My first attempt at homemade English muffins.Nooks and crannies, toasted and buttered.
I’ll be brief. Here’s the recipe for no-knead English muffins. Special stress baking edition. They were really easy and absolutely delicious. I simply followed the instructions, and they came out great!
You’ll need bread flour. The dough rises about five hours at room temperature. Then you’ll dollop out muffin-sized bits of dough onto a sheet tray, and your little treasures will spend the night in the refrigerator before you cook them, so plan accordingly.
We picked up an order from a different grocery store today. We couldn’t find the pick-up point, but one of the guys dragging carts around in the parking lot told us it was by the rear entrance to the store. Once we got there, everything went smoothly.
Among the goodies today were romaine lettuce and fresh spinach. My eyes got misty at the sight of romaine. Oh, how I long for the days when romaine was the most dangerous thing that came out of a grocery store.
As we speak, Dale is doing an online order from the liquor store. In my professional expertise, an early afternoon pick-up time is ideal. Late enough to linger around in the morning but not so late as to interfere with happy hour.
Still hanging tough. It’s pouring rain today. An absolute deluge. We need it, but really? It seems like pretty soon we’ll be boarding in twos.
Our first order from Amazon Fresh delivered to our doorstep.
Shopping
We got our first delivery from Amazon Fresh. I believe you have to live near a Whole Foods store, which was a requirement on my retirement location spreadsheet.
Go me.
Amazon has two ways to shop at Whole Foods, and honestly, I don’t understand the difference, but I got what I wanted. Fresh raspberries, radishes, our favorite bacon, salmon and other goodies.
One item I ordered was a boneless ribeye steak. We usually split one. Was it as thick as we normally get? No, but hey, it’s a steak!
I liked the experience because they tell you whether it’s in stock before you complete the purchase. The packages were delivered within a two-hour window with no personal contact. Not even a ringing of the doorbell, which is fine with me.
Later we went to pick up an order at the Safeway. I drove to a designated spot, called the number posted there and popped the trunk. A few minutes later a guy put the groceries in the trunk and waved bye. No contact. They were out of oatmeal and hot sausage, but they substituted regular sausage. No substitutes for oatmeal.
Dale has entered the acceptance phase of his grocery store grief and is helping me with the tasks. He’s the supply chain guy, and he’s teaching me how to do it efficiently. I’m keeping a log of what I’ve ordered and assuming some things might not be available, I’m checking them off as they come in. Also keeping a running list of items we might need soon.
We have enough toilet paper, but I’ve been on the lookout just the same. Target claims they have some in stock, but you have to go into the store. This morning I found it on Amazon – a popular national brand – and theoretically it will be delivered next week. My days of treating toilet paper like party streamers are over. No details, of course, but it’s like my ass knows there’s a toilet paper shortage.
BAking
Oh, and I guess everyone is baking! We have plenty of flour, but thinking ahead, I ordered more AP and bread flour from King Arthur. Shipping is three to four weeks out, but that’s fine for us. I had some pastry flour in the freezer. I forget what I bought it for. I used it to make cinnamon hand pies this morning.
Reading
I successfully downloaded a book for my Kindle from the public library … the first of the Walt Longmire series by Craig Johnson. I liked it and want to read the rest, but I like to read them in order, and the next one wasn’t available as a digital download. I don’t want to pay for it, so I got another Jack Reacher by Lee Child. He can be a bit violent for me, but so far, so good. This one is “The Midnight Line.”
At the recommendation of writer Ann Patchett, I purchased (for $0.99) “The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane” by Kate DiCamillo. It’s a children’s book, and I loved it. In fact, it’s a quick read, so I may read it again today. I highly recommend this book if you haven’t read it. Quite uplifting!
I’ve been reading more than watching, although I look forward to every Sunday, when a new episode of Outlander arrives.
We’ll need to replenish the liquor soon. That’s when I learn about just-in-time delivery.
Dale’s yeast rolls, which we had with baked beans and cabbage salad.
Note: This post is longer than usual, but I thought it might be helpful to read through the details of our excursion to the grocery store. I have no way of measuring the effectiveness of our approach or whether it is even necessary. As always, proceed at your own risk.
Although we are in good shape as far as food and supplies go, we hoped to buy fresh produce and fill in a few other gaps … with dare I say it … a trip to the grocery store. We want to eat well but also want to do what we can to avoid getting this virus.
We read articles about how to shop safely during the coronavirus pandemic. We tossed ideas back and forth. Much of our strategy is based on guesswork.
I was in favor of curbside pick-up at the store or home delivery. Dale was skeptical of quality and wanted to see what stores actually had in stock before subscribing to that plan. Personally, I was not worried about getting a bruised cucumber considering the alternative.
My next favorite option was going early. Our favorite store announced they would be open from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m. on Tuesdays and Thursdays for those 65 and older. Dale is 70, so he qualifies, but I am 64. I didn’t imagine they would check IDs at the door, but we’re the sort who never have more than 10 items in the 10 items or less lane.
If they did check IDs, I would say I was his caregiver. Ha!
Dale envisioned a line of old people at the door starting at 6 a.m., and he could not see how that was particularly safe. Under normal conditions, he goes to that store almost daily, and he said the least crowded time was about 2:30 p.m. I trusted his judgment and said OK.
The other question for any in-store experience is whether you go solo or together. Most of the articles I read said go alone. Dale is theoretically at higher risk, but he was itching to go. I was worried about him touching stuff. We ended up going together.
I have one tiny bottle of hand sanitizer, but I have a box of vinyl disposable gloves. Antibacterial wipes are nowhere to be found, but I made a little batch of makeshift wipes by soaking paper towels in a mixture of water, isopropyl alcohol and coconut oil. I divided the folded stacks, stuffing them into quart-sized Ziplocs.
Although I have no idea whether the wipes actually work, it seems like they should. Perhaps better than nothing.
I did not take a purse but wore a raincoat with big pockets.
I had three cloth shopping bags, a Ziploc of makeshift antibacterial wipes and
my tiny bottle of hand sanitizer. Two disposable gloves, just in case. Dale had
two gloves as well.
We did all our eye-scratching, throat-clearing and generalized spewing before we got out of the car. No face-touching until after we got home and washed our hands. We pulled into the parking lot, which was mostly empty! My guy knows his store.
We agreed in advance Dale would wear gloves to push the cart around and open refrigerated cases. I would not wear gloves, but I would be the one to touch the food and put it in the cart. My thinking was if I had worn a glove and touched a contaminated product and then touched the next product, the glove wasn’t much of a help.
I had the list divided into general areas of the store – cheese, milk, meat, condiments and produce. That’s the route we would normally take anyway. We had a plan of attack, and we executed with precision.
There were 20 items on our list, and we were done in 10 minutes. It was like we were on Guy’s Grocery Games, where the winner has to find all the items on the list while the clock is ticking.
With the exception of paper goods and some cleaning supplies, we were pleased with availability. Granted, we aren’t looking for frozen pizza. We got everything on our list:
Whole milk mozzarella
Sliced Swiss cheese
Yogurt
Pickles
Sauerkraut
Green olives
Black olives
Ground meat
Dish soap
Olive oil
Triscuits
Pretzels
Broccoli
Ginger root
Iceberg lettuce
Avocados
Cucumber
Zucchini
Cilantro
Apples
There were a few other shoppers, but no one got close. There
was no one in line at our check-out. The clerk asked if we found everything we
needed, and I said, “You seem to be out of hand sanitizer.” That got a good
laugh. Gee, I hope laughing doesn’t spray germs!
Anyway, we got out of there. I unloaded the bags into the trunk. Dale dropped off the cart and removed his glove before opening the car door. I gave each of use a healthy squirt of hand sanitizer. When we got home, I brought the groceries in from the car.
I put the bags on the floor not the counter, and we washed our hands. I had placed a beach towel on the counter, and I unloaded the bags into the towel, using my wipes to clean the items with non-porous packaging.
Then I threw the grocery bags and the towel into the washing machine.
Geez, I think that’s it. We were both happy it was over. No real way to know at this point whether it worked, but it seemed safe to us. We did the best we could based on what we think we know.
I have no images from the war zone, but I added a picture of Dale’s yeast rolls, which were tender golden pillowy puffs of perfection. This is why we care about food and shopping!
We are continuing to discuss our grocery shopping options, including online ordering. Our neighbor, who is much younger, also offered to shop for us. As for meals, we’re looking at what’s the most perishable, and starting from there.
My mother’s recipe for stuffed cabbage rolls. … with my additions!I use kitchen twine to tie my rolls. They hold together better and are easier to shuffle around in the cooking liquid. The rolls are in and just starting to simmer. Cover, and they’ll take a couple of hours to cook.
We’re finally getting some rain today, hoping for the March Miracle, but so far, it doesn’t look as though we’ll get much. Still, I promised Dale I would make my mother’s stuffed cabbage rolls if it rained. I just can’t get into it if the weather is nice. I’m still hoping for a downpour.
My mother was not a good cook. She loved convenience foods, and some things were just too exotic for regular consumption. There was one tiny bottle of olive oil that lasted my entire childhood. We ate instant mashed potatoes from the box or little white ones from a can. I don’t think I tasted a fresh potato until high school, when my sister and I both started cooking.
One of the few things she made from scratch were stuffed cabbage rolls. An homage to my Slavic roots. Dale loves them, even though his ancestors are from England. I still use the recipe on the index card my mother gave me, but I have notes all over the back of it.
I should probably type up the recipe as I make it these days,
but I like seeing my mother’s handwriting. And I love the ambiguous directions.
Half a small glass of white vinegar.
Cook until done.
I used to worry about it – too much? Too little? Now I take out what looks to be a small glass, and I fill it half-way up with vinegar. Then I cook them until done.
Mother knows best.
Her cabbage rolls were pretty bland, but that was by design.
They were a side dish for special occasions, like Christmas or Thanksgiving. Dale
and I eat it as a main dish. I use venison or bison instead of ground beef and
lots of spices. Dale likes it with dark bread and butter, although the dark
bread options here are slim. We’ll just make do with whatever he can find.
Beer is a nice accompaniment. We’re currently featuring Fresh
Squeezed IPA from Deschutes Brewery in Oregon.
My cinnamon hand pie.Dale grilling tomatillos and peppers for Chile Verde.Tomatillos and peppers grilling for Chile Verde.
The weather turned unseasonably warm and dry, although it’s chilly in the morning and evening. We need the rain, and actually, I’m a precipitation convert. I like it now that I’m retired and can stay home and be cozy.
Politics is maddening and depressing, so I’m trying to ignore it and focus on simple pleasures. Mostly food, with exercise thrown in, because, you know, the food …
Exercise
My favorite golf course is much more enjoyable when it’s dry, so I’m playing all I can before we get another downpour. I always walk … a good five miles. I’m amazed by the number of able-bodied people who take a cart on a walkable course. The same people who wait 15 minutes for a parking space closer to the store.
The swimming pool at my fitness club is lovely, although I witnessed an altercation there this week. I was quietly swimming laps, imagining I was in the Caribbean, when I heard a ruckus. I stopped mid-lane to discover the lady next to me yelling at the guy one lane over. The woman does not swim but runs and hops around in the pool to music.
Apparently, she didn’t like where the guy was about to start swimming. He had his own lane, but I guess it was too close for comfort. He suggested they switch lanes to give her more room, and she suggested he go to the other side of the pool (or somewhere else). I stayed out of it, returning to the bliss of the Caribbean. Good grief, people. Chill out.
When I finished my swim, it appeared neither compromised in any form or fashion, so then I began to wonder if they were married. Ha, ha.
Food
The warmer weather somewhat foils my winter cooking plans. Still on my agenda are stuffed cabbage rolls and a casserole made with layers of sauerkraut, rice, ground pork, smoked sausage, bacon and sour cream. I know. A weird artery killer, but dag, it’s good.
The New York Times charges extra (beyond the basic subscription level) to access most of its food section, but this feature on one-pot wonders seems freely accessible. I print internet recipes and put them in a three-ring binder. Easier than a scrapbook.
Although I’ll need more rain or at least a cold snap to make this recipe, Dijon and Cognac Beef Stew looks spectacular. I love this quote from the recipe’s author:
“Whoever said cooking should be entered into with abandon or not at all had it wrong. Going into it when you have no hope is sometimes just what you need to get to a better place. Long before there were antidepressants, there was stew.”
Regina Schrambling
I finally made cinnamon hand pies from “When Pies Fly” by Cathy Barrow. While I’ve tried crust recipes from Martha Stewart, Rose Levy Beranbaum and the rest, I never mastered all-butter crust until I did it Cathy’s way. Everything is cold, and you use the food processor, but it doesn’t come together in a clump. You squish the dough together afterward in plastic wrap, roll it into a block and then refrigerate overnight.
Super yummy! Of course, I made that all-butter crust, but I think it would be easy to use any crust, including store-bought, and a simple filling of brown sugar, a bit of flour, cinnamon and nutmeg to taste. Add just enough melted butter to make a crumble and use a cookie scoop to fill the pie before pressing down the edges of the crust with a fork. Vent the top. I baked mine at 400 degrees for about 25 minutes.
As the weather seems to be transitioning, kind of cold but kind of not, Dale figured out how to make the best of both worlds. A hearty Chile Verde and homemade flour tortillas for a chilly night … but … with some outdoor prep time in the sun when the temps were in the 60s!
Compromise. Just another pro tip for relationships and cooking.
The library was closed for the MLK holiday. I had a vision of all the librarians whooping it up on a yacht somewhere. On Tuesday, the library reopened, and I procured new reading. I showed up at the house with books in hand and Dale said, “Oh, they’re back from the party barge?”
Winter makes me want to curl up inside the house, but I’m forcing myself to continue with walking and golf. It’s funny – swimming has turned out to be one of my favorite cold-weather sports. The pool at my fitness club is 85 degrees, and it’s like swimming in the Caribbean. I am amazed by those who continue to swim laps in the cold pool, which is 78 degrees.
Dale and I both developed unnecessary habits right after Halloween. We had a bunch of candy leftover and started to take a little bowl to bed every night. They’re miniature! They don’t even count! Dale calls it “Night Food.” We both had to stop that nonsense.
All so we can continue to eat well! There is nothing like the comfort of good food. The main reason I tolerate cooler weather is because I love the seasonal switch to hearty dishes. Dale is from Maine and makes baked beans with an heirloom bean from Northern Maine. Marafax. We usually get a pound in our Christmas package from his sister.
Dale bakes them (unsoaked) for a few hours in the oven with some water, salt pork and dry mustard. Then he makes yeast rolls and what he calls cabbage salad. It’s just coleslaw – grated white cabbage with a little bit of diced onion, mayonnaise and celery seeds. Something yummy about those celery seeds. I think of it as a reasonably healthy meal, if you don’t count the butter slathered on those rolls.
We started eating more salads, mostly with a light drizzle of the pink stuff. In fact, tonight I’m making crispy chicken thighs with mushroom sauce and a spinach salad with the very same dressing. Have you tried it yet? My friend Carole made a batch of the pink stuff and is now a convert.
I baked a batch of raspberry scones, my take on a recipe from Linda at Retired Introvert. I try to keep either blueberry or raspberry in the freezer at all times!
It seems I wrote the post about raspberry scones in August, when
I was on another baking frenzy. That was when I said I wasn’t born to work but
instead born to retire. As I begin my third year of retirement, I can only confirm
what has already been said.
The baking frenzy continues. I started a batch of no-knead baguettes today, but the dough rises for at least 18 hours, so the baguettes will get baked tomorrow. We’ll probably have them for dinner Sunday with soft ripe cheese, Spanish ham and good olive oil.
In heartbreaking news, my favorite pair of tongs broke. They are more than 40 years old. The brand is Foley, which I don’t think exists anymore. I like them for making my dad’s tacos, which are gently fried in oil. These tongs grab the tortilla without tearing or poking.
I sent my sister a picture of the tongs and asked if she knew whether they were a special kind. She didn’t know but said she had two pairs of the exact same tongs and would bring one when she comes to visit us in March.
Nothing stumps her. It’s like oh, those tongs from 1970, why, here they are!
I gotta run. The afternoon is winding up, and I need to get in a round of Wii golf before happy hour.
How’s your retirement going? As you can see, my days are packed.
I’ve had a nasty cold and didn’t have the strength to do much of anything for a week. I started feeling better yesterday, so I went to the driving range to see if I can still manage to hit a golf ball. So far, so good. Today I did a short walk. If all goes well, I’ll swim tomorrow, and that should signal everything is back to normal. Golf on Monday.
It sucks to be sick, but I was thinking how nice it was to be
retired and just give into it rather than drag my ass to work and poison all my
co-workers. On the other hand, maybe you do get over it quicker when you push
yourself out the door.
While my wrists are much better, my ankles stiffened up. Do body parts take turns rebelling as you age? Maybe they talk to each other, like household appliances that crap out at the same time. First the toaster goes, then the clothes dryer and then it’s everybody in the pool!
I attribute the unpleasant ankle business to an 18-hole walk through a mud bog of a golf course just before I got sick. I seem to recall my partner saying, “Isn’t it hard to push that cart through the mud?” I said, “Not at all. Piece of cake.”
Famous last words. On the bright side, I’ve had stiff ankles before, and I learned a neat trick. Do the alphabet with your foot a couple of times a day. It really helps.
Even though I didn’t feel well, I attempted to make soup from fabulous roast beef leftover from Christmas. The soup was bad. Dale and I did a taste test today and agreed to pitch it. I hate to waste food, particularly that roast beef, but I also hate to eat nasty stuff, so I think we made the right call.
That left us deep in discussion about what to have for dinner tonight. I said, if I’m cooking, it needs to be something I won’t fuck up, because I feel bad about that soup. We were mentally going through items in the fridge and realized we had iceberg lettuce and tomatoes. Cheddar. Corn tortillas. Why, all we’d have to do is get some ground meat, and we could have tacos!
Dale said, “You’ve never fucked up tacos.”
He says the sweetest things. Tacos it is. I consider them healthy. Lean meat, a little cheese, veggies, what could be so wrong?
Since I’m up and about, I decided to clean the second refrigerator. I found a Lambic beer from 2007, which means we’ve moved it six times. I seem to recall a phase in Texas when I was going to make some sort of stew with it and never did.
Dale and I are almost always on completely different pages when it comes to getting rid of stuff. I purge, he hoards. I used to check with him before throwing something away, but it’s 2020. I’m older and bolder. Time to make a command decision, and I decided today the beer was past its prime.
I imagined the response if I had asked. I can totally see Dale looking at it and saying, “2007? Oh, come on, that was when Bush was president, and we thought it couldn’t get any worse. I’m sure the beer is fine.”
The beer was sealed with a cork, which I popped over the sink in case the bottle blew up. Nothing horrible happened, but it smelled funky. I told Dale after-the-fact, and he looked surprised. Maybe a little hurt.
I said, gently, “That’s a long time to keep a beer.”
And he said, and I quote, “No shit.”
Old beer goes bad, and old people change. Sometimes for the better.
The tree is up, but it’s a wee bit tilty, and I’ve been feeling down. I don’t know why. Some of it is the tilt.
I worry about the tree falling over. That, and the Russians, the election, impeachment, climate change, wind blowing furniture into the pool, slippery roads. Sounds like a control thing to me, what with all the wet, windy, tilty, crazy things happening that I can’t fix.
It had been more than a week since I’d added my high-CBD cannabis tincture to my morning juice, so I got back into my daily dose, and it’s like a miracle for anxiety and excess rumination. I can look at the tree now and not panic.
Nice tree, good tree.
Tincture might be making a comeback. I read notorious cannabis
enthusiast Willie Nelson has given up smoking due to breathing issues but is
still enjoying cannabis through tinctures and edibles. If anyone can put tincture
on the map, it’s Willie.
Whilst in my slump, I also increased my dosage of schmaltz. There are a couple of videos that never fail to make me cry and cheer me up at the same time. Susan Boyle’s first appearance on Britain’s Got Talent is like a rescue inhaler. I also love Tara Lipinsky’s 1998 skate for the gold.
Opening the cat’s presents
For Christmas, Dale bought treats for our cat, Riley, and for his sister’s cat, Earle. The clerk described the treats as crack for cats. Dale wanted to open the package to see if Riley agrees. I was shocked. I mean, isn’t that what he’s getting for Christmas?
Dale said Riley wouldn’t know, but I’m sorry. There are some things you just don’t do, and you don’t go opening your cat’s presents before Christmas. Maybe Christmas Eve, but only if it’s pajamas. Having to explain all this to Dale was exhausting. You can see why I need extra tincture.
Our 41st
So, yes, 41 years of love and exhaustion was celebrated on Saturday. We drove into “the city” and spent the night at a hotel with a highly acclaimed but unpretentious restaurant on the ground floor. We don’t like to dress up, and nice jeans and boots were more than appropriate. We’re also not real slick about navigating urban settings, so having the restaurant in the hotel was perfect. No scary walks at night.
We rarely dine out, mostly because we’re excellent home cooks and almost always disappointed with our meals in restaurants. When we do go out, we find some local haunt, and our bill is usually in the $60 range. And then we’re pissed that we wasted it. For our anniversary, we said, what about going big? Maybe you can buy your way to exceptional food.
Although we were mentally prepared to spend some bucks, it’s always hard for us. We have a comfortable retirement and can afford it, but like many retirees, after saving for so long, it actually is hard to fork over the cash. Fortunately, dinner was spectacular.
Follow the food
For an appetizer, I had grilled octopus with mandarin oranges,
shaved fennel, Japanese mustard greens, spicy green sauce and charred avocado.
Dale had roasted bone marrow with short rib marmalade, pickled pepper relish,
herbs and grilled bread.
We both chose duck for our entrée. It was not planned, but there’s duck history between us. When we were dating, he wooed me from the kitchen of his Bachelor Officer’s Quarters with Duck a L’Orange. Oh, and then there was the benchmark pressed duck in Rouen, France. The wild duck at the fancy place in Paris.
Paris, Rouen … those were our youthful globe-trotting days, before we got loaded down with responsibilities and understood the concept of compound interest. When paychecks were for spending!
This time around it was seared duck breast with onion cream sauce, roasted brussels sprouts leaves, Thumbalina carrots, miniature cannelloni, shaved truffles and duck jus.
I ate every bite and would have licked the plate if I
thought I could get away with it. We were both quite full, so we didn’t order
dessert. We enjoyed a bottle of Pinot Noir with our meal.
With tip, our bill was $280. The room was $155, plus $32 for parking, so that’s a total of $467 for our 41st wedding anniversary celebration. Seems like a lot, but if anything, we should do it more. Maybe skip on mediocre neighborhood fare and follow the food.
Place gelatin into the bowl of a heavy-duty stand mixer along with 1/2 cup of the water. Have the whisk attachment standing by.
In a small saucepan, combine the remaining 1/2 cup of water, granulated sugar, corn syrup and salt. Place over medium high heat, cover and cook for 3 to 4 minutes. Uncover, clip a candy thermometer onto the side of the pan and continue to cook until the mixture reaches 240 degrees F, about 7 to 8 minutes. Once the mixture reaches temperature, immediately remove from the heat.
Turn the mixer on low speed and, while running, slowly pour the sugar syrup down the side of the bowl into the gelatin mixture. Once you've added all the syrup, increase the speed to high. Continue to whip until the mixture becomes very thick and lukewarm, about 12 to 15 minutes. Add the vanilla during the last minute of whipping. While the mixture is whipping, prepare the pan.
Combine confectioners' sugar and cornstarch in a small bowl. Lightly spray a pan with nonstick cooking spray. I use a square silicone cake pan, but you can also use a glass or metal 9×13 pan. The smaller cake pan yields taller marshmallows, which I prefer. Add the sugar and cornstarch mixture and swish around to completely coat the bottom and sides of the pan. Return the remaining mixture to the bowl for later use.
When the marshmallow mixture is ready, pour/scrape into the prepared pan, using a lightly oiled spatula for spreading evenly into the pan. It's very sticky, and you won't be able to get every last bit. Dust the top with the remaining sugar and cornstarch mixture to lightly cover. Once covered, you can use your hands to press evenly into place. Allow to sit uncovered overnight.
Turn the marshmallows out onto a cutting board and cut into squares with a sharp knife or pizza cutter dusted with the sugar and cornstarch mixture. Once cut, lightly dust all sides of each marshmallow with the remaining mixture to ensure no side is sticky.
To decorate, put some cold water in a small bowl, and put your sanding sugars in separate bowls. Very lightly dip the top of the marshmallow into the water and then press into the sanding sugar. If you want to coat the entire marshmallow, paint the water on with a brush and then roll around in the sanding sugar to evenly coat. Allow to dry a couple of hours on a sheet pan lined with parchment paper.
Store in an airtight container for up to 3 weeks.
With apologies to Darlene Love, it’s a marshmallow world in the winter. Except I’m not talking about snow. This marshmallow starts in the kitchen.
I’ve been making marshmallows for years, but I just started coating them with sanding sugar to get more of the peep-like effect. It’s probably too much sugar for some, but for those of us who love peeps, there’s no such thing as too much sugar.
Quick question for peep lovers … fresh or stale?
While I prefer coarse sugar over fine, these marshmallows are also delicious unadulterated. Dale normally doesn’t like marshmallows, but he loves these without the extra sugar. They would also make a great gift with hot cocoa mix and maybe a cute mug.
These will be packaged up and gifted. I usually use cellophane bags tied with a ribbon, but I might poke around and see what else is out there.
Oh, and yes, it makes a mess, but when it comes to cleaning up sugar, hot water is your friend.
Our Thanksgiving was great, although the turkey was a little overdone. We had delicious turkey sandwiches last night on Dale’s homemade bread, so it couldn’t have been all that bad.
There was an incident involving the oven. Dale roasted a pork belly the night before, and apparently grease splattered, creating a lot of smoke when I was getting ready to put in the cheesecake. I had to turn on the fan and open windows. Luckily, it didn’t affect the food, and after the oven cooled, Dale wiped down the inside so we wouldn’t have a smokefest when he started cooking the turkey.
We didn’t argue about it, but I could tell he was annoyed that I was annoyed with smoke. He thinks I overreact, and that might be true, but I don’t see any advantage to embracing smoke and fire as a byproduct of cooking inside the home.
Dale went to bed early, but I stayed up watching the Downton
Abbey movie. I love the series and felt like I was reunited with old friends –
oh, look, there’s Anna! And Mr. Bates! And Mary’s hair … so chic. But all in
all, it was pretty disappointing. I have this vision of the actors putting on
their old costumes and laughing hysterically. As in, “Can you believe we’re
getting paid to do this?”
My pumpkin cheesecake was fantastic. I’m experimenting with freezer action. Once the pieces are firm, I’ll wrap them in plastic and put them in a tub or or add another layer of foil.
I am not a Christmas person, but I’m not going to get all
grumpy about it, either. I’m just happy to be here. Dale is more into it than I
am, but he doesn’t want to put up a tree until about a week before. However, if
you don’t go soon, the trees are gone – especially with Thanksgiving coming right
at the end of November this year.
Dale is not exactly methodical about getting things done, so I’m not saying a word. I’m hoping he procrastinates until there are no trees to be had. The only potential downside is my annual holiday tradition of drinking single malt scotch while he decorates the tree. I feel certain I could find another excuse to enjoy a wee bit of scotch, if the tree shortage should come to pass.
I finished all my books, and as it turns out, the library is open today! I’ve been avoiding crowds, but the library is reasonably safe. I suppose I’ll have to find something to wear other than jammies and head over there this afternoon, hopefully before the rain kicks in.
Yes, it’s California, but the rainy season is finally here, and it is quite chilly by my standards. I am proud to say I’ve walked about an hour every day. In terms of motivation, I had to dig deep, as I am such a wuus about the cold. But it was fine once I got started.
The rain and cold also affect my golf schedule – what Dale
calls, “The Tour.” He usually asks me on Sunday what the tour schedule is this
week. I didn’t play last week at all. I’m going to try and squeeze in a round
early Tuesday. The rain is supposed to start in the afternoon. I welcome the
rain, but I’m already sad about the unpredictability of winter golf.
When golf season is in full swing, I hardly bother with
crafts projects. But now that the rainy season has started, I’ll resume my activities
in the artist’s studio garage. I still have all the stuff for coasters, as
well a piece of discarded fence I think will be interesting to play around
with.
My little cannabis plant looks healthy, but it doesn’t seem
to be growing much. I think it needs more light, so I caved and purchased an
LED lamp. It should arrive today, and Dale said he would help me hang it – the guidelines
suggest about one foot above the plant. For some reason, I was thinking of
Robert Frost:
My little plant must think it queer to grow without a light source near.
Dale wants to take a turkey break today, but we have yet to discuss what we’ll have instead. I always make soup out of the carcass, so I’ll probably do that Sunday or Monday. Rain tonight, I think, and tomorrow looks like a washout.
I’m looking forward to next week, when everybody else goes
back to work!
