Long time no write...

but I may be back soon.

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(not a re-post but a re-write of a post from an earlier web entity

I open the ‘fridge and pull the pale green head out of the bottom drawer. It is still wrapped in the thin plastic bag I had put it in when I picked it from the dozens of others at the store. I strip it of this transparent skin and place it on my mother’s mother’s chopping board. It’s not her “original” chopping board, that one went to my aunt Jean, but even this “secondary” board is a piece of Grandma’s kitchen, and therefore means the world to me.

I was too young, when my grandma died, to have ever really cooked meals with her. And even if she had lived longer, I was more than likely too male. I was, nonetheless, still the only grandkid, even with my being one of the youngest, to ever be allowed in the kitchen while she cooked. She was always so particular about cooking. She rarely let anyone around while she worked, not even Grandpa, though I doubt that he much minded. Like I said, though, I was too young to have ever really helped in the kitchen, and being young I never really picked up many, if any, of her techniques, though through the years I’ve tried to recreate them somehow. My son is not yet two years old, but I talk to him about what I’m doing when I’m in the kitchen and he decided to wander in to watch. I’m 30-some-odd years old. I want to make sure he knows as much about me as possible.

I turn the water on cold in the sink and wait until it is icy before dunking the cool cabbage head beneath its steady flow. I let the water course over its waxy surface, rinsing away any grit that may be left behind, while pulling off the outer layer of its leaves. The green of the cabbage is enthralling. Especially this far along in the winter. The weather of late has taken a sharp snap to the colder. It is early January, and statistically, the average temperature should be starting to rise, even if ever so slowly. It makes me long for the spring’s return even more, this delicate pale green cabbage.

I turn off the spigot and roll the weight of the cabbage in my cold fingers, checking it for any stray grime that may still be clinging to its folds and ridges. It shines in the early afternoon light that streams into the kitchen. My son is napping or I would make it a point to show him the vividness of the green nestled in my hands. He would surely love it. And I would peel a sliver of leaf off and let him taste it.

I shake the head dry over the basin and then put it on the chopping board again and daub the extra wetness from it with a towel. I unsheathe the biggest of the knives from its block and cut the head into quarters. The crunch as it splits is heady. I core out the stem from each of the quarters and put them all into a pot that I’ve already filled with water. I turn the flame on the stove up to a medium height. In an hour or so the scent of the cabbage will soak the house with its heaviness. For now, though, I go to my son’s bedroom. I listen outside his door and can hear the barest of snuffling as he snores softly. I sit on the floor outside his room and talk silently to my grandma. I ask her what it is that he dreams about when he sleeps because he’s still too young to tell me yet.

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Spring's sprung?

Heard the first robins this morning, I think.

I'll have to check with Mouse to be sure.

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Saturday Morning...

Rain was pretty heavy. Well, really heavy.

And I'm not a good driver into the city even in the best of circumstances.

We (Ursa Minor and I) went to the Field Museum to see the Real Pirates Exhibit (and wander around for a bit). It was a great time.

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Square Root Day

I picked up Ursa Minor from the after school program as I do every Tuesday through Thursday.

On our way out, we passed some student work displayed on the wall.

Ursa Minor enjoys Greek/Roman mythology, and I noticed there were references that he might appreciate so we stopped and looked.

I don't know what grade the students who made the works were, but one image startled me a bit. It was a crayon drawing of Cronos, drawn in crayon, quite accurately, from the famous Victor Montoya image below:



Ew.

I much prefer Ursa Minor eating a Peep in one bite and saying, "I swallowed it whole, mistaking it for my child."

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A moment of silence

I listened to Paul Harvey when I was younger and working with my grandpa.

I was always enrapt whenever I heard him come on the air. I haven't listened to him in quite a long time.

The one positive I can say about his passing is that I'm sure Grandpa is enjoying the rest of his stories.

Oh, and and for the completely sacreligious, Paul loved him a bong (questionable audio content)

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Tall Tales

Me: Let's go work on that packet from school.

Ursa Minor: What packet?

Me: You know, the one with all of the tall tales? With that hammer guy and the others?

UM: John Henry?

Me: Yeah, and Pecos Bill and Slue Foot Sue and Paul Bunyon. And all of them.

UM: And John McCain, right?

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Happy Valentine's Day

What a wonderful Valentine's Day.

The family took a short jaunt to Chicago. Not to visit the site of the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre. No, we went for a delightful afternoon of Theatre.

Mouse found that the Depaul theater school was having a performance of Alice in Wonderland.

It was a good show. We all enjoyed it very much. All in all, a delightful afternoon excursion.

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An Improvised Recipe

When I was a kid, I used to really like poached eggs served on toast. It was always so wonderful to cut into the egg and have the liquid yolk burst out and soak a butter slathered piece of toasted bread.

Then, in college, I discovered Eggs Benedict, complete with spring asparagus shoots and Canadian bacon. Hollandaise sauce became a mead of sorts.

After college, that KIPLog guy, who happens to be a chef trained food dude taught me one Easter how to actually make a Hollandaise sauce. The experiment failed, but I at least learned the fundamentals.

Since then, I've availed myself of using store-bought Hollandaise mix-kits whenever I've had a Hollandaise hankerin'. Sure, it's not as luscious as the real thing (but I still use Hellmann's when I want to mayo-up a sandwich because I, as a cook, to quote the outgoing President, have misunderestimated the fine art of emulsion.

Short story getting longer, make an occasional Eggs benedict for Mouse and I on some certain Sundays (or an off-chance Saturday). Ursa Minor still doesn't appreciate the wonder of liquid egg yolk as of yet, so he has yet to partake in the glory of it.

Today, though, I made something new.

Ingredients:

6 patties of Mr Dee's Hash Brown Potato Patties

One can of Spam

Two packets of Knorr Hollandaise sauce (and whatever it says on the pouch to add)

6 eggs.

First step: Begin preparing the Hollandaise sauce per the directions, adding a bit more butter if you would like.

Second step: Begin to brown the hash brown patties in one pan and slices of Spam in another pan.

Third step: Set a pot of water on to boil so as to poach some eggs.

Fourth step: Once the hash brown patties and the spam are adequately browned and the Hollandaise sauce is nicely thickened and the egg-poaching water is at a roiling boil, begin to poach eggs.

The set-up for this dish is relatively simple:

A slab of hash browns, fully browned, goes on the plate. On top of that, a slice or two of the sizzling Spam. Next, ladle on a jiggling poached egg. Then pour on a ladle or so of the Hollandaise.

Voila.

A heart-attack just waiting to happen.

Bon Appetite-o.

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Vacation...

Summer's a long time away. Sure, we had a thaw, but this winter's only just begun. And what better time than the bitter cold of winter to prepare for the days of summer?

In other words, it's my turn to choose where Mouse and I will go for vacation this summer.

I took a look at a map of the 48 states and thought long an hard on this one. I went for a warm weather clime.

Austin, TX it will be.

Any suggestions are warmly welcomed.

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