My Chopped basket. I think I’ll make pesto and homemade pasta!
Today is one of those days where everything feels hard. It seems like everyone out there is mad at everyone else. The news is horrible. I go for a walk, and I have to dodge people left and right to keep six feet away. And, oh, if I want my favorite masks for golf tomorrow, I’d better run another load of wash. I had an appointment to swim laps, but I canceled. Swimming has become such an ordeal.
I decided to stay home. Isn’t that crazy? It seems like most people are itching to go out and do normal things, but sometimes I think we still need a respite from the madness. For me, it means retreating to what’s comfortable. Simple pleasures.
First thing’s first. Lunch. While I eat mostly healthy unprocessed food, I do love me some Cheez Whiz on fresh celery. I’ve been quite the cookie monster lately, so that was my meal, but a tasty one it was. Lunch at home always seems like such an indulgence after years of poking down something at work. It’s actually one of my favorite things about retirement. Well, and breakfast.
Have your lunch habits changed since you retired? I hope you are enjoying something delicious …
Next step was downloading what is turning out to be a pretty good book about hiking the Appalachian Trail. A little armchair travel is good for the soul. I don’t actually want to hike the AT, but I love to walk and am always looking for inspiration. Over the years, I’ve given a lot of thought to doing some sort of long walk, but I have so many caveats I usually give up.
In the Great Big Picture Book of things that scare me about a long walk, here they are in no particular order:
Peeing
Cliffs and drop-offs
Wild animals
Pooping
Murderers
Rapists
Bad knees
Bad back
Weather
Sleeping
Eating
Social distancing
That’s just for starters. For now, I’m gradually increasing my mileage with the idea of doing a long day hike that starts after breakfast and ends before happy hour. That seems doable.
Dinner is always a topic of high interest at our house. Since I decided to avoid the world today, I wanted to cook. I was going to make Chana Masala, but we didn’t have all the ingredients. And it’s not like going to the store is easy.
However, we did have some lovely basil from the garden, so I’m making pesto. I’m also making pasta from scratch. I’ve made pasta before with great success, but I don’t do it enough to feel as though I’ve mastered it. I always make sure we have back-up pasta.
That should get me through the day. And it’s Tuesday! Chopped night on the Food channel. Thank you, universe.
For the record, I’m not yet tired of my homemade peanut butter cookies. I’m prepared to go the distance … one cookie per day for the rest of my life. However, Dale had a craving for my black pepper cookies, which are an all-time favorite.
I used to make them for work events, and one of my colleagues asked me to bring her a separate stash so she wouldn’t have to share. Which I did.
BTW, they’re another pandemic-friendly cookie. The pepper won’t fight off the virus, but the recipe calls for just a few ingredients that are probably in your pantry anyway. We like them with lots of pepper, so I use two generous teaspoons of coarsely ground black pepper.
A cool trick from King Arthur is to wander around your kitchen and find unusual tools to press your cookies. They suggest a potato masher, among other things. My favorite is the bottom of the tube from our food processor. I do love circles.
These cookies freeze well and are delicious straight from the freezer, where you should keep them so you don’t eat them all at once.
Black Pepper Cookies
A hot-sweet cookie almost like a spicy peppery shortbread … easy to make with simple pantry ingredients. Originally from Sunset magazine.
In a food processor, combine flour, baking powder, 3/4 cup of the sugar and ground peppercorns. Whirl until blended.
In a small saucepan, stir butter over medium heat until browned, stirring through the white foam to check. Add to the flour mixture and whirl until the dough forms a ball. If after a minute or so, it's still not in a ball, just put it in plastic wrap and squeeze together until it forms a ball.
Pinch off 1-inch pieces of dough and roll into a ball. Arrange balls, slightly apart, on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Dip the bottom of a small glass in the remaining sugar and press each ball gently to about 1/2 inch thickness. Press a peppercorn into the center of each cookie. Sprinkle with additional sugar, if desired.
Bake on the lowest rack of a 300 degree oven until browned on the bottom, about 20-25 minutes. Transfer the cookies to a rack and let cool completely. Store at room temperature or freeze. They're delicious right out of the freezer!
Our coyote friend came back to take another snooze by the pool. He appears to be a juvenile. Well-fed and healthy. I was out of the house early to play golf, so I don’t know what time the coyote bolted. Dale said he looked out mid-morning, and the coyote was gone.
I think he’s our spirit animal – sent to share a message. Reminding us to not take things too seriously and to seek balance between wisdom and playfulness. As I researched this further, I learned coyote symbolism warns us to beware of the dark side of things and reveals the answers to your problems often come in ways and forms you least expect.
Since the coyote first showed up, we’ve done quite well backing away from COVID arguments, which are principally focused on surviving shopping expeditions and managing territorial issues in the kitchen.
While it’s easy to assume these issues arose from being crushed together during pandemic sheltering, it might also result from being crushed together during my retirement, whereupon I discovered that I liked staying home … which is where Dale likes to hang out, too.
We’ve learned that both of us staying home fighting for space while the world is on fire is a dark place to start when you’re just trying to make dinner.
The thing is, we both like to cook. And with cooking comes control. When I was working, Dale basically had squatters rights in the kitchen, but now he has to share his toys. But it’s not just space or equipment. It’s about choices. What are we going to eat? How are we going to get it? Are you going to use that fresh spinach before it goes bad? Mexican … again?
We had a close call earlier this week, but I managed to defuse the fire with quick action … a skill I’ve been perfecting of late, perhaps with the help of our spirit animal. It involves pressing my lips together and keeping my mouth shut.
The situation was chicken breasts. As you may recall, I defrosted and re-organized the chest freezer. At the time, we only had one chicken breast left, so I put it in a Ziploc with thighs and labeled it, “Chicken Breasts and Thighs.” Makes sense to me.
Normally, Dale likes to buy the frozen chicken breasts individually sealed and you can just cut one off as needed. But when the stay-at-home mandate first started, those were hard to find.
When individually sealed breasts showed up again, Dale purchased a package and put them in the freezer. No, he probably turned backward and tossed them over his shoulder like salt or maybe did a little dance in silent protest of the new order.
And so it came to pass that it was time for Mexican-style baked chicken breasts. A yummy thing. You mix some salsa in with beaten eggs, dip the breast and then roll it in bread crumbs seasoned with cumin and whatever other spices sound good. Throw some butter in a glass casserole, bake at 375 degrees about 30 minutes or until done. Serve with shredded iceberg lettuce, a dollop of sour cream, sliced avocado and a wedge of lime.
I said innocently enough, “When you get the chicken breasts out to thaw, the oldest one is in a labeled Ziploc. Use that one and then cut off one of the new ones.” He did not respond.
Later, as Dale was preparing his kitchen hut for the sacred cooking ritual, I was convinced I personally witnessed him cutting off two portions from the new package of individually sealed breasts.
I wanted to say, “What is so effing hard about using the oldest one first?” But then I thought, oh, the chicken will get eaten one way or the other. Who cares? I did not say a word, and I’ve been quite proud of my restraint. I thought about all the ways to do things and how we almost always go in opposite directions. It’s actually quite funny.
So, I laughed. I thought it would make a funny post and sat down to write. Then I went to the freezer to take some sort of picture to go with. While I was there, I decided to look in the Ziploc. The chicken breast was gone. Only one missing from the other package.
A coyote snoozing by the backyard spa. Our coyote friend on the move after he heard me open the door.
Suburban coyote
As I was cleaning up cat barf this morning, I happened to look out the back window, only to see a coyote snoozing by the spa. I can’t believe my furry little puker missed that one, as he sat staring out the front window, desperately seeking squirrel activity.
I took a picture through the window and watched him awhile. I figured he would just move along at some point, but Dale said sometimes they can’t get out. I gingerly propped the gate open and came back in the house.
Then the coyote moved to a shady spot by the pool. I opened the sliding glass door and snapped a shot of him trotting away. He jumped to the top of the fence and looked like he decided next door was a better option. I was like, dude, they don’t cook … the food is better over here, but he wasn’t buying it. I put on a mask and went over to alert our neighbors, because they have a dog and a cat that both go outside.
Coyotes do live around here. You can hear them at night. Still, I hope he’s OK. He might have heard the pool is open for the season – registering yesterday at 81 degrees! Of course, I’m being sexist here. It could be a she, but I’m thinking it’s a boy coyote that would run away from home and camp out in someone’s yard.
Swimming
I’ve started swimming in our backyard pool. It’s not a huge pool, so swimming laps is not ideal, lots of head-bashing, but it’s the only option I have right now, coyotes and all. I need to decide if I’m going to keep my membership in the health club. I would definitely not use the weights or the locker room. I’ve been doing free weights at home.
I would like to use the pool at the health club and have a plan for how to do it safely if or when it reopens, but if I swim twice a week, that’s about $10 a swim. Not sure it’s worth it. Although, my back did feel better after just one swim. Decisions!
Cookie Madness
I’ve decided to allow myself one peanut butter cookie a day until I no longer want one … which might never happen, so perhaps I will be eating one every single day for the rest of my life. I can’t believe one cookie could be all that bad for me. And they are so easy to make.
The recipe yields about a dozen and a half – depending on what size scoop you use, and the only ingredients are peanut butter, brown sugar and an egg. A smattering of sea salt. I prefer them without chocolate chips. What can I say? They bring me joy.
Books & TV
Today is a library curbside pick-up for Dead Land, the new Sara Paretsky novel featuring V.I. Warshawski. This is book 20. I think I’ve read them all.
I’m done with the current season of Bosch, and I finished the Longmire series. Both were excellent, although I did not like how Longmire wrapped up. I won’t spoil it for you, but it just didn’t feel right to me. I do think he’s a cutie and hope to see him in something else soon.
While I’ve yet to pick a new crime series, I have a long list of options. None are calling to me. I’m currently watching Vida on STARZ. It’s about two Mexican sisters who return home to Los Angeles after their mother passes away.
The mother ran a bar, and it turns out she was a closet lesbian – at least closeted to her daughters. The daughters start to run the bar and become immersed in the local scene. Warning – strong sexual content and not necessarily your routine stuff.
The last argument
Although we are still being cautious, we went to Home Depot for two things needed for a small improvement project. While it was not a good experience for us, it did result it what we are calling, “The Last Argument.” I wanted to order online and have it delivered to the car. Dale wanted to go in and buy weed killer. I conceded.
We put on our masks. There was a line, and they were counting people as they entered. Still, there were a lot of people entering, and most of them were not wearing masks. Dale got annoyed and didn’t want to buy weed killer after all. We got the two things we went for and got out of there as fast as we could.
Later, Dale said he was angry that I insisted we go to Home Depot to buy things for an optional improvement project. I said, if you will recall, I wanted to have it delivered to the car. The only reason we went inside is because you wanted to.
He was like, oops, I forgot. Sigh. We’re just humans doing the best we can. Kiss and make up. We agreed – talk everything through in advance, make sure we understand each other’s expectations and don’t fight about anything ever. It sucks.
Stress behavior
People are stressed, and stress behavior can be ugly. I played golf, and one of the women in my group was a complete bitch. She didn’t mess with me, but she was so rude to one of the other players. I don’t know where that came from, other than she’s just pissed about life in general.
I almost didn’t play but had a golf dream telling me to relax and let my swing flow smoothly. I wish I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard something about a smooth swing, but I finally figured out why it doesn’t stick.
Sometimes you do herky-jerky things, and you get away with it. Smash a drive or whatever. You begin to think that’s the secret, so you start trying it on purpose. Nothing good comes of this. Smooth is always the answer. I said to myself, just go, be at peace with the universe, stay calm and be smooth. Do not introduce extra movements to the momentum of the swing.
It worked! I played well … much better than I’ve been playing, even with my exposure to the bitter bitch. I hope she chills out. I feel stress and constantly have to work at managing these challenges in a positive way, but I’m mostly successful and certainly happier.
It’s hot, and if there are no coyotes in backyard, I will be taking a dip today.
Dale did a commissary run today for the first time since all this started. He used to go twice a month for the basics, supplementing with specialty items at local stores. Commissaries are operated for military personnel, but retirees and family members with proper military ID can also use them. We save about 30 percent when we shop there. The closest one to us is about a 30-minute drive.
Yes, distance to commissary was on my retirement location spreadsheet!
Although we are in good shape supply-wise, he wanted to recon when we didn’t necessarily need anything as sort of a test. The commissary now requires masks, so that tipped in our favor.
When he got back, Dale said military people are great. “They want you to wear a mask? Done! No whiners.” He went right when they opened, and it wasn’t crowded. It was easy to keep his distance.
Dale said they were out of the same things everyone else is out of but otherwise well-stocked. He bought charcoal, Irish butter, eggs, onions, cheese, mayonnaise and my beloved Trop 50 orange juice. For some reason, that stuff is hard to find. Oh, and back-up to the back-up peanut butter. Which means more of those delicious cookies. How can I not?
If all goes well, Dale is back on the clock as supply chain manager. For me, it was a good run but good riddance. He is much easier to get along with when he has a mission. Pandemic Dale is kind of a drag. Pandemic Donna is no prize, either. We’ve been married 41 years, and this is the first time I ever asked myself why? But then there are moments when we feel closer than ever.
Maybe everyone is feeling it, because people around here are starting to act like the virus is gone. That scares us. Our county has low numbers, and I hope they are right, but we’re not banking on it. We continue to be cautious, and so far, nobody has hassled us. I read where people in some parts of California are saying rude things to those who wear masks, like, “You believe this hype? You’re nothing but sheep.”
All I have to say to that is baa.
Restaurants are opening, but we have no intentions of going. We hardly went pre-pandemic. We might loosen up a bit on short visits to the grocery store, but with masks, social distancing and hand-washing. There’s no place we need to go or want to go that requires us to linger inside.
The only other thing we miss are the wineries. It’s so nice to taste before you buy. And it’s usually a lovely drive out to the vineyards. We hardly ever purchase wine in a store anymore.
I’m not sure how the tasting rooms will re-open. We have been plowing slowly sipping our way through the inventory and look forward to replenishing the rack. In good pandemic news, I accidentally opened a bottle of late harvest Zinfandel. It’s more of a dessert wine, which we don’t typically drink. We must have purchased it on a whim.
I didn’t want to waste the wine, so I put a vacuum seal on it and stuck it in the fridge. I thought about making sorbet but chickened out. Then I decided to start drinking a small glass as an aperitif, perhaps as some drink Port at happy hour? This particular late harvest Zin is not super-sweet and went beautifully with some aged cheddar as an appetizer. Delicious.
So, wine remains to be seen. But if Dale can safely do a commissary run with supplemental trips to the local store, and if I can play golf, this marriage might be saved.
My husband, Dale, a retired military logistician and foodie-in-residence, was always in charge of groceries, but he didn’t want to deal with online shopping, so we had a little change of command ceremony, and I took over the supply chain.
He’s going to want it back, damn it, and I guess I’ll be ready to hand it over, but I’ve actually enjoyed my new role. We’ve always taken different approaches to menu planning, and this arrangement gave me an advantage. Pre-pandemic, Dale wakes up and thinks, “What do I want to eat for dinner tonight?” Then after persuading me that I want it, too, he would go to the store to buy anything we were missing.
I’ve always treated the kitchen like a Chopped basket. I love digging things out of the freezer and using up whatever we have before it goes bad. Now that we’re shopping less frequently and guessing what we might want to eat weeks down the road, Dale is more amenable to my approach. Food is a precious commodity.
We were discussing options for tonight, and I said we have a ripe avocado, fresh cilantro that won’t last long and queso fresco. We also have chicken tortilla soup in the freezer. In the old days, he might have gone along with my idea but probably would have said something like, “Yeah, that sounds good, but I was thinking burgers.”
And then I would remind him we don’t have any buns, and he’d jump for joy at the prospect of going to the store to buy some. That time is gone. Now, it’s all about using what we have. I even convinced him to help me defrost and reorganize the chest freezer out in the garage so we can find stuff.
Dale uses a visual filing system, and his argument against the reorg was that he knew where everything was. But I didn’t! And now that I’m in charge of replenishing supplies, he went along with it. With all this new-found power, I took the opportunity to “bundle” like items. I don’t see this as neurotic COVID-19 tidying but maximizing the return on our biggest expense and our biggest interest – food.
Rather than miscellaneous pieces of pork scattered throughout, there’s now a large plastic bag for all the pork. There’s a bag for chicken thighs. A nut and spice bag. A special basket for leftovers. I think he was hyperventilating, and I thought if the virus doesn’t get him, this will.
Now that I am monitoring our stock, I have been astonished by how much cheese we consume. And you know what? This is not a reckoning of any kind. I will not be joining the legions of people who don’t eat dairy. It just means I need to buy more cheese.
We love and eat all kinds of cheese, but we hit the cheddar pretty hard. With our last online order, I accidentally selected an 8-ounce package instead of the usual pounder. We started calling it appetizer-size cheese. Seriously, you dip into that, and next thing you know it’s gone. Kind of like box wine.
Here’s another strange but true cheese story. We stopped using grated mozzarella cheese in the package a couple of years ago in favor of whole milk mozzarella in chunks. Somehow, we forgot about one package in the back of the cheese drawer. The “sell by” date was March 2018. It was unopened.
Dale gently and carefully opened it. I stood by for emergency assistance, should it be required. He did a sniff test and looked for mold or other unsightly additions. All looked and smelled good. Then he did a taste test, and declared the two-year-old cheese was great!
Yes, we ate it and bought another one to keep around in case of a pandemic.
Yes, we did snag some ground lamb at the grocery store, but the real treat was backup to the backup peanut butter for these easy and addictive cookies.
It’s definitely not business as usual where I live in northern California, but there are signs we may be able to safely enjoy some of our favorite activities as long as we accept conditions of the new normal. I love how businesses are adapting.
Golf
I played golf this week for the first time since early March. It varies from course to course, but significant changes have been made to eliminate touch points and accommodate social distancing.
My club, a modest public golf course, has done a great job on the things they can control, but I observed some sloppy behavior among the guests. I felt safe only because I took extra effort to stay safe.
Although I didn’t wear a mask while playing, I had several masks in my bag and put on a clean one whenever I approached anything resembling a crowd. I was careful to keep my distance but had to dance around my playing partners, who seemed oblivious to social distancing.
All in all, it was good day. I played well, and that surprised me. Sometimes they say a break in golf is good because you forget all the bad habits you developed. I had two birdies on the back nine! As for Dale, it was a good day for him, too. He liked having the house to himself.
Grocery Store
We went inside our favorite grocery store, which now requires that all associates and shoppers wear masks. An employee at the entrance checks for masks and wipes down a cart for you. People were well-behaved, and with some exceptions, the shelves were full. Plenty of produce and dairy but a little short on some kinds of meat. We got everything we needed.
The check-out lanes were marked to help people stay six feet apart, and there was a plastic shield between you and the cashier. Hand sanitizer stations by the doors. Unless something changes, I think we could do this every couple of weeks.
Winery
One of our favorite local wineries closed its tasting room, but you can order wine online and pick it up. They’re allowing one person in the tasting room at a time to purchase wine, or they’ll bring it to your car. Even if we can’t taste, it’s a lovely drive and will give us something to do.
Library
And yet another great innovation from the library! Prior to the lockdown, I had reserved a couple of books. One of them arrived – The Night Watchman by Louise Erdrich – and I got an email with a link, where I could make an appointment to have the book delivered to my car! Isn’t that cool?
The notice also included this message, “All materials have undergone an established waiting period and have been handled only by staff whose hands have been sanitized and who wear fabric face coverings.”
Backup to the Backup Peanut Butter
When we went to the store, I got backup peanut butter even though we already had backup peanut butter. I’m not hoarding, but I wanted to make peanut butter cookies, and the recipe calls for a cup of peanut butter. That’s actually quite a lot, and I didn’t want to raid our supply.
With the pantry fully loaded, I made the cookies. I like chocolate as much as the next person, but I lean toward anything made with brown sugar and nuts. These have got to be the easiest cookies ever, and I love them so much, I might never make them again.
We store the cookies in the freezer, so theoretically you’re not tempted. But that time is gone. Once frozen, they’re like peanut butter candy bars.
Peanut Butter Cookies
Few ingredients, easy and delicious to eat straight from the freezer.
1CupPeanut butter Not the natural kind that must be stirred … but any regular peanut butter is good, either crunchy or creamy.
1CupDark brown sugarMy preference. White sugar or light brown sugar also works.
1LargeEgg
Coarse sea saltOptional, but yum!
Instructions
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Beat everything together until smooth. Drop by spoon or scoop onto an ungreased parchment-lined cookie sheet. Press each cookie slightly with fork or other tool. My dough was soft and the fork press wasn’t precise, but it did the job. You can also refrigerate the unbaked cookies for 20 minutes so you get a better press. Sprinkle lightly with sea salt. Bake for about 10 minutes, until just golden. Let cool completely. They’re soft if left at room temperature but crisp up in the freezer.
If you must have chocolate, take three or four chocolate chips and press them into the cookie before baking. They're delicious this way, too.
We kept saying we should have a Bloody Mary, but we vetoed it every time. For some weird reason, it’s not a cocktail we enjoy before dinner. For us, it’s more of a breakfast or lunch thing.
I’ve been trying to make healthy choices for breakfast … fruit, yogurt and granola … and a Bloody just didn’t seem to line up. But Dale made rye bread yesterday, and I had a vision of buttered homemade rye toast, bacon and Bloodies. We executed my vision this morning!
The Budweiser pint glass is part of a set I got during some kind of a promotion during the mid-90s. I remember cutting off the UPC codes from case after case of Budweiser. I wonder where all those Buds went? My sister made the olive skewers.
I love special plates, glassware, serving dishes and hand-made kitchen accessories. Since we’ve been in self-isolation, I’ve made more of an effort to use them and will continue to do so after this is over.
The drinks are three parts Bloody Mary mix to one part vodka. Bloody Mary mix is a controversial subject. Everyone has a favorite! I made these with Lefty O’Doul’s, which I like, but we both prefer Big Daddy’s. Both are made in California.
Then I add copious amounts of Worcester sauce, fresh lime, Tabasco sauce and horseradish. I stir it all up in a large Mason jar. We like them spicy and lovingly adorned with fresh crisp celery and green olives.
That description reminds me of a scene from the Netflix series, Grace and Frankie. Grace (Jane Fonda) wants a Bloody Mary, but for some reason, she can’t get one. Instead, she orders a shrimp cocktail, hold the shrimp, and then she pulls a mini-bottle from her purse and makes a drink out of it.
Before I put the ice cubes in, I squeeze lime juice around the rim and dip it in a mixture of Kosher salt and Old Bay Seasoning. Yes, I lick it off. Toward the end, I like to run my celery around the rim to catch anything I missed.
As proper Californians, we should switch to reusable straws. Note to self.
Anyway, breakfast was delicious. As for pandemic juice, I highly recommend the Bloody Mary. We each get only one, so it’s not too big of a buzz, and we could definitely drive if we had to go somewhere.
Keeping everything in stock seems like a full-time job. Between Amazon, local grocery store pick-up and a few specialty products from online vendors, we’re fabulous, thank you. Except, well, Dale’s gone feral.
He ordered two “snacker packs” of Gibble’s potato chips from his buddies at Ship My Chips. He calls potato chips Vitamin P. Gibble’s are from Chambersburg, Pa. We (mostly he) developed a taste for them when we lived there years ago. The chips are fried in lard, and our recipe scrapbook even includes the paean to lard he once clipped from a bag of the Gibble’s.
They aren’t here yet. Every day he waits and watches by the door.
Then there’s the pretzel situation. I wrote a post about this more than a year ago, but some people never learn. When we did our last in-store shopping, I snagged a bag of pretzels and asked if he wanted a bag. Dale likes extra salty, and I like extra dark. He said no, but by the time we got home, he was regretting it. He went online and ordered straight from the manufacturer. I asked if he got some for me, and he said it didn’t occur to him.
It’s every man for himself out here.
Later, Dale said he didn’t think of me as a pretzel eater. Really? That’s the best you can do? I said maybe I can pick the salt off yours, and he responded, “That’s a good idea.”
No. It isn’t.
Dale’s junk food Jones seems to be at peace for now, but I fully expect a truck full of Cheetos to arrive at any moment.
Walking
A walking path near our home.
I didn’t walk for a couple of days, mostly because of rain. Yesterday, I did my five-mile loop, and it was lovely. I only encountered a few people, and we all gave each other a wide berth. When we were figuring out where to live after I retired, traffic-free walking paths were a priority. Although we live in a suburban area, there are plenty of uncrowded trails.
I’m so glad I stuck to my guns. Walking lifts my spirits in so many ways. In the current hunkering down edict, my mood cycles throughout the day and depends in part on exposure to news. But a nice long walk blows off the stink and makes me feel human again.
Liquor store run
We made a liquor store run. I wasn’t sure what to expect, so I wore my homemade no-sew mask. I wore the hat because it was raining. Dale said I looked like Butch Cassidy.
I liked the set-up. The store itself is closed to walk-in traffic. You shop and pay for your booze online and select a pick-up time. The entrance is roped off, and there’s a kiosk attended by a store clerk. I showed the clerk my receipt, she got the box and handed it over. There’s hand sanitizer on the kiosk, and I had my own stash of disinfecting stuff as well.
Anything that isn’t perishable goes into the garage to “cool off” for a couple of days.
For food, we’ve been waffling between reasonably healthy and indulgent. Dale made homemade refried beans from dried pintos, which sounds healthy enough, except then he made golden-fried beany cheesy chimichangas, which are a wee bit indulgent.
I mean, I don’t want to die of scurvy or whatever, but right now indulgent feels good. I actually don’t feel too bad about it, because we do eat a wide variety of food, including fruits and vegetables, we exercise and we’re good about portion control. Even our indulgent stuff is homemade.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
Yesterday, Dale made sausage and cheese breakfast sandwiches on my home-baked English muffins. Seriously, you could sell those things on the side of the road and live comfortably off the proceeds. For dinner, we split that scrawny steak from Whole Foods delivery, and it was absolutely delicious. We also split a baked potato, and I sautéed mushrooms and spinach to go with. We opened a bottle of local Cabernet Franc.
Oh, and we emptied the bottle, as well.
My last grocery pick-up included long grain rice, which seems to be in short supply, so I was happy to see that. Score! We also got some kale. While we’re not on the “All Things Kale” bandwagon, we do like it. Tonight, Dale is making a one-pot wonder with kale, Italian sausage and canned white beans.
Trying to avoid death by junk food, but I have to admit, I’m looking forward to those chips. How about you? Cookies? Ice cream? Candy? Do tell.
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.
