese in it. (Similarly, you shouldn't call Pringles "potato chips." Go ahead and call them dried-potato-with-wheat-starch-and-maltodextrin wafers, or something like that, but they aren't potato chips in any real sense.)
An additional disadvantage I'd have on one of the competition shows is what happens when they put an unusual ingredient in front of me: snails, frogs' legs, cactus, a pork belly. Those are not, in general, the type of ingredient that shows up in your grocery store (cactus does, if you're in a hispanic neighborhood), and I am not sufficiently interested in learning how to cook them that I'd try to hunt them down. I don't know how to butcher anything, and, while I like the concept of using the whole animal, and am even willing to eat a lot of a given animal, if you put a beef tongue in front of me, I'd have no fucking clue what to do with it. I'd probably try to slow cook it in some way, because I can't imagine it's as tender as, say a tenderloin, but I am not going to be able to do anything creative or interesting with it, and there's a good chance I'd completely fuck it up.
One of the more interesting comments, from a couple of weeks ago, was Laurine's comment, on getting sent home, that she'd realized something about herself, i.e., that she really doesn't want to compete with people. I actually rather admired her for that; it's an important realization. I also suspect that she realized that, while she may be quite good at what she does, she doesn't have the skills that the Volts, Jen, or Kevin have. (I think the rest of them, even if they're still in the mix, don't have that skill set, either. Eli occasionally shows flashes, but he's not there, and his ego may prevent him from ever getting there.) Sometimes that can be very freeing, and really enable you to learn: when i was in pastry school, for example, it was clear pretty quickly that I simply did not have the skills or experience of several other people in the class (the Brazen Tart, for one, and her first partner, for another, immediately come to mind). But that didn't matter to me: I was there to learn, and it wasn't a competition. It was an opportunity to learn a whole lot of stuff that, had i actually been able to open a bakery, would have been necessary, and that even stood me in good stead in the job I got. I didn't care that others were a lot better than I was, and I rather liked the opportunity to fuck up, because I learned a great deal from that, without the danger of losing a competition, or failing out, or even screwing up something for my boss.
I've done a lot of stuff in my life, and it's one of the few times I've been able to engage in that kind of risk-free learning. Right now, for example, I'm basically managing all of the budgets for my organization, with no help, and it's making me very nervous. I talk things through with my boss, and he is really getting up to speed in the overall bits, but what I really need is someone with an accounting eye AND a program-oriented eye to review the whole thing and see what I'm missing. Instead, I have to deal with a controller who doesn't provide any assistance at all--who gets in the way, actually, and seems completely disinclined to learn about the program side of it. (And who is also acting like a complete tool, but that's another story.) There have been several occasions where I realized--rather late in the game--that I missed a big expenditure, or didn't take something into account when I was calculating productivity and revenue. This makes me very, very nervous, especially because the pressures put on me from above (including above my boss) simply are not concerned with messy, complex details. Some things cannot be made simple, and no amount of insisting otherwise is going to change that, but some people are completely impervious to that. Which just adds to the pressure.
Which--in my mind, anyway--leads to one of my biggest beefs with Top Chef: I really, really, really hate that they use up precious time with dramatic music and swirly camera shots before someone gets sent packing. I don't mind some of the outside-the-kitchen drama, because it helps illustrate people's personalities (up to a point, anyway), but we KNOW someone is getting sent home; just do it, already. I also don't like about half of the interviews--yes, we know, you're Still In It! And you Know a Few Things! And you're Here To Win! (Quick; someone come up with a Top Chef bingo card . . .) Sometimes it's useful--like showing Mike I. talking about how his mom was vegan and so he knows all about cooking vegetarian, and then he serves up that slop. Dude, you may be able to run a restaurant, but I could come up with a better vegetarian meal using what's in my kitchen right now (as opposed to the kitchens at Craftsteak, where they all were), than that mess.
Point being, the complexity of the show comes not from the attempts to add drama, but from what the chefs actually produce and how they do it (or how they fail). But the editors want to show the simple story lines--Robin is a pain; Mike I. is an asshole; the Brothers V. are competitive and tense, as well as talented; Jen is falling apart (which I wish she would stop; she's so talented, and she's just tying herself in knots; relax, dude!). Yes, fine, those are useful things to know, but give us more of the food, more of the cooking, more of how they think about and produce the food they produce. I don't want to see how Mike I. produces an undercooked leek that's supposed to mimic a scallop (thereby forgetting Fabio's Dictum: it's Top Chef, not Top Scallop), except in passing, I want to see more of the dishes that worked.
Anyway.
Let's see if I can manage to do anything today other than work out and take a shower (which I haven't done yet, so that's not a done deal, either).
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Vegetables Ahoy
I've been fibrillating about buying a new desktop computer. On one hand, my current has 15g of hard disk space. On the other hand, it has a Motorola chip, which means I can't merely update it to the latest OS, and, more to the point, things are starting to get wonky with it. I was beginning to suspect that the reason things are slow when I'm online is the browsers--which can't be upgraded, because of the OS--rather than my internet connection, per se. (Side note: a new pet peeve is the number of people who spell that "per say.")
Today I hooked up my laptop to the intertubes, and, yes, it turns out, things are much faster with the laptop, which has a newer OS. So I'm torn. I really hate "wasting" a computer that's perfectly adequate for a chunk of what I do--this typing is in TextEdit, and it works just fine, and much of the editing I do is in Office 2004, which works just fine on this OS. (Office 2008 for Mac has gotten nothing but crappy reviews, so I have absolutely no desire to "upgrade" to it.) But getting online is getting cumbersome; some internet-involved tasks become painfully slow; and, of course, this iMac has a 15-inch screen, but the new ones have 27-inch screens (bigger than my TV!), which would give me a whole lot more screen real estate for anything I do. (Just switching to the laptop isn't a great solution; though hooking up the keyboard and mouse to it helps somewhat, the screen is no bigger than the iMac's). I had decided to hold off--spending $2k isn't exactly a trivial decision, unless there are lottery winnings involved--but now the slowness issue is making me re-re-re-think the whole thing again. Did I mention that I hate to "waste" a computer? Most likely, I'll fibrillate a little longer, try to find a place to donate the current iMac (anyone need one?), and eventually get a new one. But I wish I could avoid it for another year or so.
At breakfast this morning--at the place where kstyle and her husband and I had breakfast a few weeks ago--Friend and I were discussing last week's Top Chef. (This week was some bullshit reunion show that I didn't watch so i could watch My Team go down in defeat.) It was the Vegetarian Challenge, and I was as appalled as the judges were at the lame offerings that most of the chefs provided. The Volt brother who did the banana polenta, and Kevin, who did something with roasted vegetables, managed to put together actual meals, but the rest of it was pretty disappointing. (And was I glad to see Mike I. told to pack his knives--before Robin--even though he made all kinds of claims about Knowing How to Cook Great Vegetarian Meals? Oh yes, yes indeed I was.) No one used a grain (except the polenta), or rice, or pasta, which I just thought was bizarre.
I like meat, as my accounts of various meals makes clear, but I don't eat very much of it (almost never, at my own house), what meat I do eat tends to be fish, game (venison, rabbit, wild turkey), or organic, and I'm not usually the one who's actually cooking the meat (Friend does it at his house, or we go out). I am not religious about this, though I have become much less willing to eat commercial beef and pork. I can easily go several days (or even weeks, if it came to it) without any meat and not miss it. In addition, several of my favorite cookbooks are from Moosewood, i.e., vegetarian. What this means is that I've done a lot of cooking without meat over the years, and I have some idea what you can do.
How is it that the admittedly-WAY-more-talented-than-I-am chefs showed up for this competition without a few vegetarian (or even vegan) dishes in their back pockets? Seriously--what do vegetarians at their restaurants get to eat? The infamous roasted veggies? Some boring pasta dish? Why not some farro? Barley? Brown and wild rice? Quinoa? How about some roasted squash, kale, and farro? How about spinach, garlic, pesto, pasta, with some white beans thrown in for good measure? Or a puree of white beans, roasted garlic, fresh rosemary or sage, and some olive oil, perhaps with some grilled or roasted eggplant or zucchini and some rice? (And why did almost no one use beans? And only Eli used them well.)
I was bitching in this vein to Friend, noting that I am not a professional chef and even I could have done better. He quarreled with my claim, however, and not just because of the pastry school education. (Speaking of which, did you see they might do a Top Chef for pastry chefs? Brazen Tart! Get your ass to whatever audition process they have!!) Friend recognizes that many of the chefs on the show would not recognize a pastry chef as a "real" chef, but, he pointed out, I have been interested in cooking good food for two or three decades, at this point, in addition to having at least some professional experience, even if it isn't hot-line experience or even restaurant line experience.
And I do understand his point, even as I recognize that I have nowhere near the knowledge, experience, or talent to compete on the show. I think I could do better than the bottom third, maybe, but I do not have what it takes to go up against people with even moderately serious fine-dining chops. I can even tell you why, and it mostly has to do with (a) not having experience preparing a lot of the proteins, given my quirky experiences with meat, (b) not having a thorough knowledge of a variety of sauces and techniques, and (c) not having the kind of hot-line experience that would enable me to come up with things quickly for the Quickfires.
All of that aside, my point remains: how did they show up without some vegetarian options in their back pockets? Something's wrong when I can come up with a half a dozen better dishes than what those chefs produced for the show.
Today I hooked up my laptop to the intertubes, and, yes, it turns out, things are much faster with the laptop, which has a newer OS. So I'm torn. I really hate "wasting" a computer that's perfectly adequate for a chunk of what I do--this typing is in TextEdit, and it works just fine, and much of the editing I do is in Office 2004, which works just fine on this OS. (Office 2008 for Mac has gotten nothing but crappy reviews, so I have absolutely no desire to "upgrade" to it.) But getting online is getting cumbersome; some internet-involved tasks become painfully slow; and, of course, this iMac has a 15-inch screen, but the new ones have 27-inch screens (bigger than my TV!), which would give me a whole lot more screen real estate for anything I do. (Just switching to the laptop isn't a great solution; though hooking up the keyboard and mouse to it helps somewhat, the screen is no bigger than the iMac's). I had decided to hold off--spending $2k isn't exactly a trivial decision, unless there are lottery winnings involved--but now the slowness issue is making me re-re-re-think the whole thing again. Did I mention that I hate to "waste" a computer? Most likely, I'll fibrillate a little longer, try to find a place to donate the current iMac (anyone need one?), and eventually get a new one. But I wish I could avoid it for another year or so.
At breakfast this morning--at the place where kstyle and her husband and I had breakfast a few weeks ago--Friend and I were discussing last week's Top Chef. (This week was some bullshit reunion show that I didn't watch so i could watch My Team go down in defeat.) It was the Vegetarian Challenge, and I was as appalled as the judges were at the lame offerings that most of the chefs provided. The Volt brother who did the banana polenta, and Kevin, who did something with roasted vegetables, managed to put together actual meals, but the rest of it was pretty disappointing. (And was I glad to see Mike I. told to pack his knives--before Robin--even though he made all kinds of claims about Knowing How to Cook Great Vegetarian Meals? Oh yes, yes indeed I was.) No one used a grain (except the polenta), or rice, or pasta, which I just thought was bizarre.
I like meat, as my accounts of various meals makes clear, but I don't eat very much of it (almost never, at my own house), what meat I do eat tends to be fish, game (venison, rabbit, wild turkey), or organic, and I'm not usually the one who's actually cooking the meat (Friend does it at his house, or we go out). I am not religious about this, though I have become much less willing to eat commercial beef and pork. I can easily go several days (or even weeks, if it came to it) without any meat and not miss it. In addition, several of my favorite cookbooks are from Moosewood, i.e., vegetarian. What this means is that I've done a lot of cooking without meat over the years, and I have some idea what you can do.
How is it that the admittedly-WAY-more-talented-than-I-am chefs showed up for this competition without a few vegetarian (or even vegan) dishes in their back pockets? Seriously--what do vegetarians at their restaurants get to eat? The infamous roasted veggies? Some boring pasta dish? Why not some farro? Barley? Brown and wild rice? Quinoa? How about some roasted squash, kale, and farro? How about spinach, garlic, pesto, pasta, with some white beans thrown in for good measure? Or a puree of white beans, roasted garlic, fresh rosemary or sage, and some olive oil, perhaps with some grilled or roasted eggplant or zucchini and some rice? (And why did almost no one use beans? And only Eli used them well.)
I was bitching in this vein to Friend, noting that I am not a professional chef and even I could have done better. He quarreled with my claim, however, and not just because of the pastry school education. (Speaking of which, did you see they might do a Top Chef for pastry chefs? Brazen Tart! Get your ass to whatever audition process they have!!) Friend recognizes that many of the chefs on the show would not recognize a pastry chef as a "real" chef, but, he pointed out, I have been interested in cooking good food for two or three decades, at this point, in addition to having at least some professional experience, even if it isn't hot-line experience or even restaurant line experience.
And I do understand his point, even as I recognize that I have nowhere near the knowledge, experience, or talent to compete on the show. I think I could do better than the bottom third, maybe, but I do not have what it takes to go up against people with even moderately serious fine-dining chops. I can even tell you why, and it mostly has to do with (a) not having experience preparing a lot of the proteins, given my quirky experiences with meat, (b) not having a thorough knowledge of a variety of sauces and techniques, and (c) not having the kind of hot-line experience that would enable me to come up with things quickly for the Quickfires.
All of that aside, my point remains: how did they show up without some vegetarian options in their back pockets? Something's wrong when I can come up with a half a dozen better dishes than what those chefs produced for the show.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Extra Hour
Apparently, the new way to describe suicide, at least among the clergy, is to call it a death that is "chosen." Which seems to be a problematic description to me for all kinds of reasons, but I'm going to let it be and return to the trivia that generally occupies this space.
I opted to go to bed last night before the baseball game finished, once it became less likely that the Phillies were going to be able to rally. As a result, and because we got that extra hour in the day today, I was wildly productive. I did three loads of laundry; worked out (while watching the last F1 race of the season); baked a batch of breakfast muffins (I think I have finally gotten that recipe where I want it); baked a batch of chocolate muffins made with malted barley syrup, in a not-quite-successful attempt to make something that tasted like malted milk balls; stirred up a batch of nougat; and made dinner. In addition, I talked to two friends for a total of about 2.5 hours and cooked up a batch of black beans, which I'll get around to using later this week, most likely with the sweet potatos I have in the fridge from last week's farmers' market. And it's only 8:00, so I feel like I've managed to fit two or three days' worth of chores into one day.
I had kind of wanted to do a lot more nothing today, while lounging on the couch--maybe even digging out the needlepoint that I wanted to start four years ago--but the chores actually seemed more appealing. Go figure.
I'm contemplating sending a box of tools to my parents' house before i go, so I have what I need while I'm there. My mom's kitchen is reasonably well-stocked, but I guarantee there are things she doesn't have that I'll want, and it would certainly be easier to send things back and forth than to shlep it with me. On the other hand, it's not at all clear that there are going to be very many people there for dinner, seeing as how my mother hasn't actually invited anyone yet.
A couple of weeks ago, I asked my mom how many people were going to be there and she said, oh, she didn't know. "So who have you talked to," I asked.
"Oh, I haven't even called anyone yet."
"Okay," I said (knowing my mother), "who are you mad at?"
"Nobody!"
"And, again, who are you mad at?"
"Your brother."
Turns out my brother and SIL and nephews are going to SIL's sister's stepdaughter's kid's baptism, or something, in North Carolina, the day I get into town, and the older nephew has a football banquet the next day (Sunday), and my brother is taking older nephew bear hunting on Monday and Tuesday. Mom thinks time should be spent with me. The nephews don't have off of school that week--older nephew is just going to miss school--so I can't corral younger nephew, most likely, but I'm angling to get him on Sunday, or maybe on Wednesday so he can help on Thursday. We'll see what my mom can arrange.
I try to tread as lightly as possible with my mom, because I don't want her to be caught in the middle between me and my brother. She knows how I feel--i.e., that it is reprehensible that my brother has never managed to bring my nephews out here, though they have been all over the country visiting my SIL's family, both with my brother and, this past summer, by themselves. My mom even agrees with me, but I have told her explicitly that I do not want her to intervene in any way, shape, or form, and I mean that. Between her kidney issues and my dad's cancer, she does not need to be dealing with that kind of crap.
And, really, there's no point in making a big hairy-ass deal out of it. Actions do speak louder than words, at least some of the time, and if my brother wanted to visit or wanted my nephews to visit, he could do that. Clearly it's not a priority for him in any way, and I see no point to bringing up the subject again. (Because, yes, I have brought it up: when I visited two years ago, right after I quit the bakery, I stayed with him part of the time, and I said, hey when are you guys going to come visit? I'd love to take the kids to some museums, etc. He said, oh, they play sports every season, they're so busy, it's just really impossible to find the time. A day later, unprompted, my SIL excitedly said that, because the kids had off for MLK Monday, she'd take them out of school on the previous Friday and go visit her mother for a long weekend in Florida. So, apparently, it is possible to find the time, if one wants to find it. I should also note that I do not hold SIL responsible for getting my nephews out here.)
Anyway. My Team isn't doing as well as I'd hoped they would, though I'm not terribly surprised, either. My only consolation is that my brother--who is a Mets fan--won't be happy either way.
I opted to go to bed last night before the baseball game finished, once it became less likely that the Phillies were going to be able to rally. As a result, and because we got that extra hour in the day today, I was wildly productive. I did three loads of laundry; worked out (while watching the last F1 race of the season); baked a batch of breakfast muffins (I think I have finally gotten that recipe where I want it); baked a batch of chocolate muffins made with malted barley syrup, in a not-quite-successful attempt to make something that tasted like malted milk balls; stirred up a batch of nougat; and made dinner. In addition, I talked to two friends for a total of about 2.5 hours and cooked up a batch of black beans, which I'll get around to using later this week, most likely with the sweet potatos I have in the fridge from last week's farmers' market. And it's only 8:00, so I feel like I've managed to fit two or three days' worth of chores into one day.
I had kind of wanted to do a lot more nothing today, while lounging on the couch--maybe even digging out the needlepoint that I wanted to start four years ago--but the chores actually seemed more appealing. Go figure.
I'm contemplating sending a box of tools to my parents' house before i go, so I have what I need while I'm there. My mom's kitchen is reasonably well-stocked, but I guarantee there are things she doesn't have that I'll want, and it would certainly be easier to send things back and forth than to shlep it with me. On the other hand, it's not at all clear that there are going to be very many people there for dinner, seeing as how my mother hasn't actually invited anyone yet.
A couple of weeks ago, I asked my mom how many people were going to be there and she said, oh, she didn't know. "So who have you talked to," I asked.
"Oh, I haven't even called anyone yet."
"Okay," I said (knowing my mother), "who are you mad at?"
"Nobody!"
"And, again, who are you mad at?"
"Your brother."
Turns out my brother and SIL and nephews are going to SIL's sister's stepdaughter's kid's baptism, or something, in North Carolina, the day I get into town, and the older nephew has a football banquet the next day (Sunday), and my brother is taking older nephew bear hunting on Monday and Tuesday. Mom thinks time should be spent with me. The nephews don't have off of school that week--older nephew is just going to miss school--so I can't corral younger nephew, most likely, but I'm angling to get him on Sunday, or maybe on Wednesday so he can help on Thursday. We'll see what my mom can arrange.
I try to tread as lightly as possible with my mom, because I don't want her to be caught in the middle between me and my brother. She knows how I feel--i.e., that it is reprehensible that my brother has never managed to bring my nephews out here, though they have been all over the country visiting my SIL's family, both with my brother and, this past summer, by themselves. My mom even agrees with me, but I have told her explicitly that I do not want her to intervene in any way, shape, or form, and I mean that. Between her kidney issues and my dad's cancer, she does not need to be dealing with that kind of crap.
And, really, there's no point in making a big hairy-ass deal out of it. Actions do speak louder than words, at least some of the time, and if my brother wanted to visit or wanted my nephews to visit, he could do that. Clearly it's not a priority for him in any way, and I see no point to bringing up the subject again. (Because, yes, I have brought it up: when I visited two years ago, right after I quit the bakery, I stayed with him part of the time, and I said, hey when are you guys going to come visit? I'd love to take the kids to some museums, etc. He said, oh, they play sports every season, they're so busy, it's just really impossible to find the time. A day later, unprompted, my SIL excitedly said that, because the kids had off for MLK Monday, she'd take them out of school on the previous Friday and go visit her mother for a long weekend in Florida. So, apparently, it is possible to find the time, if one wants to find it. I should also note that I do not hold SIL responsible for getting my nephews out here.)
Anyway. My Team isn't doing as well as I'd hoped they would, though I'm not terribly surprised, either. My only consolation is that my brother--who is a Mets fan--won't be happy either way.
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