The Silence of Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
 
Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953 (excerpt)

My little peeping buddy is no more. I am once again stationed to my nocturnal listening of the moving of materials around me without the small joy of companionship he provided. Giving him a round of lettuce and water before bed he was scurrying around his duck 'condo' when I went to bed, but somehow succumbed to the darkness.

Since he arrived, he has been pretty quiet until about 2 am and like most infants, then wakes up and wants to play. He would peep-peep-peep and tap his beak against the glass rat-tat-tat style until I got up, brought him into my blanket (I am short on my laundry this week, not being super fond of the laundry mat experience) and then would go straight to the bottom where he would snuggle/peck at my feet the rest of the night. This arrangement, although providing me with a 'bedmate' of sorts, has not been really that perfect for my daytime workplace productivity afterwards I must say. I thought the last would be no different, but when I woke at 7am instead of 2am, to a much too quiet cage, I was concerned, one that was well founded. I am not sure why, as he was eating away and bouncy, but he did not make it the night. I was so sad.... that this little downy drop of cheer for me was gone, another petal plucked away from life it seemed and even though it was a little tiny duckling, it was life... something... life around me. Something that is really in need and which no one seems to care enough to provide anymore. Perhaps he was just too fragile for my care, as much as I tried. Rest well my tiny friend... I enjoyed you.

Another Mouth to Feed...

No, That's not what is for dinner, although I have enjoyed a good meal in the past of crispy duck.(shhhhhh!)

No, this little guy, who I so cleverly named Mallard (Malarrrd' ...it's temporary...until I figure out what to do with him) I suddenly met yesterday afternoon. With my car in the shop and walking home from my second job last night, I found him along the curve of a road just before the Mill where I am living at the moment. The mother looked as if she was hit by a car and as there was no others around, I picked this little shivering and peeping orphan up and put him into my breast pocket. It warmed him up and calmed him with my heart beat (In fact he is there right now as I am typing this) for the rest of the way. Setting up a little enclosure for him with heat and water and some finely chopped lettuce) he went right at it and enjoyed a good meal on the house. I think he is fine, but will need someone to 'mother him' for the time being. Having had a duck before, Ping (as highlighted on my 3/31/14 post The Power of Friendship on my other blog), I have some experience with them and what to expect and the care I need to give. Once they 'imprint' on you as the new 'mom', they are super affectionate and will stick with you like glue, following your every foot step. It is beyond cute.

Pretty much being alone these days on non working nights and with Hayden away hiking this entire week with his Mom, my little fuzzy friend here has provided some welcome company, even if the conversation is one sided for now. This morning after a short spell in a shallow end of my bathtub and a soft towel dry, he fell asleep right on the center of my chest, nestled in for a nap. No photos...sorry.

I think perhaps I have found a new friend along the journey of life. Someone to say good morning and good night to, to greet when I come in and look forward to sitting with and to share my warmth with. I have to say, I do not know if he is actually a he and not a she. In truth I would look forward to the magnificent plumage of a fully grown male Mallard, but am o.k. either way.

 As this Friday night is free (and tomorrow night this week as well) I have decided I will take him over to the 'duck' pond I used to go to in a small town nearby, to sit the next couple of nights where we could watch the other ducks for the evening and maybe even share a small picnic at sunset. Everything becomes much too hard in this loneliness, so perhaps I would meet another passionate duck aficionado for some much needed conversation and fellowship while there and learn a thing or two.  You never know who might be there... it is certainly worth a try. It could change life once again... it certainly did for him today.

The curve where he was waiting to say hi!

His new personal space.

D.I.Y.

When I first started this blog, part of what I talked about was sharing food with others, both in the preparation and enjoyment of eating together, but I also talked about a long held desire to share in the growing, raising and gathering of the same. Years back I had a garden on the property I still own, but soon after planting it, I became very sick with Bronchitis and a sinus infection, then immediately after that, left for a mission trip to the Navaho nation out in the four corners region of Arizona. When I returned, the garden was too far gone to recover. A garden shed replaced it's space the next year with even bigger plans, but they were never to be. I doubt it ever will now.

Having grown up with a sizable garden as well as greenhouse and studying horticulture in high school, I always had an interest and aptitude for it all. In more recent years, I reached out to others to 'share' in both the cost and effort in once again starting a de-facto co op, a garden, chickens, maybe more so to speak, but my ideas where rejected and I saw it was not really valued beyond my own mind and heart. It was a blow to my spirit.

My brother, who has a rural neighborhood lot, has in the past few years, planted a very nice garden and has generously shared his bounty. I have helped him out when I could and always enjoyed myself. Now being in a much smaller environment, I have taken what I could on a balcony space and grown a few small vegetables as I was able and continue to do so.

This past weekend I had the first chance this year to get down to our family summer home and while on the journey, stopped to see my brother. His garden was thriving in the early summer growth and he asked me to go out to pick some lettuce for the night's meal at the shore. Once again it was a fun and rewarding treat for me to gather for this particular meal that we were planning. He provided carrots from a previous harvest and Bluefish he caught fresh the day before in the Atlantic Ocean. The herbs I brought where ones I had wintered over inside on my windowsill and my Dad had lemons from a tree in his yard in Florida that he carried on his trip north for the season. Only the capers, which we do not have a bush of, were not provided from within the family.

It was a very delicious meal for the three of us, sharing together the things we each had and it just felt right... much like meals of the past when I was able to hunt and brought home meat for my family. There is a certain satisfaction in doing just that. Something that I will never find at a market, no matter how well stocked it it. I miss that, I miss the opportunity to do so. I miss the chances that were not taken and others missed. I miss doing it myself.

Comfortably Round

The terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Yes. One of those. I know this was the title of a comedic movie that was out a little bit ago, one that I did not see, but the title seemed applicable to yesterday. It is not many days on which you have a medical treatment, find out some very bad news, have to make some really difficult decisions and loose your job all within 6 hours (no, the job loss as devastating news as it is, was not even the very bad news), but as that was the string of events, starting at 1000 a.m.,  I think it would qualify for the above titles. It seems now there is no where else to go other than up. I hope. I cannot image the alternative.   

It started out as an absolutely beautiful day, but after I found I suddenly had the afternoon off, I was not in very much of a mood to cook, I have to confess now, that even with all of this effort that I put into these meals, on many days, while I am alone and am pretty much running from one job to the next to complete my 14 1/2 hour work day, I do not have the time to make something nice for myself. In that, I do not eat as healthy as I want to and succumb to the time constraints to purchase quickly prepared food on the run... you know what I am talking about. I hate that it is the place I am for I so much enjoy good food, food shared and prepared with others....with someone who would love to share a meal with me, talk and enjoy fellowship together or even (gasp), make one for me. Ha... what a thought! Yesterday, being in somewhat of a slump, I felt like doing the same if only for the lack of energy to get into the kitchen, but with even tighter budget considerations, I had to make due. Maybe comfort food would help. It couldn't hurt and as no one seems willing to anymore, as the phone sits silent and the doorstep is empty, the spatula might.

Finding inspiration on a friend's online recipe suggestions, I decided to maybe make something fun, interesting and wholesome to salvage the evening I thankfully had ahead of me with Hayden, even though he was sick. Using some ground turkey, I made meatballs stuffed with mozzarella cheese, coating them in wheat crumbs from crushed up crackers. Browning them and then cooking them into a gravy, I also found a bag of potatoes, cheese, peppers (I always seem to have them) and broccoli and took it another step and made Au gratin potatoes while I was at it. Photos below, 1st of the browned meatballs, then kitchen in mid preparation (notice the cool Gloche with my beautiful orchids... a gift from folks at work... no, not a parting gift, but from my other job), healthy goodness and my heart shaped pan Au Gratin. It came with the stove, but I like it. 

Preparing the Titanic

The title for this entry just came to me tonight mid preparation as I will explain below. I am not one to make lite of the Titanic disaster as anyone who has stood next to me at one of those carnival 'Titanic" slides knows. I find it disturbing that children now slide down the upended 'deck' into the 'water' having fun....something that clearly was not for the souls who did it for real all those years ago. To me, it would be like a 'jump out a window' bouncy chamber, fifty years from now in fun of a more recent national disaster. Any way, back to the food and off of my soapbox.

Stopping at the market after work on a rare evening off, I picked up some things for the week, but had no ideas for dinner. As I was putting stuff away, I knocked over a peanut butter jar and it came to me. Thai shrimp in a coconut peanut sauce over rice. Seemed doable, but I never have made it before on the fly.... by scratch.

I started some Basmati rice first and cut up a half each of a red and yellow pepper as well as some green beans and tanned the shrimp in some olive oil and a little garlic for a bit. Setting them aside, in some coconut oil I melted the peanut butter until it was liquid and spotted an orange on the fridge. I thought "that would go well in there"and squeezed a couple of slices in. It was amazing, the fragrance it gave off and it developed into a a wonderful foamy texture. In the very second I though I was a genius, the foam collapsed into a burned on foul smelling tar that I immediately had to take outside and put on my balcony to save my burning eyes.  Something was wrong. Another pan, oil, pb, orange slices, poof...perfection and immediate failure. The pans, dishes and spoons were all piling up ahead of me and I thought like I was preparing the last meal on the Titanic. It was a total shipwreck. Tempting a third strike, I made some serious adjustments to the temperature/time and was home. I added the shrimp back in, put it on the now Cumin dusted rice with the veggies and was done. Not as spicy as I had envisioned, but better than I thought.

With the accomplishment and failures behind me, I sat down to eat by myself at this computer to write this post. The view from my my desk down towards the creek at sunset saved my spirit from falling as I contemplated the wisdom of placing a sign along the road, 'Will make you dinner for your company', but I realized in in truth, once they saw the two burned pans outside the door, they probably wouldn't knock. The offer still stands though... will cook for company. 

The Veggie

The Shrimp           

Beauty before the Beast

A Day without

 After a really long, quite tiring week, one that left me with a some-sort of a tired/ ill/ stomachache/ headache kind of sleepless night last night, it was nice to see the sun shinning bright and the creek and birds providing a nice chorus to the morning. Usually today, Mothers Day as celebrated here in the U.S would mean for us sons or dads, a day of making our mother and/ or spouse feel a little bit more appreciated and special for the myriad of simple and wonderful things they do for us everyday without sadly, usually any notice.

For me today, a day without my own Mom among us anymore and without anyone else who would care to be celebrated with me, it was an odd day. Getting up late (9:00), I walked a bit up the hill to get a long view of the river, but was not up for breaking my steps in anything brisker than that. I took some time to remember the qualities that my Mom left behind in me and reminisce on celebrations of care and breakfasts in bed in my own family. It was a quiet morning, a quiet day.

Returning, I looked into the fridge and really did not feel like preparing anything significant, but after finding some turkey bacon, two waffles (yes...the frozen round ones...don't judge), some asparagus, butter and a lemon, I was more inspired and decided to make myself at least a decent breakfast. Using the egg yolks and butter for a Hollandaise Sauce, I whisked them with my meager whisk (in a twist between the palms build-a-fire-with-a-stick style) to twice their volume, as called for by my phone recipe and cooked the egg whites, topping it with bacon over waffles and asparagus along with the ever so delicious sauce.

I felt bad that I could not make it for someone deserving... a great Mom out there perhaps sitting in bed wishing for such a meal, but I had to resign to eating alone on the grass, by the creek with the water passing by to take my memories away. I do wish a wonderful day to those out there whom I know sacrifice so much for their children.

Biting the cook back

Bruton...our very green, very finicky house companion, sometime dinner company and general all around herbivorous good guy deserves a spot here too, as his meals get just as much (well almost just as much) attention as do our own.

As a green (I already said that) Iguana, he is strictly a vegetarian and a picky one at that. I said that too. In trying to also prepare interesting, attractive and delicious meals for him, I have done more than my fair share of research on what he might like to eat, what is nutritious for him, etc... etc... and have a pretty comprehensive list of veggies that work for him and the cycles in which I should serve them.

To present a mini smorgasbord for my little friend, we supply him with dark greens, such as collard or mustard or occasionally kale and green beans, adding in color in red and yellow peppers, carrots, sweet potatoes and mixing in small bits of fruits like strawberries, apple, blueberries and his favorite, grapes, which he seems to cherry pick with his nose, kind of like a kid going for the dessert first. Although I can't blame him, I have taken to separating and serving these last to make sure he stays healthy and happy. It makes Hayden happy that I do... and that makes me happy... of course.

He seems to enjoy his meals and when in the mood, chows them down with vigor, much like Hayden, but unlike me, mostly prefers to eat them alone in the Vivarium which I made for his habitat. He seems to enjoy it there, having a great view of the creek and as he sports a long, (I am told..painful) whip-like tail and lots of small, but very sharp teeth, I would like to remain firmly on a 'buddy' status with him. I do not like to be bit. 

 His personal space with a view of a beautiful snow this past winter.

Here he is hanging out in his palm 'tree', waiting to be fed.

Strolling the Left Bank

Yeah... I  wish it was THAT left bank, the one found on the River Seine in La Ville Lumi'ere, otherwise known as Paris, a place I have known and would someday love to know again, but more like a walk down to our local major river, the Schuylkill, which flows behind my place to explore and check out the bank debris after the winter. Left meaning, we turned left along the bank reaching it via the Sanatoga creek.

Afterwards.... a hearty meal was in order and the order was already in place, thanks to the slow cooker I got for Christmas. Having prepared it in the morning (actually browning the meat the night before) allowed us to just have fun without the pressure to get dinner together. We had a good time skipping stones, trying to aim them, doing slow motion videos and building a small, temporary (as the next storm will take it downstream) and informal Cairn.

No great recipe here, just a tasty one of some beef, potatoes, carrots, onions, herbs, Worcestershire, etc... and time left alone to do it's thing. After our spot besides the river, we walked along the creek and checked out the local flora and railroad tracks for interesting 'bits' left behind from a passing train as well as had a balancing challenge on the rails. I am proud to say I handily beat him on this one. As he said, "one of the few things I can still beat him at". I am still quite agile.... it seems.

Friday Night Breather

As a kid, I remember Friday nights (living in an entire household who either attended or worked within a school of some sort) being the solid, end to our (work) week. A weekend of fun and rest was ahead. Many times we would go out for a pizza or to our favorite German restaurant, or the weeks when my Mom cooked at home, it was a simpler meal and a fun night to rest, watch a movie together, play a game, have company over. These days, on my own, it is the only night in a week where I am not working or engaged in time with Hayden. As such and often finding myself quite tired after a long work week, and further not being one to get out on my own anymore, it is the quietest and certainly the loneliest night of the week. Often, I make a simple meal for myself and rent a movie or sit down to read or work on the computer and try to forget all of the thoughts swimming around within my head for a bit. Not my first choice for a Friday night, but it is... just the way it is.

This past Friday I sought out some company with old friends whom also both work in addition to having three children to care for. I thought perhaps it would energize me with a goal and provide some sorely missed friendly human contact and family type fellowship to offer to come and cook a meal for them to finish out the week. I was sure they were all tired and could use the break like me and they enthusiastically welcomed me to do so.

Trying to keep the menu mostly family friendly and tasty, I brought some chicken breasts, asparagus (pre-approved) and wild rice. Rolling the chicken in Panko crumbs and finely crushed walnuts, I fried it crispy in olive oil, then added in ginger, chopped orange pieces, a little Cumin and let it cook awhile while attending to the rice, etc.... When it was ready, I removed it all from the pan, added some orange juice to what was left and reduced it all into a glaze with some red peppers to top it off with. Everyone but the smallest at the table enjoyed it thoroughly, which is fine. Her small taste buds will develop in time I am sure.

Anyway, it was still a quiet night of hanging out, but at least with some other souls to talk and share it with. One small spot of time and place where my presence was appreciated and in fact along with my culinary contribution (and dish duty of course... what fun would it be to have someone cook for you if you had to then to the dishes, right?) was welcome. That was a nice change. You will note my photo is on a different dish set. In truth I took it in a hurry as everyone was hungry, etc...the china is theirs of course and the fancy orange garnish was gratefully prepared with little hands :)

Carrying Africa in a box.

Couscous. A very cool word for a dish if there ever was one. Couscous... It rolls of the tongue quote naturally and I remember the first time I ever heard of it was when my Mom was trying something new for dinner, way back in the late 1970's. She called it Biafran Couscous, and perhaps in her mind it was somehow associated with the short lived African state of that time....or maybe it was newly marketed that way, I don't know. I don't think I had seen or eaten it it again until while on a trip in the early 1990's that found me at the northern edge of the African continent in Tangiers, Morocco on a photo assignment. I have to say here that although technically a part of the African continent, I won't truly have considered visiting there until I can see an Elephant in the wild. A good goal I guess, but one that the possibility of is sadly vanishing.

I remember sitting in a very large, ornate and especially grand Moorish restaurant. It was an awesome occasion with music and dancers and waiters swirling around carrying large platters to the various tables with allot of flair. A grand dish of what I believe was camel (I would have been none the wiser either way if it was or not), was topped along with olive, dates onto a large and generous pile of vegetable and spice infused Couscous. Eaten while seated on intricate, padded carpets around a large, low square table as a group, with the hand (right of course) and a piece of unleavened flat type of bread, it was a very festive gathering and simply was just allot of fun.

The Couscous we have available here in my local area of the U.S, is a premade dried variety and is vastly different from the one served that day in Morocco, but is something readily found and is still a dish that is interesting, fun and opens our pallets in a new way. Hayden loves it and I was glad to be able to include it in our meal.

Today, I prepared chicken, browning it in herb infused olive oil and butter and setting it aside while I sauteed onion, garlic, tomatoes, olives and lemons in the same oil, adding the chicken back into the pot and then baked it with the other ingredients to seat a glaze onto/into it.

As was the tradition that day long ago, I topped the Couscous with the chicken and sides, adding a dab of Greek yogurt as fresh dipping sauce to it all.

The Art in Cooking

A recent trip with Hayden to a flea market near where I grew up was found to be a very fun day of discovering old things, some fun, some weird, some interesting, some bizarre and some beautiful. These simple cooking pieces I believe fell squarely into the last category, for they are not only fun and interesting, but beautiful in their intended function.

Much like a uber cool, worn, brass and leather, expandable spyglass that Hayden was able to bargain a purchase for (that is amazingly clear and brings things from great distance right into your eye), these three small items were all something that will readily find a place in my kitchen 'tool set' and be used well. The fact that they were well designed and are simply mini pieces of culinary art is just a bonus. After sorting through several bins of kitchen gadgets, all at buy two for $1.00, get one free, these three rose to the top of the list and in flea market fashion, were stuffed into a plastic bag, wrapped in newspaper. The fork is just cool, the spoon reminds me of ones I had seen in Asian kitchens and I am enthused to cook with it and the hand mixer is just plain awesome. A perfect example of functional art if I have ever seen one. Oh, if these three pieces could tell stories of their journey into my bag... the hands they have been in... the food prepared with them... the basements they might have sat in for decades. Who knows?  I photographed them with my iphone on a brown piece of silk fabric on the kitchen table with a single shop utility light (my kitchen pendant lamp) that I painted a creme color inside.

Now to start cooking with them.

Alfredo Mitty

"To see the world, things dangerous to come, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel. That is the purpose of life"

A Motto that adorned the wall in front of Life Magazine headquarters for decades while that wonderful and important piece of American culture was in print. A substantial magazine that I always enjoyed when I was young sitting in our gold, wing back 'reading' chair, but as I later in photography circles had the opportunity to meet and work with a few contributing photographers, I never did so myself.

So to tie this in to our meal other than to try new things in the kitchen, this one being homemade Alfredo sauce, there really is none other than it was a simple meal, adding in a movie... "The secret life of Walter Mitty"... A very fun and interesting whimsical film based on the short story by James Thurber. It involves a low level Life employee who has spent his entire career in the back dungeons of the negative (film) assets department who in the story thinks he misplaced a most important piece of film given to him by their premier photographer. In part desperation and part imagination, he sets out on a wonderful adventure to track the photographer and missing negative down, opening his eyes and heart to a larger world in the process. After traveling through some interesting and exotic locales, he eventually catches up with the elusive fellow, only to find, it was hidden within a gift he received before he even left. But the real story is his discovery of this other world and most importantly himself along the way. A self he never knew was there, drawing on those parts that he did not know existed and suddenly saw life in a different, new way.

Having been to, or near to some of the locations in the film, it was enjoyable for me to watch, also finding I somehow related to the photographer... maybe not because of what I have done, but because of what I wanted to do in my career. I suppose I was more like Walter Mitty I guess. Although I have been privileged to do some pretty amazing things in some quite 'exotic' distant locations, I never quite felt that special and always wanted to be like the photographer character I saw in the movie... elusive, fascinating, worthy of pursuit... and even though people would enjoy my stories, I always was just simply me in my own skin. That me... made a fun and delicious meal of Panko crusted baked chicken, placing it over simple pasta shells, topped with asparagus and a very yummy homemade Alfredo sauce, which in itself was layers and layers of cheeses, cream, garlic and herbs. That me and this dish, has to be enough for today.  

"Vedy Vedy good, dear Sir"

Words spoken to me as the bowl of 'parts' (misc chicken innards?) was placed before my plate with great pomp and ceremony. When my hosts then receded into another room to eat there without me, as seemed the custom, I opted for the rice and vegetable dishes instead, sparingly poking through the unknown to me, strange, tubular looking meat. Such is my experience while visiting India on a shoot many years ago. Wonderful invites to people's homes and a beautiful meal presented... to be left to dine alone or with my non english speaking liaison, Vijay. Delicious food (minus the 'parts')... but little company and fellowship. I felt they missed the point of dining. Kind of like their 'Yes' head bobble that looks more like a 'No' to this western raised man.

This attempt today, on a cold winter's night, was my first real foray in to making "honest and authentic" Indian food on my own. Hayden and I both love Indian, but cannot afford the luxury to eat out, so I stepped up to try something fun on my own.

Starting with loosely cutting the chicken into pieces, I dusted them with curry, salt and pepper and then lightly browned them in olive and coconut oil. Removing them from the pan, I sauteed ginger, garlic, onion and more curry until fragrant, adding the chicken back into it. Placing yellow peppers, a tomato and peas along with a little stock and Cilantro, I reduced it all to thicken and then topped it with some plain greek yogurt, dusting a little more curry with each step until it smelled like I remembered. On the side, steaming some Basmati rice with coconut milk, I fork fluffed it in layers with Coriander. A fresh lime on the plate to add a fresh spark and served with warm Naan from the oven.

It was a vedy vedy good meal, one that I would serve to an Indian friend... even if it was not loaded with chillies to scorch the earth. Hayden loved it, we ate together (as is our custom) and he went back for seconds. Still being the one armed man in his cast, (not caste) I did the dishes alone, much like a true Indian dinner.

The ingredients.

The chicken getting all curried up.

Goodness before hitting the plate. 

The old Dutch

Chicken corn chowder. Something I never even heard of until I moved to this particular part of Pennsylvania and even then, not until I was served some through an event at my children's school. I have not seen it elsewhere (not that I would have noticed if the truth be told) and I suspect it must somehow have some dutch/Amish roots perhaps to it as they have some historical influences in our area. I can't say that this is my favorite soup, far from it, but is one that is almost like a stew and well suited for this on going cold snap...if one can call this current period a 'snap' rather than just plain old wintertime. I like snow, I really do...you can readily see that from my other blog. I love it's quiet, sparkling decent from the sky, the way it lays on and decorates our trees and softly sculpts the ground so beautifully with rounded contours. That being said, I really am not that fond of the winter... meaning the bitter cold and the non-snow grays and browns that surround me when the earth is bare. I know those that are... those that are 'invigorated' by it and enjoy the icy blast into their nostrils, but I am definitively more of a summer person myself, preferring to be warm, and although I enjoy wearing a fun sweater, a good scarf and hat when necessary, I would rather be found sporting sandals and a short sleeved shirt.

Given my choice, I would have preferred to prepare what I call my "Savory Venison Stew", but not having the opportunity to hunt this year, I have no supply of deer and thus no stew. So... this soup was born out of what I happened to have on hand, was inexpensive, hearty and pretty tasty once I was done, which completed the mandate for a cold evening. In addition to the potatoes, bits of red pepper, corn, spices and grilled chicken, I added some asparagus for color and vitamins and because I love asparagus and because it was on sale. Sitting down to eat, in honor of our meal's imagined origins, we peppered our conversation with some local old time verbal flavorings, like ending a sentence with "don't ya know" or "as far as that goes". Doing so, I almost felt like changing my name to Amos... well... not really.

In it's pot bound infancy on it's way towards the bowl.

South of the Border

"Pedro says".... If you have ever have driven U.S. Route 95 anywhere near the vicinity of the North/ South Carolina border, you certainly know this saying. What I am refering to is that way-way-way over hyped up rest stop found just 'south of the border' between those two states. The billboards must advertise your approach from either direction for at least 100 miles and as a kid driving over winter break to Florida with my family, my brother and I took delight in seeing them and then pestering our parents to stop at this most classic of American rest stops. Sometimes we did, sometimes not, but once inside, it just never seemed to live up to the hype as promised.

These days, as most weeks find me at some sort of workplace or another pretty much 7 days a weeks and somewhere in the neighborhood of 65 to 75 hours, the available time to think about, plan, purchase groceries and prepare nice meals with intent is small. In doing so, I try to be inventive, variable and fun in finding recipes that can spur conversation, ones that we both would enjoy, ones to open up our world to a larger one with foods and cooking styles we might not be familiar with, or even to take treasured favorites and make them into something new and different and unexpected. It is a 'extra' task with my work schedule, but is just part of the things you sometimes have to do to keep good food on the table, along with a shelter over my family, clothes on our backs, etc...etc... you get the picture. This is a difficult time. Even within what I have asked myself to do (make a nice dinner for Hayden and I to have a personal meal time together) it is all very much worth the effort it takes. It is not just some empty hype as Pedro would extoll. Sometimes though, on some days, it just needs to be easier.

This meal is in that vein, is a much simpler one of Mexican heritage, but one that was good, non the less for the pallet. Simply a burrito, made with some good steak (thanks Charles for your gift), salsa (which I did make), sour cream, refried bean and cilantro. I added in a side dish of some mexican rice, which is not pictured here, but he and I both enjoyed our time together, him sharing his discovery a new phone game, 'Clash of Clans' in the process. It's an interesting game and we had fun, engaging in strategic fashioning of our little 'clan', in sharing this task together....and in being a part of building my tiny online town! Small things to enjoy with him. I miss playing these small games with friends and the little moments of connection during the day. All good things to share in addition to this good food for which we are thankful... all of which is important. 

Comfortable Freeze

Okay...So it is literally ZERO degrees outside right now and I am sure the howling wind swirling around out there is bringing down the 'chill factor' even below that point. Last night was no better and after being out and about in the weather taking care of errands (and literally running into and out of our stops to minimize our exposure), we needed something that was hot, filling, fatty and satiating. A plate full of potato filled perogies was the request I received when I asked "what do you feel like eating", so it was the request I was obliged to fufill. I know what you are thinking... and realize that this is not the healthiest meal on the planet, but is one that I enjoyed in my youth and one that my son does now as well. Having come in from the cold and not wanting to venture out again AND already having a bag of them in the freezer didn't hurt either.

First boiled for a bit to thaw them out (no, I did not make them from scratch) and then after frying up some bacon, I browned them crispy in the bacon fat and onions, adding the leftover fat to top them off, further adding sour cream and the bacon on top. I did sprinkle a little chives on top, but that did not make the photo and after sauteeing some brussel sprouts, I felt a little bit better about the total meal content.

Enjoying it thoroughly, sometimes maybe comfort just has to triumph eating the 'right' thing and making something with some umph and substance to fill the bones and body with heat on a super cold night is the 'right' thing in the moment...especially when one has to anticipate a cold bed lying ahead without a warm companion to do so. As they settled in to my body, they filled the bill as a stand in until morning arrived. Thank you Mrs. T, whomever you are, and Mr. Pig... and cow and farmer who grew the sprouts...you are all appreciated. 

M.A.K.

Sometimes... oftentimes anymore, it seems that when I try and move ahead, try and reach out in life, all that I find I can do is to pause and back up again, recede...retreat...hold myself inside and quietly accept what is. So in doing so once again, perhaps a  good place to start a recipe is to reach way back, to the hands of my grandmother, M. Adeline Knott, who I lovingly knew as Granny.

She was a really wise, cheery, quiet, humble person who I greatly admired and very much loved. Always, always offering a warm hug and something to eat, I often sought out her presence and enjoyed spending time with her and did so, even as a single man in my 20's in between breaks from photographic travelling assignments. She loved to hear the stories I brought home formed in the places I was back from and would often find humor and really delight in them and the 'adventurous' career I had in her mind. A true matriarch of our family, she was a pioneering and prosperous businesswoman in her lifelong career, was a kind person beyond compare and of course, a wonderful cook. Many treasured family recipes started with her and from those that she learned from. This dish is a take off of one of them...Sour Veal and Noodles.

For my version, I substituted chicken for the veal, making her traditional sauce of sour cream and paprika along with some other ingredients and sauteed cabbage (something she also served) for the noddles, completing it with a refreshing cold kale/goat cheese side salad. The flavors took me right back to her basic, but inviting kitchen from my youth and into some fond memories of what a nice place it was to be. After sitting down to eat, my thoughts were that I would only wish to be able to sit with her again. I would like my children to be able to do so... to have some continuity in our lives. Upon this reflection, I sadly reminded myself that there are always moments in life that we wish we could go back to, times we wished we could have a little more of. I have many such 'moments' myself and today, time with her is certainly one of them. 

Order's up!

Last night was a little different... After having broken two bones in his arm snowboarding this past weekend, Hayden was in less of a dine with me mood, it being replaced with a painful, I am just hungry now one. Perhaps less ambitious fare would have been more appropriate, but I deal with that enough when on my own and after having recently nearly choking on a piece of cellophane in a premade meal, with the ingredients already in hand and with my handwritten recipe slip, I pushed on, ignoring my own downcast mood and in the end was able to prepare a delicious meal. So...as neither of us were in the frame of mind to sit down at the table, we decided to have 'dinner theater' and to eat while watching a movie instead. Philomena...I would recommend it. A interesting and quiet film about loss at the hand of another and lifes sorrow and the yearning found from it all. In trying to introduce more thoughtful, but also appropriate movies beyond his prefered 'action' genre to him, it was a good choice to spur some honest conversation before bed.

Back to dinner: Finding this recipe combination also on the web (what a resource!), I modified it between two different ideas, both that sounded awesome. Taking chicken breasts, I cut a slit in the center and stuffed them with seasoned ricotta, wrapping them with applewood smoked bacon and coating them with a course mustard, honey and lemon glaze. I simply baked them, adding the drippings on top to serve. For sides, I sauteed shallots, thinly sliced brussell sprouts (it called for 'shaved' whatever that means...but I only have a knife), garlic and spices in bacon fat, adding chopped walnuts towards the end for texture. In addition, I sliced up some sweet potatos, steaming them with a little coconut oil, nutmeg and cinnamon. Timing of all of this in my tiny space to arrive on the plate, hot and excellently done together was a challenge as my prep surfaces are minimal. I see I will need to correct that somehow. Hayden was perfectly patient, but as he sat there, one handedly trying to play a game on his phone, I felt like a short order cook and could see he was ready to eat as soon as it came from the oven. So as I got it onto the plate (he had moved to the living room to set up the movie), I said "order's up" for some fun to try and break the mood.

Thankfully, the chicken was crispy on the outside, but wonderfully creamy inside with the ricotte and although the sprouts were a little over done waiting for the chicken (and not bright green as I had envisioned they would be for the photograph), they were super flavorful and a great compliment to the sweet potatos. It was a very good meal that certainly satisfied the pallet, even if it did not pull us up in spirits as was hoped. Bedtime was not too soon for us.

The ingredients prepped and ready to go taking up the entirety of my counter space. The sprouts in the pan and the color I was hoping for on the plate. Sorry for the cheap wooden flea market spatula...in spite of the name of this very blog...it is what I have.