Pick Your Poison - Egg Salad and Garlic Bread

Wednesday - My first full day on approved sick leave.  It is hard to gather my thoughts about this and other things. My head is not working well, which is why the decision was made, not by me, but for me, by compassionate supervisors.

There is more to the story (isn't there always?) but now is not the time.

Today I have a bunch of forms from my human resources department that need to be downloaded, printed, and attended to.  I tried reading some of them yesterday, and again today, but the words were shuffling in front of my eyes and I could not extract their meaning.  Let's try this again tomorrow, shall we?  I also have to make an appointment for a CAT scan of my brain, but can't do that right now, either.

"This is your brain on spaetzle"

Having said all of the things I can't do, let me think about what I can do.  I can make egg salad, and I can prepare some more garlic bread.  I can also complete the blog post on spaetzle and publish it.  I prepared the spaetzle on Monday evening, a final remnant of happier times, ha.  More like a moment of calm between storms.

Does anyone still eat egg salad?  Or is there anyone who doesn't know how to make it?  All I really need to say here is that I love it - that I now hard cook my eggs in the oven, 350 for 30 minutes - that I break up the cooled and peeled eggs with my favorite utensils, my hands - and that all they need to taste perfect is mayonnaise (yes, Hellmans, why do you even ask?), kosher salt, and white pepper.

Can I tell you how weird it is to be sitting in my favorite couch corner and watching everyone else going to court?

So the egg salad is done, and I am working on the garlic bread.  I bet there is a whole generation, maybe even two, of kids who think garlic bread comes from the freezer section of their local supermarket.  When I first learned to make this back in college, we used garlic powder, which still works just fine, but I now use 4 cloves of fresh, 1 stick of butter softened to room temperature, 1 heaping tablespoon mayonnaise, salt, pepper, and some variation on Italian seasoning.  Today I went with a touch of cayenne pepper, basil, oregano, a little sugar to balance the oregano, and a dusting of grated Romano.  Wrap it in aluminum foil, shiny side on the inside, and bake at just about any temperature until the butter is melted and the bread is as crusty as you like it.

I love this bread.

And now my head is starting to hurt.  I tried to watch television at around 5 pm, but even when I lowered the sound, it hurt my ears.  Then I got annoyed at everyone on The Five for picking on Hillary Clinton.  I don't know what I expected, since they always pick on Hillary.  Then I got annoyed at Hillary, who I have wholeheartedly supported for years, for getting herself into yet another situation. Then I got annoyed at William Devane and his damn Rosland Capital commercials.  Then I tried watching CNBC - that lasted all of 30 seconds - and switched over to the Weather Channel for something totally non-political.  That got me depressed for all the people up north, who are facing something called Winter Storm Thor.

Oh dear God in Heaven, now subpoenas have been issued for Hillary's private email communications while Secretary of State.  I am so damn tired of Clinton scandals.  I am also tired of Congressman Trey Gowdy's hair-do.  He reminds me of the Bob's Big Boy statue.  The man has had more hair-do changes than Cher.

I am not, however, tired of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.  It seems I have picked my poison, at least for this evening.  But wait!  The Magic are playing the Phoenix Suns.  And the dill pickle soup went down just fine.

Life is good.  Different, but good.

Just Before the Storm - Spaetzle

Monday - If egg noodles and dumplings got married and had a child, it would be spaetzle.  Spaetzle is the German name for these cute little egg dumplings, while in Hungarian cuisine these are referred to as galuska or nokedli.  A rose by any other name and all that jazz.  My husband's Hungarian Grandma Blanche used to make something called "nuckaluck" (my spelling) which I presume was the same, or similar.  I don't know how Grandma Blanche made them, but I do require the services of a spaetzle maker.  Non-electric, inexpensive, indispensable.

Spaetzle

2 cups all-purpose flour

4 extra-large eggs

2 teaspoons kosher salt

white pepper, to taste

water, as needed (about 2 tablespoons)

butter for the cooked spaetzle

non-stick spray

Fill a medium pot 2/3 full and set on the stove to boil.  Add a good amount of salt to the water.  Spray the spaetzle maker with the non-stick spray.

In large bowl, place about a tablespoon or two of cut up butter.

Put the flour into a medium bowl and with a wooden spoon, make a well in the center.  Crack the eggs into the well, and add the kosher salt and pepper.  Start mixing the egg and flour together with the wooden spoon until well combined .  Add a little water as needed to make a smooth, but sticky batter.

Position the spaetzle maker over the boiling water, and let gravity push the batter through the holes of the spaetzle maker while you slide the holder back and forth, into the boiling water. Cook the spaetzle for at least five minutes, until they are tender, then remove from the pot using a slotted spoon.  Let the excess water drip off each spoonful, and then add to the bowl with the butter.  Continue until all of the spaetzle has been removed to the large bowl, and then add another tablespoon of cut up butter and stir gently so that the spaetzle is lightly coated with melted butter.  Season with more salt and pepper to taste.  You serve this plain, or as the recipient of a tasty sauce.  Enjoy.

Good-bye, yellow brick road

Tuesday - And in the end, fibromyalgia won.

It is going to take me a little while - hours, days, weeks - to process the last day.  But I believe that everything happens for a reason.

I'm not trying to be mysterious.  I am on sick leave for now, at least until I can resolve my health issues.  I have a few more tests coming up in the near future.

In the meantime ... well, I don't know what I am going to be doing.  Trying to de-stress, I suppose.  Now there's a plan.

The Whole Megillah - Hamantaschen (Cookies for Purim)

My son reminded me that Purim begins at sundown on Wednesday, March 4, and I have yet to bake a single hamantaschen.  Oy, if I'm not careful, somebody is going to come along and take away my balaboosteh designation.  Can't let that happen.

Cory as Mordecai, circa 1997, giving advice to "Queen" Esther

I have two hamantaschen recipes, and this is my favorite, as it is closest to the cookie-like dough I grew up eating in New York.  Purim is a rather happy holiday, and we Jews are not only permitted but encouraged to be rowdy.  The adults can get verschnickert, while the kids can buzz around on excess sugar.  The important thing is to yell "boo!" whenever the villain's name, Haman, is spoken during the reading of the Megillah, and to eat a lot of hamantaschen.

Urban Baker Hamantaschen (adapted from Joan Nathan)

2/3 cup (10 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons) butter, room temperature

1/2 cup sugar

1 extra large egg

1/2 tsp. vanilla

2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour, sifted

1 tsp. baking powder

a pinch of kosher salt

Filling choices: Prune (lekvar) and apricot are the fillings I grew up with.  Poppy seed (mohn) is very traditional, and raspberry has become very popular (and delicious).  Solo brand puts out all of these fillings, which are much better to use than preserves or jams which do not hold up well during the baking process and will leak from the seams of the cookie.  Nutella, that cocoa hazelnut mouthful of joy, is another filling that works well.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Whisk flour, baking powder, and salt in a bowl. Set aside. In the bowl of your food processor fitted with the metal blade, cream butter and sugar together.  Add egg and vanilla.  Slowly add dry ingredients.  Mix thoroughly until the dough forms a ball.  Wrap dough in plastic wrap, and chill for at least 3 hours or overnight.

Roll out dough on a floured work surface to 1/8″ thickness (I cut the dough into quarters, and rolled out each piece between sheets of wax paper.  Worked like a charm.)  Cut circles of your dough. with  a 3 inch round cookie cutter. In the center of each circle put a small amouth (scant 1 teaspoon) of filling.  Resist the impulse to overfill the cookie.  Dip your finger in some water and run your finger around the outer edge of the dough. Fold into a three cornered shape, allowing some of the filling to show. Line your baking sheet with a silicon baking pad (silpat), or parchment paper, place the hamantaschen about 2 inches apart, and bake for 14-16 minutes or until the outer edge is golden brown.  Remove from the baking sheet with a metal spatula and place on a cooling rack.

Hopefully, I'll have some photos to share of freshly-baked hamantaschen once I get around to actually baking them.

Size Really Does Matter - Monday Morning Mississippi Mud Brownies

Friday - I finished crocheting the hat and I am perplexed.  Even though I went down a bit on the size of the crochet hook, it is still, in my opinion, too big as well as too long.  So I frogged back one full row, and if and when I ever get up from this corner of the couch, I'll try it on and check in the mirror.  But I don't hold out much hope, and I see myself frogging back even more, and fiddling with the increases.

I find this frustrating.  The hat is pretty, and I like the yarn I picked, but it is simply not working out as a hat for a chemo patient.  If anything, it should be a little snug to make up for the lack of hair.  Now the pattern called for a 4.5 mm hook - that's a G hook.  I tend to crochet (and knit) a little loosely, so I almost always go down a size of hook or needle.  When I started to crochet the hat, I chose a 4.25 mm hook - that's a G hook.  Yes, I know.  But maybe I need to go down one more size, to a 4.0 mm hook.  That's a G hook.

Yeah, I know.  It's totally annoying.  Not only the whole size thing, but I know from experience that a 4.0 mm hook can result in a tight stitch, which is not usually desirable.  I see myself frogging the whole darn hat.  I see myself doing that tomorrow.

I also see myself making spaetzle tomorrow, to soak up flavors from the pork stew I made earlier in the week, and the sausage, peppers, and broccoli I threw into the crockpot earlier today. That's not a recipe, that's a clean-up-the-fridge sort of deal which relies on a jar of bottled marinara sauce to pull the ingredients - frozen Italian sausage, sweet baby peppers, onion, and frozen broccoli - together.  A can of diced tomatoes, Italian seasoning, granulated garlic, salt, pepper, and a touch of sugar.  Four hours on High.  Oops. I guess that's a recipe.  Enjoy.

Saturday - I know I told you about my new toy, a Cuisinart griddler (like a George Foreman - very cool).  Yesterday I finally unboxed it and tried it out.  What I had in mind was to try heating up a couple of  frozen Perdue chicken patties that have been in my freezer, unopened, long enough to be approaching their "use by" date.  The results were very positive; the patties were cooked through evenly and had a nice crust.   Tasty snacking with some honey-mustard sauce.

This morning I attempted a grilled cheese with bacon. Very simple - two slices of white sandwich bread, two slices of extra-sharp cheddar, a slice of cooked bacon broken up so as to fit on the sandwich.  I think I need to learn a little more about my cool new machine before I offer to whip up a half dozen grilled cheese for friends or family.

Please stop laughing.  Please.

One of the symptoms of fibromyalgia/CPS is a sudden change in vision.  I did not know that, and was totally unprepared for my inability to see at a distance, which developed over the past month.  It was scary; I could not see signs nor the faces of people walking towards me.  I have had the same eye prescription since I was a teenager, 20/500 in one eye and 20/550 in the other.  I always considered myself blind as a bat, and adapted to that reality a very long time ago.  Third grade, to be precise.  That's when the blackboard turned fuzzy and stayed fuzzy.

I made an appointment at Target Optical, where I have been getting my glasses for years.  Once I got there, I politely declined having my pupils dilated, and the exam went pretty quickly.  The good news is that I do not have cataracts.  The bad news, not unexpected, is that my vision has deteriorated, a lot.    Those new glasses cannot come fast enough.  20/700, for crying out loud.

Cooking plans for today went out the window, but for a good reason - we decided to go out for Thai food tonight, at Chai Thai in Hunter's Creek.  Oh my.  The food there is always fantastic and tonight was no different.  Robert ordered the roast duck with panang sauce; Cory had yum woosun, which had extra thin noodles and ground pork and other stuff; and I ordered the duck noodle soup.  The bowl was the size of a large mixing bowl and every element was both simple yet incredibly delicious. The hoisin chicken legs can wait till later in the week, and the spaetzle, well maybe tomorrow.

What could not wait were the brownies I wanted to bring in for my office peeps.  Since the recipe starts with a brownie mix and is ridiculously easy, I went ahead and finished them off.  They are pretty, with a marbled frosting of marshmallow fluff and chocolate frosting, and hopefully tasty.

Monday Morning Mississippi Mud Brownies

1 pkg, brownie mix
1/2 cup canola oil
1/4 cup water
2 extra-large eggs
1/4 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/4 cup white (vanilla) chips
7-8 oz. marshmallow creme
1-1 lb. container creamy chocolate frosting

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Spray the bottom of a 9 by 13 inch baking pan with nonstick spray. In a medium mixing bowl combine the brownie mix, oil, water, and eggs.  Mix with a wooden spoon until just blended.  Stir in the chocolate chips and the vanilla chips.  Spread the batter into the baking pan.  Bake for 28 to 30 minutes.

Remove the brownies to a cooling rack.  Scoop the marshmallow creme onto the hot brownies, and as the creme softens, spread it across the entire top of the brownies.  Remove the cover and seal from the container of frosting.  Set in the microwave and cook for 30 seconds.  Stir it, then pour over the marshmallow.  With a butter knife, swirl the frosting and marshmallow to create a marbled look.  Cool completely before cutting.  I like to put frosted baked goods in the refrigerator, especially those I have to cut.  Pretty, right?

"I have been, and always shall be, your fan" - Dill Pickle Soup

Today is Saturday, and based on the weather, it is what my grandmother-who-raised-me used to call a "mizzo" day.  It's one constant rain drizzle out there, and the skies are a sullen gray.  The electrician came to check out a few problems and gave us bad news. I keep repeating to myself, the house is almost 90 years old.  The plumbing, the electrical, the roof - it's always bad news.  Comes with the territory.

Anyway, that makes it a perfect day to (finally) prepare the Dill Pickle Soup.  No, really.  I know I've been promising for almost three weeks, but this time I mean it.  This is my recipe, inspired by the recipe created by Cathy Pollak for NoblePig.com.  Incidentally, I have no control over the rather weird text formatting.  Sorry about that.

1 stick butter, divided

1 bunch green onions, sliced thin, white and light green parts only (about 3/4 cup)

2 stalks celery, chopped (about 1/2 cup)

3 carrots, chopped (about 1 1/2 cups)

1 small clove garlic, minced

kosher salt, white pepper

2 large Russet potatoes, peeled and cubed (about 1 3/4 pounds)

1 - 49 1/2 oz. can Swanson Natural Chicken Broth

3 large dill pickles, chopped (about 1 generous cup) - purchase a large jar of dill pickles, as you will also be using most of the pickle juice; I use Batampte, found in the refrigerator section.  Also, I like the pickles chopped fine, but you may like them not-so-fine.

1 cup sour cream

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/4 cup water

2 cups dill pickle juice

1 1/2 teaspoons Old Bay seasoning

1/2 teaspoon white pepper

1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

In a large pot, melt half of the stick of butter over medium high heat.  Add the green onions, celery, carrots, and garlic clove.  Season with a small amount of salt and white pepper to taste. Lower the heat to medium and sauté the vegetables for 10 to 15 minutes, until the onions are softened.

Add the potatoes, the remaining butter, and the chicken broth.  Bring to a boil and cook until the potatoes are tender, about 20 minutes.  Do not overcook the potatoes.  Add the pickles and continue to boil for 10 more minutes.  Reduce the heat to medium.

Combine the sour cream, flour, and water, and then add 1 cup of the boiling soup liquid, and whisk together until smooth.  Gradually add this to the soup, whisking well after each addition.  Stir in the pickle juice, the Old Bay, white pepper and cayenne, then cook for another 5 minutes.  The pickle juice is pretty salty on it's own, so don't add any more salt until you taste the finished soup.  I like salty foods, and did not need to add any more at the end.

This soup is crazy good!  You've got to try it!

So let me segue back to yesterday's unfinished post.  Part of it was a list of dishes I have been thinking about making this weekend.  As I sit here, the dill pickle soup is done.  I have no chicken wings in the house, nor do I feel the need to sally forth in the rain to purchase them.  Not sure if the potato salad was a good idea, so I'm crossing it off the list.  I do want to make the brownies, but not until my back recovers from standing for over an hour while preparing the soup.  

And then there was the sentence which ended rather abruptly - "In some ways, it is a true shame that the public is essentially unaware of" - and which should have ended - "the quality and quantity of work done by the attorneys for the Department."  Confidentiality and ethics most often preclude me from going into too many details about my work, or what goes on in my courtroom, which is unfortunate.  Juvenile dependency court proceedings are sui generis.  I have practiced in a number of other areas, but I always come back to dependency.

And that's all I can say about that.

Finally, I just want to return to the passing of Leonard Nimoy yesterday.  This link will take you to the article in the Hollywood Reporter, which includes a long list of tweets and quotes from many celebrities, mourning his death.  If you are a Trek fan, you should recognize all of the references (Genesis planet, anyone?), and probably already had them come to mind.  The one I did not think of, which is the title of this post, came from Nathan Fillion, and I found that it was perfect.  Like Nathan, but that's another blog post.

A Month, A Birthday, A Life

For such a short month, February is big on birthdays, and today is no exception.  Happy birthday to my cousin Gary - well actually, my cousin Sheryl's husband Gary - well, more precisely, my husband's cousin Sheryl's husband Gary - well, you get it.  We're family, and it's his birthday.  Happy Birthday, Grandpa!  I mean, Gary!  Boy, does time fly or what?

This has been a bizarre morning, full of aches and chills. Yes, chills. In Florida.  And just now, having committed myself to standing upright to get dressed for work, I feel light-headed, almost woozy.  Back hurts (what else is new?), as does my stomach.  Ahh, crap.  Throw me out and start over.

Ah ha, I made it into the office and thereafter to court for an emergency hearing.  I hobble triumphant!  I'm still waiting to be heard - another rather passionate hearing has preceded mine - but in the meantime, I am enjoying the hearing. Fabulous advocacy. And that's all I can say about that.

In some ways, it is a true shame that the public is essentially unaware of

Dill pickle soup
Mississippi mud brownies
Hoisin chicken wings
Potato salad

I made garlic bread last night - and have eaten it for breakfast - and cooked off the bacon from the open package, so the boys can snack happy.  Then there's my newest  toy, and I can use some of that bacon in a grilled panini with cheese and tomato. Ooh la la!

I was in the middle of drafting this post when I saw the news that Leonard Nimoy had passed away.  For one moment I thought I might lose my composure right there in court. I was just 13 when I first saw Star Trek in 1966, and I was immediately smitten with the stories and the characters.  The Star Trek universe was, and remains, very real to me.  After all, no one questions that Gene Roddenberry was a visionary.  With all that, my favorite character was Nimoy's Spock, half-human, half Vulcan, never really fitting in anywhere.  I suppose I could go on and on about Leonard Nimoy, but all of the news agencies have already done so, and there have been the heartfelt postings from former cast members.  What I do want to say is that Leonard Nimoy was a mensch, and that the world - no, the universe - will be a poorer place with his passing.

I apologize for the unfinished post, but I'll pick up on it tomorrow.

The Day of the Doctor

Thursday - It's the Day of the Doctor.

No, not that Doctor.  For you non-Whovians, the gentleman with the hat is actor Sylvester McCoy, the Seventh Doctor.  Cory accidentally got the opportunity to take the photo a couple of weeks ago at the Coliseum of Comics.

I've actually got two appointments today, one with my PCP for blood test results, and one with a gastroenterologist to schedule an endoscopy and colonoscopy.  Ick.  Just knock me out and do what you've got to do.  Ick.  The colonoscopy is routine, although I've managed to avoid having one done for at least 12 years.  I hope I don't regret my lapse.  The endoscopy is to try to find out why I lost so much weight so fast this past year, which is tied to why I cannot swallow most food.

The news is depressing.  The government controls the Internet.  I don't know if that's good or bad.  Loretta Lynch is on her way to becoming Attorney General.  I don't think that's good.  The Clintons are in trouble again over donations made to the Clinton Foundation by foreign governments.  That one hurts, because I would like to see Hillary win the 2016 election.  More than 200 Christians have been kidnapped by ISIS.  Christian children are being tortured, murdered.  Why are we allowing history to repeat itself?  Where is our leadership?

I think that's all I can deal with tonight.  The endoscopy is set for the end of March; the colonoscopy will be set sometime after that.

Mark this day - Happy birthday to you!

Wednesday - Oh hell, back feels broken.  Let's work on sitting up straight, shall we?  The Yorkies are all downstairs napping (it's hard work waking up, walking down the steps, eating, and peeing) so Anakin is up here with me, enjoying some Mommy and Me time.  I love my doggies, and I know they love me, but nothing beats the love from a purring kitty.  Yes, I am a cat person.

I have another full day ahead of me, so while I am moving slowly, I will make it in to the office.  No court for the rest of this week, which right now is a tremendous relief.  Catching up with paperwork while trying to adapt to the very stringent requirements from a new judge has been stressful, and stress is bad - for everyone, but particularly for folks with chronic pain disorders.  I'm going to grit my dentures and carry on.

I took another look at the recipe for dill pickle soup, and I am still determined to make it, but it needs a little tweaking.  Just a tiny bit.  We'll see if I can manage a trip to Publix later.

Ah ha!  One step closer to making that dill pickle soup.  I stopped into Publix on the way home and snagged a couple of potatoes and a bunch of green onions.  That bit of shopping plus my work during a shortened day knocked me out.  But I did manage to work for most of the day, so I consider it a victory.  Now that I have all the ingredients, including some kick ass pickles, it's just a matter of time.  Let's hope I gather enough energy to cook the soup before the potatoes sprout and become inedible.

Speaking of time passing, I want to wish my very dear friend Mark a very happy birthday.  Hopefully he is celebrating his 62nd with more decorum than his 18th. Heheh. Yes, I know him that long.  We started college together at New Paltz in 1970 and have been friends ever since.  I have trouble believing that much time has passed, but Mark has two grown children, two grandchildren (twins), and another on the way, so I have to believe it.

Happy, happy birthday, old friend, and may you have many more happy and healthy years to celebrate with family and friends.

From chicken soup to pickle soup

Tuesday - Chicken soup for lunch, and then, we are soupless.  Never mind that the gorgeous pork, apple and sweet potato stew I made the other day is sitting in the fridge, waiting to be devoured.  Never mind that the smell of sweet cinnamon and earthy cumin emanating from that stew could drive a sane person hungry.  Then there is the rich, complex sauce contrasting perfectly with tender cubes of tasty pork ... never mind, you get the idea.  If you have not checked out the recipe for the Vaguely Mediterranean Pork, Apple and Sweet Potato Stew, I recommend you do so.  Buy a box of Near East Couscous, any flavor - I love the pine nut - and prepare it according to package directions.  Nothing easier.  Serve it with the stew, then sit back and enjoy the accolades.

In the meantime, I have to replenish my soup supply.  Once again I am planning on preparing that dill pickle soup recipe I found online.  That will require a stop at Publix, and I won't know until the end of the day if I am up to it.  Stay tuned.

I've paid little attention to the news these last few days, and just now trying to catch up.  So, did the head of the Veteran's Administration really lie about his military service?  Wasn't he hired to clean up the scandals, not create a new one?

Islamic terrorists are asking US domestic terrorists to blow up the Mall of America, and several other well-known and/or super-sized malls around the world.  The Secretary of Homeland Security is taking the threats seriously, which is more than you can say for the President.

"No boom today.  Boom tomorrow."

Ah, forget the dill pickle soup.  A very full and productive day at the office, and it's time to go home and rest.  I feel a rant coming on about kidnapped Christians in Syria, and that is going to consume some energy.  No energy left to go to Publix, and besides, I have leftover shrimp with lobster sauce in the fridge.

Not a bad day.  I worked, I napped, I knit, I had some leftover Chinese food.  I got to see Terry in the office.  She will be back full time starting Monday, which is a good thing.  I have missed her.

Contemplation of Cats, Canines, Cauliflower, Cooking, Baking, Biscuits, and Brownies

Sunday - My back hurts but it was worth it ... the doggies are clean!  They were very well-behaved while being showered, shampoo'ed, and blown dry, but there are four of them and I was on my feet for quite a while.  So I think it fair to say we are all knocked out from the experience.

The good news is that their hair - Yorkies have hair and don't shed - is sweet-smelling and soft to the touch.  The other good news is that I do not need to cook as I have a ridiculous amount of prepared food in the refrigerator.  That doesn't mean I don't have the itch to cook, but there is no need.  Especially as we have plans for sushi tonight, Cory's choice of restaurant for his birthday.  I probably would have chosen a.lure in Savannah.  Ha.  Still dreaming about fois gras on a deep-fried Krispy Kreme.  Sushi it is.

I have been thinking about baking beer cheese biscuits and brownies.  If I don't have to cook, I might as well bake, right?  Also, I have cauliflower mac n cheese and dill pickle soup on the brain.  That may explain the brain fog.  As Captain Picard would order, "make it so."  If only it was that easy - I can control my mental food meanderings a lot easier than I can control the symptoms of CPS.  Jean-Luc, you big faker.

In a whirlwind tour we've so far hit CVS, Petco, and Bed, Bath and Beyond.  Target next, so Rob can pick up his new glasses.  Then to Publix, back to CVS, and home.  And somewhere in there, a stop at hhgregg to look at DVD players.  This was Sunday on speed, and good thing I had my cane.  I've also been asking Rob to push the shopping cart, which is absolutely not the way I normally roll.  Pushing the shopping cart has always been my job, one I emotionally inherited from my grandmother-who-raised-me, and having to ask someone else to do it was a bummer.

Incidentally, what is going on with these businesses that do not capitalize their names?  Who decides these things, e.e.cummings?

While we were at Petco, we could not help but notice it was a cat adoption day.  While Robert set his jaw, I checked out every tabby there.  I had no interest in the females, other than noticing how absolutely sweet their faces were.  Two tabbies were asleep and refused to engage in conversation.  One handsome boy with a white chin, neck and chest was billed as "friendly" but there was no truth in advertising; when I offered him my finger, he sniffed, bit me lightly, and turned his back.  Alrighty then.                                
At Publix, I fought hard with myself to avoid new cooking projects for this week.  I have enough food in the refrigerator to throw my own block party.  With Robert's support, I did not give the meat counter even a passing glance, despite my recent thoughts of Swedish meatballs.  I whooshed through produce without touching even one head of cauliflower.  I did buy a jar of Batampte dill pickles; that chicken soup is almost gone and I have to have soup available.

Monday - Last night was one long adventure in sleep deprivation.  All four boys - Woodie, Anakin, Indiana, and Romeo - were bad to the bone, running and jumping all over our bed (and us) like it was the court at Amway Arena and they were members of the Orlando Magic.  No sleep adds to my stress, and stress adds to my pain.  Yesterday my brain was befogged and I could not recall words I needed.  I am afraid today may not be any better, and I have three trials.

I meditated, as I always do in the morning.  I took my medication, including two Advil.  That Gabapentin is not delivering the relief I had hoped for, something I will share with the doctor on Thursday.  I am approaching the point that I will have to leave the house and head to court.  Part of me feels like I am taking a short walk to my execution.  The other part is enjoying the sounds of birds tweeting up in the big, ancient trees near my house.

The tears are here, in back of my eyes, I can feel them, but I can't shed them.

Oh So Vermischt - Banana-Applesauce Muffins

During my long and chaotic life, I have had a number of mortifying moments, but Friday's events took the cake.  Or the muffin, since that is the recipe I am hoping to share, at least before the weekend is up.

First, let me say that I have pretty much decided to use the cane most of the time.  Here's my logic:  using it on the really bad days goes without saying; on the not-so-bad days, I walk around normally, which is to say, often.  I am always getting up from my desk to get something, or to talk with my supervisor or my paralegal extraordinaire, or to walk the 2 blocks from my home to the courthouse entrance. So there is always impact, although in the real world, walking is considered low impact.  I love to walk. Apparently in my fibromyalgic nightmare world, it is enough to rattle my nerves and cause to me to have one or more bad days.  I figure if I use the cane most of the time, it will help to absorb some of that impact, and assist me to avoid some of those reactive bad days.  So I was using the cane all day Thursday in court and in the office.  As it turned out, good thing, because by midday, I was starting to hurt despite my best efforts.  The downside is that I look like a permanently handicapped person.  Well, maybe that's not all that far from the truth.  But it sets people to worrying about me.  I guess I hadn't realized just how much.

Second, I have not been able to summon the energy or the interest to make up my face in the morning.  Put that together with the fact that I am in some kind of chronic discomfort, and I can only describe my face as ghastly.  Clean, but ghastly.  Oh yes, and my weight hasn't been this low since my gastric bypass surgery, when it fell below my post-surgery goal weight and way below my Weight Watcher's goal weight.

To sum it all up, I look like a candidate for a casket-fitting, and with the omni-present brain fog, I act like one as well.  So, when I did not show up for an 8:30 hearing on Friday, did not call or email my supervisor and paralegal, did not answer my phone, or return any messages ...

... my husband comes running upstairs to tell me there is a policeman downstairs for me - something about missing court - and for one crazed moment I thought the judge had ordered I be taken into custody for missing a hearing I hadn't realized nor remembered that I'd had. (Turns out my mistake the day before was checking the stack of files rather than the printed docket, but I didn't know that at the time, and just ran down the hall muttering "I don't have a hearing this morning, I checked!")  That I could even think that I was being arrested gives you an idea about my state of mind these past few weeks.

However, the truth of the matter asserted therein, as we lawyers like to say, proving that there was at least one phrase we remembered from law school, was that because I had been feeling so noticeably awful lately, when I did not show up for court, someone called my poor, beleaguered supervisor, and, having run to court in my place, when she could not reach me, there was a concern something truly terrible had happened to me.  In other words, I wasn't being arrested.  The policeman, who was actually one of my regular court deputies, headed out to check on my well-being, since I hadn't had much of that lately.  This is the same court deputy who escorted me home about a year ago, after the judge granted my petition for termination of parental rights following a lengthy, contentious trial, and the parents were somewhat upset with me.  I told you I worked with nice people, and for that reason alone, I am sorry my deputy had to see me in a robe, hair uncombed (who combs their hair when they are being arrested), and lacking certain foundation garments as well as my dentures.  My most profuse apologies to a fine gentleman, who probably ran out during his lunch hour to buy some brain bleach, or perhaps mental floss.  Yeah, it was that bad.

Thinking everything was back in some kind of order, I headed upstairs to get dressed, left a phone message and an email for my supervisor, and started to pull myself together ...

... when I hear Maria, Robert's long-time assistant, calling me, to tell me that DCF was on Robert's office phone.  So I ran back down the hall, this time muttering "what does DCF want, I don't have any minor children", forgetting for one crazy second that I work for DCF.  Fortunately, it was not one of the protective investigators, but rather it was my paralegal extraordinaire, doing the same thing the deputy had been doing. Apparently my inexplicable absence scared the bejesus out of everyone, (there was that time I was passed out in the car) and when I did not respond to my cellphone as expected (as I look at it now, it seems I missed six different phone calls from four different numbers.  Never heard them, and did not see them until it was too late to stem the tide of panic) she called my other paralegal extraordinaire, who is home recovering from surgery, for the number to Robert's office.

Can a person feel gratified and mortified at the same time?  The answer to that is a big, fat, honking yes.

I managed to get into work for all of 2.5 hours, because there were things I had to do, besides assuring my coworkers I was neither dead nor lying in a ditch somewhere out in Yeehaw Junction.  I had to get into the office to sign a stack of files the size of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and I had to get to court for the 2:00 hearing I did know about. And then, because the day hadn't been weird enough, ouch, I got hit right across the back when the hatch back door of the Expedition fell on me as I was reaching for files.

So, as I told the only other MOT lawyer (this ain't New York, you know) during my 15 minutes in court (at which time the judge ordered me to go home and rest, which was nice to hear since just that morning I thought she was having me arrested) I was completely vermischt.  In fact, I added, I was on my way to verblunget.  Since we have a trial together on Monday morning, the poor man now has something else to worry about.

Despite my jocular writing style (too much watching Mel Brooks) none of this was really funny, and it all points to the bitter fact that I am going to have to make some tough decisions in the near future.  But not today. Today I am doing nothing more complicated than washing dishes, bathing dogs, and baking banana-applesauce muffins.

So far ... two out of three ain't bad.  The dogs still smell like dogs.

Banana-Applesauce Muffins

2 large, very ripe bananas
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 cup Musselman's chunky applesauce
1/4 cup canola oil
2 extra-large eggs, lightly beaten with a fork
3/4 cup sugar
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
good pinch of salt

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Set up a 12-cup muffin tin with paper liners.  Break the bananas into a 2 cup liquid measuring cup, then mash them with a fork.  There should be just about one cup.  Stir in the lemon juice.  Add enough applesauce to make 2 cups, then transfer to a mixing bowl.  Add the oil, beaten eggs and sugar to the bowl and with a wooden spoon, mix all the wet ingredients together until well combined.  Add the remaining ingredients and stir till combined.  Do not over-mix.

Divide the batter evenly among the muffin cups, filling each one to the top. Bake for 20 to 22 minutes.  Move to a cooling rack and after 10 minutes, remove the muffins from the pan, and place them on a rack to cool completely.  These are wonderful.

The Spice Must Flow Again - Vaguely Mediterranean Pork, Apple, and Sweet Potato Stew

Thursday - My past two miserable weeks are taking a toll on my efficiency (ha ha). This has been my concern all along, since the CPS began flaring with annoying regularity.  Or irregularity.  But annoyingly frequent.  So maybe that should be annoyingly frequent irregularity?  Yeah, that's it.

I have been sitting on this unforgiving wooden bench since 8:30 this morning, and it is now 11:11 a.m.  I am waiting for my 10:00 a.m. case to be called.  And that's the way it is.  My back is starting to protest the less than optimal treatment.  I would love to head out to get something to drink (more coffee!!) and to be able to take my midday Gabapentin. Not that I have been taking a midday Gabapentin, but I am supposed to be and perhaps this would be a good time to start. Oh wait, the morning cases were not all called, have to come back at 1:30 p.m. for my 10:00 a.m. hearing.

STAY CALM

AND

DRINK COFFEE

And now I am sitting in a much more comfortable chair at counsel table, and I am deep in thought about ... banana muffins.  Well, my morning case has come and gone and I am just waiting for other counsel to review the order I just prepared.  So I am permitting my mind to wander, not that it ever needs my permission, and in addition to banana muffins I am thinking about Rachael Ray's recipe for Broccoli and Cauliflower Gratin Mac n Cheese.  I am thinking about getting rid of the broccoli, for starters.  I love broccoli but not in my macaroni and cheese.  Cauliflower, though, that's another matter.  Cauliflower and cheese sauce is one of my favorite food combinations, and I look forward to combining it with some macaroni, and the other stuff in Rachael's recipe, like sour cream, Dijon mustard, and chives.  I make no representations about completing or even starting either of these recipes.

Instead, let's talk about Vaguely Mediterranean Pork, Apple, and Sweet Potato Stew.  Like the asparagus, prosciutto, and bananas, I had picked up the ingredients for this particular crockpot recipe on Sunday.  Today is Friday.  While the bananas have clearly benefitted from their room temperature rest on my kitchen counter, the pork is nearing its expiration date.  Time to rock and roll.

Last night I put the stew ingredients together in the large 6 quart crock insert, covered it and put it into the refrigerator overnight.  This morning, just before I leave the building like Elvis, I will turn the crockpot on low setting for six hours until I can check it for doneness.

The inspiration for this recipe came from one of 37 crockpot cookbooks (okay, maybe only nine.  Or eleven).  I made some changes (surprise!), mostly additions or increases, and one notable substitution of sweet potatoes for white potatoes.  What makes this dish vaguely Mediterranean is the use of cinnamon and cumin, a combination you see in Greek cooking, for one.

1 tablespoon roasted garlic extra-virgin olive oil
2 pounds pork cubes for stew (best price was boneless pork ribs, which I cut into nice big cubes), seasoned with black pepper and granulated garlic.
1 1/2 medium sweet onions, halved and sliced, divided use
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 - 28 oz. can crushed tomatoes
2 large sweet potatoes, prepared as below
1 1/2 cups baby carrots, cut crosswise into halves or thirds
2 medium Golden Delicious apples, cut into cubes
1 - 10 1/2 oz. can Campbell's chicken broth
1/4 cup Gulden's spicy brown mustard
2 tablespoons packed light brown sugar
1 generous tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 generous tablespoon ground cumin
kosher salt and coarsely ground black pepper
dried thyme
dried chopped chives
1 1/2 cup frozen butter beans

Prepare the sweet potatoes: poke a couple of holes in each side of the potatoes, then place them into an aluminum baking pan.  Bake at 400 degrees for just 30 minutes, turning halfway through.  Remove from the oven and cover the pan with aluminum foil.  After about 15 minutes, remove the foil and pull the softened peel off.  Let the sweet potatoes cool completely (even better if you refrigerate overnight) before cutting them into cubes.

Assembling the stew: in a large deep skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat and add the pork.  Cook and stir until browned on all sides, then add one sliced onion (reserve the remaining half onion) and the garlic.  Cook for just 10 minutes, then transfer contents of skillet to a 6 quart crockpot insert.

Add the tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, and apples on top of the pork and onions.  Pour the chicken broth into the can from the tomatoes.  Add the mustard, brown sugar, cinnamon, cumin, salt and pepper to the can, and stir with a wooden spoon to combine everything, scraping up any remaining tomato.  Pour this over everything in the crockpot, and sprinkle with the thyme and chives.  With a metal serving spoon, carefully turn the ingredients in the crock over and over a few times to completely combine and evenly distribute everything.  Cover the crockpot and cook on low for six hours, carefully stirring after 3 hours (if you are not there to stir, don't worry about it.)

With cool water, rinse off any ice on the frozen butter beans and add them to the crockpot.  Cover and cook another hour, just until the carrots are done.  Try to avoid overcooking, or else the pork will start to shred and the sweet potatoes will disappear into the sauce.

You could serve this without anything more than a salad and maybe some bread, but I like the idea of making some couscous with chickpeas, and vegetables like zucchini to go with this really flavorful stew.

I'm Not Chucking Asparagus (I'm wrapping it in prosciutto)

So there I was in the midst of my misery, when I got a friend request on Facebook.  I love friend requests.  What's not to love?  Thank you for being my friend!

This one blew me away when I saw the name.  It was from my sister.  Yes, I have a sister.  From another mother, but the same mister.  This request thrilled me because Nora is not big on computers, and has never been on Facebook.  But her daughter, my niece Rachel has, and to make it easier for my sister and I to keep in touch, Rachel set up the Facebook account. Things like that are better than gabapentin.  Thank you, Rachel, and welcome to Facebook, Nora.

There was no way I was going to have to chuck out almost 2 pounds of gorgeous asparagus, no matter how lousy I was feeling, so I gathered my strength and the shreds of my dignity, and headed into the kitchen.

We had picked the asparagus and prosciutto up on Sunday, during our Big Box shopping expedition.  BJs had nice mushrooms, so I grabbed a box, with plans on drowning them in wine and butter.  When it came to green vegetables, it was a choice of fresh green beans, Brussel sprouts, and asparagus.  I left it to Rob, and he went for the asparagus.  Good call.  I know a couple of ways to prepare asparagus, including drizzling them with an unctuous blender Hollandaise, but I opted instead to wrap them in prosciutto.  Easy, right?

Now it's late in the Hump Day, and I've been practically incapacitated by this freaking fibromyalgia, and I am worried about losing my asparagus to some kind of refrigerator jungle rot.  It's now or never, I figure.  I'll just take breaks between the steps in preparation.

1 3/4 pound fresh asparagus, woody ends trimmed (I just cut them with a big sharp knife)

1 pound thinly sliced prosciutto

8 oz. cream cheese, softened

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

2 tablespoons "Mild" Jamaican Jolt Jerk Rub (or any herb and spice combination)

roasted garlic extra-virgin olive oil

freshly ground pepper

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Combine the softened cream cheese, lemon juice, and Jamaican Jolt and place into a ziptop plastic bag, pressing the mixture towards one corner, and making a small snip at the tip.  Lay out the prosciutto slices, four to six at a time.  Refrigerate the remaining prosciutto while preparing the roll ups.  Place two asparagus spears next to each other, towards one short end of each prosciutto slice. Pipe a column of cream cheese between the asparagus spears, then roll the prosciutto around the spears, covering the cream cheese carefully. Drizzle some of the olive oil over the exposed asparagus, and season with some of the pepper.  Place in the oven and roast the asparagus prosciutto rolls for 30 minutes.

So, with all the rest breaks, it is taking me for-frakking-ever.  The first batch of six came out beautiful but the asparagus was too tough after the recommended 20 minute cooking period.  The next batch is still in the oven with a 30 minute bake time.

For the last batch I am trying something I saw Robert Irvine do in one of his online recipes. Instead of roasting the whole package and hoping the asparagus and the prosciutto are perfectly done at the same time, I am cooking the asparagus first in boiling water, chilling it down immediately, and then applying the cream cheese filling and wrapping it in the prosciutto.  Most importantly, I am not putting it in the oven.  Prosciutto does nor need to be cooked to be eaten - think of melon wrapped in prosciutto, an appetizer that has never gone out of popularity.

I took a lot of pictures, so it will all make sense. I hope.

"Mild" Jamaican Jolt Dry Rub for those with a delicate palate:  (and here is a link to the original by Steven Raichlen)

2/3 cup dark brown sugar, packed

1/4 cup kosher salt

1/4 cup freeze dried chives

2 tablespoons coarse black pepper

2 tablespoons onion powder

2 tablespoons granulated garlic

1 teaspoon cayenne pepper, or to taste

1 tablespoon dried thyme

2 1/2 teaspoons ground allspice

2 teaspoons ground coriander

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

2 teaspoons dried ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

Combine all the ingredients in a bowl and whisk to combine.  Transfer to a large jar.  I keep this in my spice cabinet.

Later, after Cory came in from work and was piling his plate high with goodies from the fridge, we consulted regarding the asparagus.  This is a dish he knows well, as he has made it a number of times (without the cream cheese).  He liked both versions, and then told me how he handles the whole asparagus-doesn't-cook-as-fast-as-prosciutto issue:  he roasts the asparagus part-way first, lets the spears cool, and then wraps them in the prosciutto.  Returns them to the oven and voila! Everything cooks together, to the correct doneness, at the same time. My kid is a genius.

My personal preference turned out to be the cold version - boiled and chilled asparagus, a ribbon of seasoned cream cheese, all wrapped in prosciutto.  To my taste, perfect.

An Offal Tale - Pan-Fried Calf Liver with Onions and Bacon

I'm a lover of liver, whether it be chicken, calf, duck, goose or beef.  Foie gras tickles my fancy, especially when it is served on top of a fried Krispy Kreme doughnut, the way they prepared it at a.lure Restaurant in Savannah, Georgia.  Right now a.lure is serving cornmeal-crusted chicken livers on their appetizer menu, while nearby Vic's on the River, another favorite in which I've ordered their chicken liver offering in the past, right now has fried chicken liver sliders on their menu of sandwich selections.  More proof that, as my friend Dave has explained to me more than once, Southerners really are one of the Lost Tribes of Israel.  Also more proof of why I love Savannah.  OMG the food!  And by the way, one of the most beautiful cities I have ever visited.

Chicken livers are probably my all-time favorite, although my grandmother (she-who-raised me) made the most fantastic Jewish chopped liver using beef liver.  No hard-boiled eggs, either.  Her chopped liver was serious stuff, best consumed by people who came from Ashkenazic Jewish stock all the way back to the Russian shtetels of the nineteenth century.  In her mind, only Litvaks, Galicianes, and goyim ate chopped liver made from chicken liver, and as far as she was concerned, anyone adding chopped hard-boiled eggs to any chopped liver recipe was practically a heretic.

Preparing chopped beef liver was a production.  There had to be a lot of fried onions.  Substantial quantities of fried onions, which required peeling and chopping vast numbers of sharp yellow globes  capable of inducing more tears than Melanie's death scene in "Gone With The Wind."  Then you had to cook the liver, and I don't recall now if she broiled the liver (the kosher way to prepare it) or sautéed it in some of the onion-infused corn oil.  Her liver was never dried out, and she never kept kosher, so I'm voting for the sauté.

Finally, the cooked liver had to be eased into a meat grinder, which was of course, manual.  Mom still cooked like she was a young wife and mother back in the late 1920s, and wasn't big on any kind of electric appliances.  She did own a manual egg beater in addition to her hand grinder, which was pretty high-tech for her.

In time she came to appreciate the awesome qualities of true gehaktah leber made from chicken liver, which was a good thing since it was the way I preferred to make it.

When I was growing up in the Five Towns, our family used to go to a restaurant in Cedarhurst, the name of which I cannot remember. Two dishes I remember from the menu were Roumanian Tenderloin, which the rest of the world knows as skirt steak, and Liver with Onions or Bacon.  The liver was sliced thick - at least an inch, probably closer to an inch and a half, was crusty on both sides, and simply delicious.  I alternated choices, as the skirt steak and the liver were, and remain, two of my favorite foods in the world.  Ketchup was de riguere with both dishes (at this point, my beloved husband, who faithfully reads my blog posts, is no doubt shuddering with culinary horror.  Sorry, my love).

Chicken livers, and sometimes calf liver, are available in the regular meat case.  When available, I like to purchase organic chicken livers, but that's not absolutely necessary.  I do not buy the calf liver in the meat case,  just as I do not buy the veal, with the notable exception of breast of veal.  Veal is so expensive that it is rarely purchased by anyone, and it tends to sit there, passing the buy date while turning strange and unappetizing colors.

One day, when I was suffering major sticker shock while pricing brisket and ground beef, I decided to try the frozen calf liver, which seems to always be available at Publix.  I knew this was going to be something that only Rob and I would consume, because our son, who cheerfully eats all types of raw fish, eel, venison, elk, alligator, and ostrich, will not touch liver.  Take this kid into a Korean restaurant - or to Korea - and he will scarf down foods which leave me faint. Offer him a beautiful dish piled high with plump, sweet chicken livers cooked with tons of onions, garlic, and a touch of oregano, and he will run screaming into the night.

I blame it on a biology lesson he had, somewhere around fifth grade.

Anyway, if you are one of those people who think offal is awful, this would be a good time to jump ship.

1 pound of sliced bacon
1 large onion, halved and sliced
1 -1 pound package frozen calf liver (it comes sliced, skinned, and deveined), defrosted.
Milk or Half-and-Half
All-Purpose Flour
Kosher Salt
Coarsely Ground Black Pepper
Canola Oil

The night before, rinse the defrosted liver under cool water and place in a flat plastic container with a lid.  Pour in enough milk or half-and-half to cover, and refrigerate overnight.

The next day, preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Lay out the bacon in a large baking pan with sides.  When the bacon is cooked to your favorite degree of crispness, remove it to cool on paper towels.  Pour the bacon fat into a large skillet with high sides, and add an equal amount of canola oil.  Over medium high heat, start to sauté the onions.

Place a cup or so of flour onto a large plate, and season the flour with the salt and pepper.  Push the onions to one side of the skillet.  Remove each piece of liver from the milk and let the excess drip off, then immediately dredge in the seasoned flour.  Repeat until each piece is floured.  Working in batches, fry the liver alongside the onions, turning the liver when blood starts to rise on the surface.  You want the liver to be browned on both sides and cooked through, but not dried out.  Take your time and check the doneness as you go along.  Also continue to stir and turn the onions so that they brown evenly.

Serve the liver with the fried onions and the bacon. My all-time favorite side dish for liver is mashed potatoes, and because I love them with mashed potatoes, cooked sweet green peas.  Don't forget the bottle of ketchup. Yes, it has to be Heinz.

Five Minutes - Happy Birthday, Cory

Five minutes.  That is all I need this morning to transition back to working mode.  Five minutes to meditate, without my furry children  bouncing all over the bed, and me.  Five minutes in which I can breathe deep and drink some coffee.  Five minutes in which to absorb the fact that it is 39 degrees out there.  What the hell?

Most importantly, five minutes in which to wish my son Cory the happiest of birthdays.  Today he turns 28, and I could not be prouder than I am of my handsome, loving, accomplished son.  Happy birthday, Boy.  I love you.

No Good Day Goes Unpunished

One really good day, was Monday.  Felt good, despite an early lack of balance, accomplished much.  Since then, not so good.  As of today, Wednesday, only getting worse.  I tried eating a little protein around 11 - could not even consider taking my medication before that.  Now I just hope I don't have to throw up before the medication is absorbed.  The gabapentin is minimally helpful and the capsule is large and therefore difficult to swallow.  Both my arms are compromised today.  The dogs, especially Romeo, are overly protective. How do they know?

Rob comes in with bad news.  Another friend from our earliest days in Hunter's Creek, cancer, Stage 4.  Surgery and treatment, blah blah blah. F*ck you, Stage 4 cancer.  You are messing with too many people who I care about.

Standing for any period of time is painful.  If I had any doubts about that, the way that my back felt last night after folding a small load of laundry is proof enough for me.  I'd had to use the cane all day yesterday, but that was for walking, right?

Not being able to stand for too long also means not able to cook or bake. Fortunately I baked the Barely Bran Muffins before this latest flare.  And yesterday I garnered the energy to throw a pound and a half of whole, large button mushrooms into a crockpot along with some butter, wine, beef broth, Worcestershire and seasoning.  Then I went to work, which did not in any way improve the state of my health, but I had things I had to do in the office.  I suppose that holds true for today as well, as I do have court hearings tomorrow, but cane or no cane, I cannot navigate my way to work.  This is killing me (and probably not contributing anything positive to my supervisor's state of mind.  I am truly sorry, I wish I could stop this thing from interfering with my job.)  I also pre-seasoned the flap steak with garlic pepper, and left it in the refrigerator until such time as Robert has time to eat a decent dinner.  All easy stuff I could do without standing for long. Quick and dirty.

My doggies all need a good, warm, soapy bath, and I normally enjoy bathing them - they may feel differently, I realize - but I have had to put it off due to my #$%&!! limitations.  My doggies officially stink, damn it.

Back to the cooking conundrum - I have the ingredients for Spiced Pork and Apple Stew, which cooks in the crockpot, but does require some preparation, including browning the pork cubes with the onion and garlic. Since I decided to use sweet potatoes instead of white potatoes in this stew, I also have to precook those potatoes by half, as they will not cook as quickly as the white spuds and will therefore not be done in sync with the pork and other ingredients.  More standing, but just a little.  The rest of the prep? Not now, not yet.

That also goes for the asparagus wrapped in proscuitto. Yeah, I had big cooking dreams for this week.  Big working dreams, too.  

Note to the Universe:  On behalf of myself and all of my friends who are suffering with chronic pain and any other chronic disorder that sucks the joy out of living - 

Like a whirlpool - Barely Bran Muffins with Raisins

Dizzy!  I'm so dizzy, my head is spinning,
Like a whirlpool, it never ends

(Monday) Whoa!  What a morning. Trying to maintain a horizontal pose has been dicey here.  My balance is, how shall I put it, totally off, and not helped by the fact that not one floor in my house is level. The upstairs especially tilts precariously.  I don't know if this is because, over the past 90 years, the house has settled this way, or because the original builder was potted like a plant.  Either way, it is what it is, which is pretty funny most of the time, even when my balance is off and I'm a bit dizzy, as I am this morning.  I really love this house.

What I don't love this morning is having to go to court. Perhaps I need a break from the courtroom, with its inherent tension and inevitable drama.  That's not possible, of course; I am part of a team,  and we each have our own cases and our roles to play.  I am, in part, responsible for how this is done, because twnety years ago, when I took over as supervisor in the Brevard County office, I established that each attorney would handle their own cases, determined by alphabetic breakdown, from shelter to reunification or adoption.  Back in those days, we handled our own appeals as well, so our committment to each case was total and all-encompassing.  (Of course, when I transferred to Osceola County, I followed that paradigm as well.  I was the only attorney in the office, and had no choice.  Ha.  Talk about being hoisted on one's own petard.)

This was a change from the prevailing procedure, from when we had attorneys who only did the TPR trials, and in some counties in our district, specialization went further, with attorneys who only did shelters, arraignments, and judicial review hearings.

So here I am, wanting to head to the office to engage in a much-needed paper chase, but doomed to hobble into the courthouse for a judicial review.  Crap.  I meditated this morning, as I try to do most mornings, and it did not help.

It also did not help that my mother-in-law, who I love very much, is ill this morning and my son is taking her to her doctor or maybe possibly the hospital.  That also means my father-in-law, who I also love very much, is alone at home, as his mobility is severely limited.

I've been waiting over an hour for my 9:30 hearing.  Crap.  And whee! my head is still spinning, just enough to annoy me.  Hey, Head, I've got work to do!  Get your act together!

Okay, my morning went well.  And when I got back to the house to pick up my lunch, Cory reported that Grandma was okay, got treated, no hospital visit needed.  The witness lists are now done for all three trials, and passed along to Brenda, paralegal extraordinaire.  Seriously, the woman is amazing.

So I am here on time for my afternoon court.  It's astounding, time is fleeting. (Yes, madness takes it toll.) Crap. As the day goes on, that burst of energy that has carried me through the day so far is going to dissipate.  Hopefully I will be at home when that happens, and can land on my ass, if not my own couch, outside the sight of people whose opinion of my behavior really does matter.

Court finally ended at 6:20.  Let's do the Time Warp again, shall we?

Barely Bran Muffins with Raisins

1 box white cake mix

1 teaspoon baking powder

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 cup plain yogurt (2 - 5.3 oz. containers Chobani non-fat Greek yogurt)

1/2 cup canola oil

3 extra-large eggs
finely grated orange peel of one large orange
3 cups Post Raisin Bran
1/2 cup dark raisins

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.  Wipe the top of the muffin pan with a paper towel sprayed with Pam.  Place a paper liner into each muffin cup.  Place the cereal into a one gallon ziptop plastic bag.  Press gently on the bag to crush the cereal flakes into smaller pieces.  It's not necessary to pulverize the cereal.  Set aside.

In a large bowl, combine the dry cake mix, baking powder, and the flour.  In another large bowl, combine the yogurt, oil, eggs, and orange peel.  Stir in the crushed raisin bran, and let the mixture sit for 5 minutes until the cereal softens.  Stir in the dark raisins. Add the dry ingredients to the cereal-liquid-raisin mixture and stir together with a wooden spoon; don't worry if there are some lumps left.  Let the batter sit for five or six minutes, then stir a few more times.

Scoop into the lined muffin cups, dividing the batter evenly between the cups. Bake for 20 to 22 minutes in the preheated oven.  Let cool a few minutes, then remove the muffins to a metal rack to cool completely.


Makes 12 muffins.

I know, I've been promising these for a while ... finally managed to get them together tonight, despite the late quittin' time.  Easy commute home, you know.  Anyway, they turned out completely different from what I expected - nothing like a "real" bran muffin which is dark and deep and branny (is that even a word?) and somewhat oily. This is that bran muffin's sunny brother, light and bright from the kiss of orange zest and barely branny despite the 3 cups of flakes.  It's not oily at all, and the yogurt stops it from being too sweet, but still creates a beautiful crumb.

Never fear, I'm still working on one of those heavier bran muffins, made with All-Bran - but first, I feel a banana muffin in my future.  Your future.  Our future?  Stay tuned.

When A Good Man Goes To War

Yesterday, watching the news, seeing more of the Islamic terrorist's handiwork, hearing more about the President's request for war powers, the phrase "when a good man goes to war" popped into my aching head.  It's from a Doctor Who episode, but right now, it seems so apropos to what is happening in the very real world.

Demons run when a good man goes to war
Night will fall and drown in sun
When a good man goes to war
Friendship dies and true love lies
Night will fall and the dark will rise
When a good man goes to war
Demons run but count the cost
The battle is won but the child is lost 

• I am a mom. I am a pacifist.  I am a child of the sixties, when the war in Vietnam had taken over the airwaves and politics.  I never wanted to see that again.
• I am a natural-born citizen of the United States of America, and my country is under attack from Muslim terrorists on US soil, and has been since the 1993 bombing at the World Trade Center. 
• I am a Jew by birth. My father was Jewish, my mother was Jewish.  Their parents and grandparents were Jewish.  My husband and son are Jewish. The Muslim terrorists wish to kill me, my family, and all of my co-religionists.  
• I am Jew, and part of my family is Christian.  At least half of my close friends are Christian.  Almost all of my co-workers are Christian.  The Muslim terrorists wish to kill all Christians.  The Muslim terrorists wish to kill everyone who I love, every friend, everyone who means anything to me.
• I am a Jew.  I have the Right of Return to Israel, a democratic nation created as a haven state for all Jews.  From the moment of its creation in 1948, the Muslim nations surrounding it have tried to destroy it.
• I am a human being.  I cannot and should not ignore the holocaust being perpetrated by ISIS, the Islamic State, the modern-day Nazis, in the Middle East.  I am an angry, frightened, bloodthirsty bitch who would see all of the Islamic terrorists destroyed by US and European troops from on the ground and in the air.

I'm not an idiot; I know there will be a terrible price to pay.  But tell me, what choice do we have?  What choice have they left us?  So in this, I support the President.  Other things, not so much.  But I liked the selfies. Loved them, actually.  He's not a great president, in my opinion, but he is a good man.