Cats and Dogs, Living Together

“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.” - Mahatma Ghandi

“How we behave toward cats here below determines our status in heaven.” - Robert A. Heinlein

You've seen them on Facebook daily, those pictures of cats and dogs, family pets who have been orphaned or abandoned, and who need a new forever home.  There are the pleas for foster and adoptive homes.  And then there are the more frantic posts, begging for immediate help in saving a pet's life because they are in a shelter, and they are scheduled for execution.

Somehow, the words "shelter" and "execution" sound so wrong together in that sentence.  Think about it.  A young teen, on the streets, is brought to a homeless shelter.  He is given a bed to sleep in, clean clothes, good hot food, a place to shower.  After a month, no one comes to claim him so he is given a needle of toxic drugs to let him die humanely.  His body is cremated as part of a group of other homeless youths like himself.

Are you upset yet?  Oh of course, everything would have been different if he had been brought to a No-Kill Shelter, where he could have continued to stay until a foster or adoptive home was located and approved, but those are far and few between, so there was only one choice:  death by lethal injection.  So much kinder to the teenager.  This incident just points out how important it is to locate the mothers and have them sterilized so they won't continue to give birth to kittens that they cannot properly parent.

</sarcasm>

My first two cats, Ira Carlos and Minerva Athene, were adopted from Bideawee, in New York City, in 1976 and 1978, respectively.  I believe it is a no-kill shelter.

My current girl Yorkie, Chelsea Rose, was first rescued from a kill shelter, fostered and put up for adoption by United Yorkie Rescue.  It just seems crazy that there have to be rescues from shelters.

The feline-love-of-my-life, Ira Carlos (the second) was adopted at one of the pet supermarkets, from a group that I believe fostered the cats until a home could be found.  They never accepted more cats for foster than they could care for indefinitely.  Unfortunately, that meant many other kitties went to kill shelters.

What kind of people abuse or abandon their family pets?  And what kind of so-called "shelter" executes relatively healthy animals?  Is there really such a thing as a "humane" execution?

The older I get, the less I understand.

A Chip Off The Old Blockhead - Corn Casserole

I like science fiction.  All kinds of science fiction - Star Trek, Star Wars, Stargate SG-1, Robert Heinlein, Frank Herbert's Dune, the Marvel universe, Babylon 5, Buckaroo Banzai, Battlestar Galactica (only the reboot), Farscape, and at the top of my list, Doctor Who.  Not surprising, then, that I have the unshakeable belief that I gave birth to this child in another dimension.

Cory and his foster mom

I say this because he is so much like me, that I sometimes forget it was another dear lady who gave birth to him in Seoul, South Korea.  At least that's what happened in this universe, where I spend most of my time.  Cory writes like me - weird, wistful, wordy, full of passion and a touch of righteous indignation.  Like me, he has his low moments, sadness which springs from nowhere but can ruin an otherwise beautiful day.  Like me, he always bounces back.  And he cooks - not just from recipes, but from inspiration.  That is a recent innovation, one with good results, like his smoked salmon flatbread.

Recently, Cory was invited to a potluck pre-Thanksgiving dinner.  After some consultation with his personal cooking guru (me), he decided on making a corn casserole.  The recipe he used was, at my suggestion, off the web from Paula Deen.  Turns out it was different from my corn casserole recipe, but I've never had anything but good luck with Paula's recipes, and this was a very easy version of an old southern standby ("quintessentially southern" is how I referred to it in the November 22, 2014 post.) Cory ran with it (I had to practically handcuff myself, an incurable buttinsky, to the dishwasher to restrain from grabbing the wooden spoon) and did a wonderful job.  The smell in the house was absolutely lovely.

But the next day, my son said to me, "Mom, it was good but I think it could have been better.  I would have liked it a little sweeter."  My brilliant, intuitive son with the well-developed palate had discerned what it had taken me, early in my cooking career, a few years to figure out - corn dishes taste better with a touch of sugar.

So a few days later, the boy has another potluck - I love potlucks, I love this time of year - and he decides to try again, this time with my recipe, which is by no means an original.  I got it from a friend, who got it from his mom, who used to be a First Lady of a certain jurisdiction.  I've made it many times since then, as it goes well with lots of stuff besides turkey.  I particularly like to make it as part of a buffet with chili, beef burritos, chicken enchiladas, and Paula Deen's Savannah red rice. I tweaked it ever-so-slightly, but I just can't help myself.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.  While the oven is preheating, place the butter in a 9 x 13 inch pan.  When the butter is melted, remove immediately from the oven and set aside to cool.

2 boxes Jiffy cornbread mix
2 tall cans of creamed corn
2 cans of sweet corn, drained
2 eggs
2 sticks butter, melted and cooled
2 pints sour cream
1 1/2 cups whole milk
2 teaspoons sugar
shredded cheddar and/or pepper jack cheese, to taste

Combine all the ingredients and mix well.  Add some of the grated pepper jack cheese into the batter. Turn into the greased pan and bake for about an hour.  The batter will puff up nicely and then become firm, and the top should be golden brown.  Once it's done, remove from the oven and immediately sprinkle the top with the cheddar cheese.  It will melt on its own.

Cory made one half of this recipe which yielded two small casseroles, one which he brought to his office potluck, and the other which he offered as an addition to our holiday menu.  It was splendid.

Cory and his cookin' cousins 

Last Cat Standing - Devilled Eggs

I woke up the other day with a cat sleeping on my outstretched hand.  He was curled up as cats do, a low-grade purr buzzing in his throat.  I hated to wake him up, but I had eggs to devil.

This cat, my only cat, is the Last Cat Standing.  Throughout my adult life, I have shared my home and office with numerous cats.  The last time I had just one cat was 1978.  The highest number was eight or was it nine at a time?  That, plus the three Yorkies in residence, classified us as a bona fide menagerie.  As time went on, each of my kitties, as well as some of my Yorkies, left us to go to Rainbow Bridge, each time taking a piece of my heart with them.

Ira and baby Anakin

On August 28th, last year, I lost the feline love of my life, Ira. That left just one, Darth Kitten, usually known as Anakin Skywalker. Ani, Nanny Boo. My baby.

His mother left him on my doorstep when he was 2 1/2 weeks old.  He waited for her to come back and she never did.  We took him in, and with Athene's help I was able to get the little guy past the bad  times.  No baby cat should be separated from his mother before 8 weeks, but these were exigent circumstances and we did the best we could.

He was a scrappy little thing, desperate to eat and equally desperate to avoid any attempt to clean his little muzzle after smearing it with formula.  He was a hyperactive bundle of baby cat energy, and an incipient escape artist.  When we were looking for the right name for him, my unsentimental husband said we should call him Darth Kitten.  I thought that was a bit harsh.  Rob insisted he was a devil cat and a baby Sith Lord.  I saw the good in him and named him Anakin.  Anakin Skywalker Rothfeld.  After seven years, I have to admit he does have his Darth Cat moments, but they are few and far between, especially since he is now the recipient of all the attention previously lavished on his many feline brothers and sisters.

So it was the little devil cat - he clearly was the runt of the litter - that had me pinned down that morning. In his honor, I added a little shrimp to the devilled eggs.  (Get it?  Devil cat with shrimp?  Ouch, that's worse than my last pun.

Let's set some ground rules here - I don't know when some American lexicological genius decided to change the spelling, but the British still spell the name of this recipe correctly, with two L's.  Spelling it "deviled" makes no sense, at least according to the spelling rules I was taught at P.S 119 in Brooklyn, circa 1960.  Spell it that way, the only way you can pronounce it is de-VEYE-led, just like defiled.  Seriously?  Defiled eggs?

Devilled eggs are easy to make, and a great culinary canvas for the creative cook.  There are so many different variations as to constitute a statistical universe, and they are (almost) all delicious.  The ones I've included below are very close to the traditional mayo and mustard mix.

To hard cook the eggs:  Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.  Place the eggs into muffin tin cups and bake for 30 minutes.  Fill a large bowl with ice water and place the finished eggs into the bowl until cool enough to handle and peel.  After they are peeled, return them to the ice water bath to finish chilling.

Good Basic Devilled Eggs

8 hard cooked eggs
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 teaspoon pickle juice
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/8 teaspoon salt
white pepper
a few drops Crystal hot sauce
1 teaspoon fresh dill, finely chopped

Garnish:
Smoked paprika
Dried parsley flakes (crumbled)

Cut the eggs in half and remove the yolks to a medium mixing bowl.  Mash with a fork until they are completely broken up.  Add the remaining ingredients and mix with the fork until smooth and fluffy.  Pick out the best 12 egg white halves.  Fill them with the yolk mixture using a small spoon or a piping bag.  Garnish with the paprika and parsley.  Refrigerate for at least an hour before serving.  If holding longer, cover and return to the fridge.

Another Good Basic Devilled Egg with a Shrimp Garnish

12 hardcooked eggs
1/2 cup mayo
2 teaspoons French's yellow mustard

Follow the above directions for preparing the yolks and filling the eggs.  Pick out your 20 best egg white halves.

For the garnish:
1/3 cup Goya Mayo-Ketchup (Salsa Rosada)
Salt, pepper, dried dill weed, cayenne pepper
1/4 teaspoon lemon juice
20 frozen extra small cooked shrimp, defrosted under cold water, drained and patted dry

Combine the first three ingredients in a small bowl.  Cover and refrigerate for an hour.  Fold in the shrimp and return to the refrigerator for an hour.  Remove each shrimp from the dressing, let some drip off and carefully place on top of an egg half, pressing the shrimp gently into the yolk.

The Worst of Headaches, The Best of Worstenbroodjes - Pigs in a Blanket

A handful of Advil and two cups of coffee for breakfast and I've managed to hold the headache at bay. Now THAT'S a good morning.

In recognition of my Dutch heritage, I am going to write about that utterly delicious, minimally nutritious snack food, worstenboodjes.  Peter Capaldi would call them kilted sausages.  Most Americans would call them:

"Maxwell"

Pigs in a blanket.  Wonderfully yummy, pure retro, overwhelmingly kitschy little hors d'oeuvres that have survived any and every food fad and diet since 1968.

You know you love them, don't deny it.  Pigs in blankets are the first appetizer to run out, even at the toniest weddings, assuming the parents of the bridezilla were smart enough to include them on the menu.  As an at-home fun food, they are easy to make and the different flavor combinations are countless.  I was lucky to find crescent dough in a seamless sheet at BJs, which gave me plenty of dough to play with.

I tried preparing my worstenboodjes from little smokies, and also from Sabrett hot dogs.  I cut the dough first and then wrapped each little individual sausage; I wrapped the whole hot dogs in a whole sheet of dough, baked them and then cut them; and also wrapped a whole hot dog, cut it into bite-sized pieces, and then baked them.  Obviously you are not limited to hot dogs; any fully cooked sausage will work.

Condiments to dip into before and after baking.  Once rolled in dough, bake for 11 to 12 minutes.

Or stuff that puppy with mozzarella, drizzle a little garlic olive oil over the cheese and shower with Italian seasoning.  Place the stuffed sausage on dough that has been dressed with a line of sun-dried tomato pesto.  Close it up, pinch the dough, cut each wrapped sausage into six pieces and place seam side down on a baking sheet.  Place into a 375 degree oven and bake for 15 to 20 minutes.

To tell you the truth, the best ones are the little dogs, either cocktail franks or little smokies, individually wrapped, with the dipping sauce in a little bowl nearby.  Toothpicks optional.

The Fry Who Loved Me - Spritely Fried Green Tomatoes

When I moved to Florida in 1991, I was almost 40, and had already prepared something on the order of 10,314,424,798,490 meals for family, friends, coworkers, a couple of enemies and passing strangers. Despite that, I had never prepared nor even tasted a fried green tomato. Or grits. Or the iconic collard green.  Clearly, there was a serious lack in my culinary education.  While Florida is often referred to as "the least southern of the southern states" the truth is that you are much more likely to find grits rather than hot oatmeal on a Florida breakfast menu.

A tomato down south is not merely a colorful accompaniment for a wedge salad - instead, chefs fry the green ones like a slice of eggplant for a nice Italian parm, or make pies out of the red ones.  Yes, tomato pie.  Unbelievably good.  When I find a decent green tomato that is NOT cozying up to its riper, red cousin, I grab it, segregate it from all the other fruit and vegetables in the shopping cart, and rush it home before it begins to show the slightest blush of pink.  If I am not going to use it immediately, I put it in the refrigerator to slow down the ripening process, while the red tomatoes sit out on the counter at room temperature.

You've met these green tomatoes before.  I finally got around to frying them. 

3/4 cup self-rising flour

1/4 cup cornstarch

3/4 cup Sprite or 7-Up

1/8 teaspoon cayenne powder

1/4 teaspoon white pepper

dash each of salt and onion powder

canola oil for frying

First, get the tomatoes ready.  Slice them into just under 1/2 inch slices, 5 to 6 slices from each tomato.  Lay them out on a rack over the sink, and salt both sides using kosher salt.  Let them sit for a half hour, then rinse off the salt with cold water.  Pat the tomatoes as dry as possible with paper towels.  You can see that some of the tomatoes were turning red despite my best efforts.  Once a tomato is too far down the Communist road, don't bother to fry it.

In a medium mixing bowl, combine the dry ingredients and seasoning and then whisk in the Sprite until the mixture has a consistency like pancake batter.  Heat about an inch or two of oil in a deep skillet.  Dip each tomato slice into the batter, let the excess drip off, and slide the tomato into the hot oil.  Repeat with the other tomato slices, half at a time.  Fry until brown on each side and then remove to a rack placed over foil.  

I don't have a recipe for any particular dipping sauce, although we've used commercial creamy horseradish sauce when I've breaded the tomatoes during other high frying adventures.  This time, we tried something else, and it was a fabulous flavor fusion.

Definitely worth a trip to Georgia, even if it's not peach season.