Where I go when I'm discombobulated...

Cooking by the seat of your pants...

...as blogged by a dear ifriend (http://jodianncates.com/weblog/) is one of those things that has saved my sorry ass many times over the years. Even if my girls did sometimes poke what was on their plate with a fork and ask "What was this when it was alive?!" Working full time and having 2 growing kids and a diabetic husband to feed called for some creative cookery...and not a whole lot of time to get it done sometimes.

I learned to cook from my Mom, and she grew up on a farm in Minnesota...so there were a lot of plain "meat and potatoes" meals, but I also remember that she went to county extension service classes and brought home recipes for Pennsylvania Dutch cookery among many others. She also went to the county fair every year and picked up every recipe she could from all the "associations" represented there.

Dad wasn't thrilled about any variation from the regular fare, but us kids (me, 1 brother and 1 sister, plus various foster kids over the years) looked forward to some of the new and interesting offerings. We had chickens and ducks for eggs, plus the occasional stew hen (our ducks ran away from home, to live with someone else, LOL)...and we also raised goats for a while...they cleaned up all the blackberries around the property, then we ate them! I was heartbroken when they slaughtered them...they were my FRIENDS! They were, however, very tasty...sigh...even now I'm conflicted...

I don't think anyone could have been more excited than me when the CrockPot hit the market...what a concept! But Jeez! You had to plan ahead and have things ready to go into it first thing in the morning...and I'm not really a morning person...nor a planner-aheader...(see paragraph one)...but, when I DID plan ahead, we could have some great meals!

We currently have 2...one 6 quart, and one of those oblong ones for bigger roasts and such. I love, love, LOVE them! Soup, stew, beans, cheap cuts of beef or pork, chicken...yup, gotta love what it does. Between them and the microwave, it's SO much easier to put a good meal together...then I can spend all day playing on the interwebs and stuff, LOL!

One of my favorite dinners is a recipe Jen got from one of her friends, and then I "modified" it a couple of times. It's called Iowa Pork Steaks, and is found all over the web in numerous variations, usually baked in the oven.
But here's MY version:
 Brown some medium or thick cut boneless pork chops till they're nicely colored all over & set aside.
In the crockpot, mix 2 cans of Cream of Mushroom with Roasted Garlic Soup (I sometimes add about 1/2 a can of water), 1 packet of dry Onion Soup Mix, 2  good 'glugs' of Worcestershire Sauce and a cup or so of sour cream. Mix it all up together.
In the same pan you browned the chops, throw in some butter and a box or 2 of sliced mushrooms and cook them till they smell so good you want to eat them right NOW...pour them into the crockpot with the rest of the sauce and mix them in. Plop the chops into the pot, and try to make sure they're sunk into the 'gravy'. Spoon some over the tops if needed. Clap the lid on and cook for 6 to 7 hours on LOW. Serve up with some mashed potatoes or buttered noodles. OMNOMNOMNOM!!
This recipe also works extremely well with boneless skinless chicken breasts...but I leave out the Worcestershire and add some whole roasted garlic cloves (there's no such thing as too much garlic in our house).

I should probably also tell you that the seasoning of choice here is Morton's Nature's Seasons, I honestly don't know how I ever cooked without it! So...there you go...try it, you'll like it! Tomorrow I'll give you my recipe for 'Alicious Crocodile!

Squish...

...squish, squish...it's gettin' kinda soggy here... This was posted on one of our local news websites (KATU) :     " By the way, if you're counting 23 out of 24 days this month have had rain. At  27 days it will be a new record for most number of rainy days in March."  And it appears that we're well on our way to making that record...guess what's in the forecast???
Oh well...Spring in Oregon...one long wet season...I've got pork chops to stick in the crockpot, and I think I'm gonna make a cake. So dinner will be comfort food and SUGAR! LOL...
I decided NOT to go to the Scrapbook Convention...I've got enough stuff for now, and Boo has her money tied up in her wedding, so it's just best all around if we stay away from temptation!
Have a great weekend, try to stay warm and dry wherever you are!

Psyched...

...no, not Psycho...well, not a LOT, anyway! We just ordered a HealthMaster (Montel Williams) blender/emulsifier thingy!
It'll take about a month to get here, I guess...but I'm already excited about it. We've been thinking about a Vita-Mix for quite a while, but Jeebus, they're SO freakin' expensive! This thing has pretty much the same power and does the same things, but is less than 1/2 the price. Plus they had a web special with free shipping, and that pretty much sealed the deal. So I'm looking forward to lots of smoothies with fresh fruit and yogurt and fresh spinach all whirled together in our new toy. Plus it makes soup, ice cream & sorbet, sauces and lots of other yummy stuffs too. Do any of my (many, LOLOLOL) readers have one? I've read a lot of reviews, and they really run the gamut from absolute "Oh this has changed my life" praise to "don't EVER buy this crap!" so I'm not sure what to believe...guess we'll just have to wait and see for ourselves.
So, not much else going on here in rainy PDX...lots of daffys coming up, and flowering trees starting to bloom (sniff, snort, HONK-excuse me while I wipe my watering eyes)...but Spring is definitely here! I made buckwheat waffles (Bob's Red Mill) and sausage patties for dinner tonight...NOM! Plus PB bought some Red Raspberry Syrup last time we were at the Mill store...and that is DELISH! It'd be really good on some ice cream too.
I can't decide if I'm going to go to the CK Scrapbook Convention this weekend here in town...I've been to a couple of them a few years ago, but I have so much paper and other stuff now and I know I'd just find something more I HAD to have...sigh... Maybe my granddaughter wants to go, LOL...that's a good excuse, right?
Have a happy/soggy/springy Thursday...  :)

Happy St. Paddy's Day...

...it's good to be Irish...even if it's only one day a year, LOL! If I had any Guinness, I'd drink it, but I'm fresh out, as they say. And since I'm the only one who likes it, there's not really any point in buying a 6-pack. I don't like beer-beer (except poured over a pork roast while it's cooking) but I do like stouts and porters. Cream stouts especially...I get Widmer Bros. Drop Top every once in a while, and it's yummy. Plus we have the McMenamin Bros. all over the place, and they brew some AMAZING things, like their seasonal specialties. McMenamins Seasonals  And their Ruby Ale, flavored with Oregon raspberries is soooo good, and I like their Terminator Stout and Black Rabbit Porter as well.
And then they have things on their menu like High Pasta:  Linguine tossed with fresh spinach, garlic, tomatoes, & roasted hazelnuts in brown butter with Parmesan cheese...OMG, it's good!
So we had our Irish Dinner a night early...and a day later than I'd planned, LOL...but it all worked out in the end!

Roasted chickie with lots of garlic...

and Colcannon

OMNOMNOMNOM!

Have a good Thursday...remember to wear something green!

The "Oven Mitt" Incident...

...aka the story (OK, one of several) that will outlive me, probably. Sigh...
I've been thinking about kids a lot lately, mine and other peoples...and how they can sometimes drive us to the very BRINK of our sanity and we have to scramble for a toehold or handle or...something. So here's a snapshot of one of the times I was really teetering close to the edge:

First you have to understand that my husband died Dec. 6th of 1978, right before Jen's 8th birthday (and Christmas)...so things were in an upheaval at our house for quite some time...in addition, my boss died suddenly of colon cancer in early 1979 and I was "promoted" to a position I was seriously unprepared to handle, we found out our Great Dane Victor (husband's dog) had congenital heart disease and was allergic to the medication, so we had to put him down...in August of 1979, my Dad finally died of the brain tumor that had gone undiagnosed for 12 years. Yeah, there was some stress. I thought I was handling it pretty well, you know, "keep on keepin' on" sort of stuff...and really, when you have children, you can't just STOP and take time to regroup or whatever. Life Goes ON...and participation is required.

At any rate...I came home from work one evening (probably late-1979) and was in the kitchen making dinner when I heard a huge commotion coming from Jen's bedroom, just down the hall from the kitchen. So I stop what I'm doing and rush in to see what the problem is...and here are both my girls, standing in the middle of the bed...their little girlie fists all bunched up...just dukin' it out!
I lost it...I didn't realize I still had on the pair of oven mitts I'd been using in the kitchen, but I took them off my hands and proceeded to smack both girls with them, yelling "How dare you hit each other?!?!"

The girls stopped, looked at me, back at each other...and then just turned and stared at me...
As I recall, I ran back through the kitchen, dropped the oven mitts on the counter on the way into the living room, dropped into a chair, put my head in my hands and thought "It's finally happened...I've lost my mind!"
I'm not sure what the girls thought, but they were very quiet for the rest  of the evening...and gave me a wide berth...

We all survived my little "lapse", and all the other things as well, and just got on with our daily lives...this is what families do. For many years, it was the 3 of us against the world...and we did OK. There were some horrid times, and there were some good times...and we came out the other side stronger, I think, for having been through them. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, but we are who we are because of what we've been through together.

We often laugh (well, some of us more than others) about this now...and have been known to ask "Do I have to get the oven mitts out?" when arguments start, LOL. It's an inside joke, certainly, but it's one of those things that makes us "family".

Maybe next time I'll tell you about "This is Telephone in Rosemary Services."

So...I have this other kid...

...Kate, the older of my two (by 15 months). And we were having a phone conversation last night about HER daughter, who's planning her wedding for this coming June...

Kate: "...I swear, I love her to death, but sometimes............you're biting your tongue, aren't you?"

Me: "mmmmphthph..."

Gotta love Karma...

OK...I'm all packed and ready to go...

...on a Guilt Trip.
Not really, but I've taken my share over the years...and I finally decided they weren't worth the time and effort involved!
My daughter Jen and I had a conversation a couple of nights ago that made me start thinking about this... She spends a lot of time in internet Chat Rooms, and had said something which another person got all "verklempt" over. It wasn't anything bad, just a passing comment, but the other individual decided it was directed at them, and was all hurt and hostile over it. It wasn't even about them, but they took it that way. Jen said she felt bad now, and hadn't meant to cause any hurt feelings or drama. I told her she had nothing to feel bad about and that she should just ignore the other person's attempts to make her feel guilty...
a) It's not all about you, and b) really, it's NOT all about you!
"Look what you made me do!", or "See how bad you made me feel!" Nope, sorry...can't lay that blame on my doorstep. Time to stop manipulating and step up and take responsibility for yourself and how you feel. I don't need anyone to make me feel guilty about things I've said or done, I manage to do it quite well on my own, thanks! Many times I've packed up my own luggage and gone on a long and arduous guilt trip without any prompting...I just try real hard not to do it anymore. I don't always succeed, there are things that I still wish I could un-do and un-say...but I can't. So I move on...hopefully a better person for knowing that I screwed up, and having learned from it.
As for Jen, that particular person has managed to really tick her off now, LOL...by continuing to try to stir up drama where there really wasn't any. So she's not feeling guilty now, just PISSED! LOL, I love my Mouse!

Cow Something...it's what's for dinner...

Asbestos Gelos...

...is a survival tool that every one of us should keep in our arsenal. I present the following as an example...

“My Cretan connection began the summer I was wandering around Europe alone while waiting for my wife to finish her medical residency.  No particular agenda just doing what came next.  I went to Crete to see the famous archaeological digs at Knossos and to look in on a graduate school program at the Orthodox Academy of Crete.  When I was ready to step off the paths beaten down by tourists, I went to a small village at the western end of thee island- a fishing village at the end of the road: Kolymbari.
      I found a room for the night and rose before the sun the next morning to go running.  The day was already hot, so I dressed only in black running briefs and shoes.  (It’s relevant to the story to note there that my hair and beard were white even then.)  My route took me past the main kofeneion (coffeehouse) of the village where men sat outside socializing.  They ignored me.  I was surprised.  They seemed surly, hostile, and unwelcoming.
      Later, when I mentioned this to my landlord, he said, Oh no, Cretans are very welcoming to strangers- it is an old tradition – philoxenia.  But in your case the men at the kofeneion did not know what to make of you.  For one thing, your hair and beard make you look like a priest, but they have never seen a half-naked priest running through the village in what looks like his underwear at that hour of the morning.”
       “Oh.”
     “No problem.  Smile, wave, say good morning in Greek: Kalimera- kah-lee-mare-ha.  You will find them friendly.”
     “Right.”
(Pause)
       See this from the point of view of the men at the Kofeneion.  They have been gathering here at dawn for years without disturbance or distraction.  Suddenly, without warning, a white-bearded, half-naked priest flashes by.
       “What the hell was that, Yorgos?”
      “Darned if I know.”
      “Tourists get weirder every year.”
      The next morning I set off running with goodwill toward men in my heart.  Ready to greet the villagers.  The men at the Kofeneion see me.
       ” Yorgos, Look, here he comes again.”
       Hold that moment.  As I said, my appearance was a bit of a surprise in the first place.  Then there is the fact of my miserable language skills.  During the night, my brain changed Kalimera (good morning) to calamari, which means “squid.”
     And then there was the problem of waving.  I did not know that Cretans wave with a gentle gesture of an upheld, closed-fingered hand, backside out, palm in.  I didn’t know that the All-American hearty wave- arm extended, fingers open- is equivalent to giving Cretans the finger- ”Up yours!” in other words.
      To continue:  Here I come.  Running by the Kofeneion, I shouted, “Calamari, Calamari, Calamari,” and gave my most enthusiastic open-handed wave to all.
     The Cretans heard, “Squid, Squid, Squid” and saw “Up yours!” from the priest in the underpants.
     Well,  They fell out of their chairs laughing.  And shouted “Calamari, Calamari, Calamari” and enthusiastically waved  “Up yours!” back at me.  More than pleased, I ran on- thinking that these are truly friendly people after all- my kind of guys.
       The men in the kofeneion could hardly believe what had happened.  “What planet did he fall off of?” they wondered.  And of course they did what you and I would do next.  During the day they told their friends about the bizarre stranger’s dawn appearance.  And when their friends didn’t believe them, they said, “It’s true.  come see.  Have coffee in the morning.

      And sure enough, here I come again.  I did notice that there were quite a few more men having coffee than yesterday.
       “Look Demetri.  I told you.  Here he comes.  Shout “squid” at him and give him the finger and see what he does.”  So they did and I did and so on.  Funny, rowdy laughter all around.
      As I ran on by, I turned and gave them the All- American sign for “OK” thumb and forefinger forming a circle.  They laughed even harder and gave me the “OK” sign back.
      Wonderful!
      Word gets around.
      “You’re kidding. No, come see.”  The next morning even women and children were there to greet me.
     But that same morning, just after I passed the coffee house, a middle-school English teacher stopped me in the street.  Serious young man, visibly upset.  “Excuse me,” mister, you are making a jackass of yourself, and those idiots at the kofeneion are helping you.  You should all be ashamed.  You are setting a bad example. What will the children think?”
     “What’s wrong? What have I done?”
      “In the first place, he said, no self-respecting Cretan man would ever go out of his house and into the village dressed as you are.  Immodest.”  He went on to distinguish between calamari and Kalimera, and explained the fine points of correct waving.
      Finally, he wanted me to know that the sign for “OK” in America was the sign Cretans use for telling someone to stick their head up their own rear end.  The road-rage gesture in Crete.  A serious provocation that could lead to shots being fired.  He conceded that good friends might use it as a perverse joke.  But strangers? Never!
     I felt bad.  I glanced back at the men at the kofeneion.  Sheepish grins.  Now they knew I knew.  And I knew they knew. And so, now what?  I walked away puzzled: Should I leave the village, find another running route, apologize, what?
     But I couldn’t ignore one unambiguous fact:  the laughter.
     What had happened was funny.  The laughter was real.
    Actually my best American friends and I would have reacted in the same way.  These Cretans still seemed like my kind of guys.
      During the night my brain sorted out the problem.
      At first light I was clear in my mind what to do.
      I donned my running shorts and added to my costume a T-shirt with the blue and white Greek flag on it.  Here I come.
      Solemnly, the coffee drinkers watched me approach.  No gestures.  As impassive as the first morning.
      “Look, here he is again, Yorgos. What do you think he will do now?”
       "Is he angry with us?”
      “Who knows?"

      To prepare for this occasion, I had asked my landlord how to insult Cretan men in a way that’s permissible only among good friends- the grossest thing- trusting you know you are kidding…..
    "Call them malackos….it is shall I say, a suggestion of masculine inadequacy….”
      As I got to the kofeneion, I slowed down.
      I stopped.  Faced them.
      A tense moment.  Friend or Foe?
      I smiled.  “Calamari.” Then I waved, American style: “Up yours!”  and growled malackos at them, while slapping my palm against my wrist…. and stood there grinning, but with heart pounding- afraid I just might get the hell beat out of me.
     The  kofeneion erupted with laughter and applause.  A chair was provided.  “Come, come. Sit.” Coffee, brandy, and a cigarette were offered. And with their minimal English and my feeble Greek we retold and reenacted the joke we had made together- from their point of view as well as mine.  Above all, they thought my way of handling the situation- the in-your-face-with-humor- had Cretan style.  Arrogant.  Only a true friend would be so audacious.
      I was, after all, their kind of guy- and they were mine.
      It seems there was an opening for the Village Idiot, and I filled it.
    That was the beginning.
     For a long time they knew little about me except that I was a fool and a laugher  who understood something about the humor and social courage of Cretan men.  To me they became friends with names like Yorgos, Manolis, Kostas, Nikos, Demetri, and Ioannis.  To them I became the Americanos, Kyrios Calamari-  the American, the honorable Mr. Squid.
      As I say, I have been going back for more than twenty years.  They have included me in  the life of the village- feasts, weddings, gossip, baptisms, wine-making, and olive harvest.  My clumsy Greek amuses them still.
      I return each year in part because I expect laughter- from their timeless jokes and stories that are often raw and reckless and wicked.  Jokes about old age, and sex and war and stupidity, jokes that mask fear and failure and foolishness. Their laughter is not cautious.  Without this laughter the Cretans would hot have survived their travails and tragedies across the centuries.  Cretan laughter is fierce, defiant laughter, an “Up yours!” to the forces of death and mystery and evil.
     They have a word for this laughter: Asbestos Gelos. (As-bes-tos yay-lohs)
     A term used by Homer actually.
     It literally means “Fireproof laughter.”
     Unquenchable laughter.  Invincible laughter.
     And the Cretans say that he who laughs, lasts.
    And they have been around for a long, long time.

This is one of the stories from Robert Fulghum's book "What on Earth Have I Done?", and 'borrowed' from the blog Heart to Heart . I know that many people find Fulghum's writing "simplistic", but there are many occasions when the "simple" view is the truest view. So many times over the years I have read something of his that absolutely jumps up and smacks me in the head and makes me THINK. And sadly, sometimes I need to be reminded...but if it wasn't for Asbestos Gelos, I couldn't have gotten this far through life! I just didn't know it had a name...