Cookbooks!

Gordon Ramsay's Fast Food by Gordon Ramsay
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Judge a cookbook by the number of the author's recipes that find their way into your personal repertoire. I've adapted several of these for my own use, and even better, the book is full of usable tips to make cooking fast but healthy! Hence, four stars! Great pictures of Chef Ramsay if you're into that! I'm going to hang one in the car to remind me that "fast food is not grabbing a bite as you drive along, and anyway, Chef is watching you!"

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Father's Day Thoughts From the Secluded Garden

Happy Father's Day from my secluded garden. I love the privacy, the quiet and the solitude.

This morning, instead of church, I took my coffee and biscuit outside in the cool breeze and thought of the missing Daddies - the ones called, now, to heaven. It wasn't a sad meditation - I don't really believe in death. The shock of losing loved ones is catastrophic, yes, but the tragedy is always about the people left behind. What is to become of them? How will we cope?

In the silence of this beautiful morning, I thought of Wayne (one of the most spirited, glad to be, fathers in the world) and of Doc, Greg Levenduski, in my book first runner up in the daddy department! They were good friends in life. In heaven, they looked down into my garden just now and smiled at me.

I picked a rose for them and put it in a little vase beside my newspaper.

The morning was quiet - no plans - those other two fabulous daddies gone camping with a couple of  lucky twins! I thought about Art and Corey and all the love and care they give us. I remembered the late-night text message. "Miss You." How lucky am I that I could sit in this spot and smile at the thought of all the boating, fishing, swimming, and feasting that must be going on in the woods this weekend?

Meanwhile, the sun was shining in the privacy that I've tried so hard to nurture here in the garden. The blue jays came out of the trees and sat on the fence but were silent for the most part, letting the cardinal couples from the rose bushes out front (who perched themselves on the chain that holds the stag-horn) carry the melody.
The wrens sat close to me, on the table, and chirped some sort of chorus. I could see the crow in his perch by the lake on top of the tallest pine and, mercifully, he stayed in his place for once. All-in-all it was quite a hymn they were singing.

I recited my prayer/mantra with its revised beginning - the only thing I carried away from The Shepherd Psalm by William Evans.
"The LORD is my Shepherd, I shall not go missing." Even alone in my garden, I am not alone in my garden.

I sipped my coffee. I shared my biscuit with Squirrel and the sausage with Belle. I flipped the newspaper, scanning. I listened to my morning prayers. Here are several of them:

Now I've come in to start the computer up and tell you all of this. Morning has flown. Have a wonderful afternoon. Post your adventures on facebook! Have great times with your children and grandchildren! That's what I love about each one of you - your fantastic ability to have fun and to carry on the great legacy left behind by the ones who have gone from us....

Inspiration. Beer Bikes, Food Trucks, and Cooking Clubs

I love inspiration, don't you? It usually hits me like a ton of bricks. As soon as it lands (Oh, yes, now I see it!) everything else falls in line.Today's example is the idea of the beer bike and how a simple concept saved a fictional character in a cooking club mystery.

Every once and a while, something or other captures the imagination. In recent years, for me, it has been chess boxing. Now, beer bikes. So I start to think. Maybe a beer bike driver as a mystery club bit part. All morning this rested on the edge of my mind. Until it hit me. No. Not a bit part. The idea is too compelling for anything other than the cameo placement. Under the lights, so to speak.

For, you see, the protagonist in each cooking club mystery is always a different character. Sometimes he or she is killed or otherwise leaves the group (lose 'em) but other times the featured person becomes a permanent (use 'em) part of the backdrop, which is the cooking club itself.

After all, I have been developing a new, Chinese, cooking club member for almost a year. Killed him off twice. Changed his name three times. Couldn't figure out how to write the dialog when he spoke no English and I, no Chinese.

The only thing that I knew for sure was that, young and gregarious, he was originally created to bring comic relief to an otherwise psychologically edgy thriller and that he mistakenly joined the club thinking that he could learn to cook there. On the other hand, the members voted him in because they thought that he was a master chef. I also knew I loved him - or the idea of him, anyway. Lived with him all these months. Can see him in my sleep.

Now, suddenly and out of the blue, I have it, except for his surname which I will change soon - one last time.  His given name will be Hop which means agreeable. Hop is nearly thirty and has a French grandmother.

voilà ! Now we can deal with him in simple, universal French terms when our limited Chinese fails - both mine and the other members of the club. Did you know that I myself am the charter member of the cooking club? Who better to write about than one's self? But not in the first person.

As you can see, we are suddenly getting somewhere. Han and others of his family left China and lived with his Grandmother in France. Recently, he drove a beer bike in Amsterdam. Do you get how easy it is? How the beer bike simply belongs in the story now?

I am thrilled. Even as I tap-tap-tap these words, the mind is solving all the developmental problems for this character, dear Hop, while also asking me, in a sheepish half thought - half whisper, if we can work the food truck chef into the story... just a bit part leading to main character-hood in upcoming projects.

There are no beer bikes in Tallahassee so Han tries to find work on the food truck, which he believes to be compatible. Han cannot cook. He can only Skype France and beg recipes from mémé.

Now we have a Chinese man we can work with, who can join the club, lighten the heaviness of the plot, help end the terror, and become a permanent character (or not). We can bring in the food truck and the chef as well. The new possibilities are endless and yet I can now visualize the end of it! Thanks to a quick inspiration that I could have easily ignored.

I Manage....

This post won't make it to facebook, that's for sure. I guess the pain, the lack of response from the Doctors office, and the rain have made me grumpy. I swear I am usually calm, happy, optimistic, and content.

But...

I've spent the morning waiting for the phone to ring, putting off taking the little pills that turn the urine brown, stain everything, and don't do much good either, and cleaning up messes.

First, I hung the magnetic mini blinds on the French Doors. If you realized that they were fragile and cheap wouldn't you be gentle with them? The housekeeper can't get the hang of it and tries to raise them to wash the windows. The boys can't turn the door knob without bending them. And, in truth, one whole panel collapsed with me sitting on the sofa watching television. That was the cheap set! I should get the doors with the blinds enclosed in glass, but why? I love the way the light filters through these minis. I like the idea of these metal doors. I, myself, am content.

Next, I went into the yard and moved the patio furniture off of the grass. Yes, the patio is looking wonderful again - repaired, washed, and waiting for sealing that has been nearly three years coming. BUT it rained several inches yesterday and storms are in the forecast big time for the coming week. When you may not get to finish the work for a while, why leave the furniture out on the middle of the yard?  I've spent a fortune on the grass alone. Not to mention everything else I've done to try to have a " beautiful, secluded garden." I really don't want a setback.

Next, I tackled the garage. Little bikes pulled up behind the car were just begging to be backed over. Good towels were, somehow, thrown down in the garage floor. A basket full of cleaning tools (that I'm in the process of using)  had been spilled behind the storage boxes and left there. Bubble Stuff was sitting out in the middle of the floor with the lid not tightened. Good grief. You would think that the boys had been alone without supervision, but you would be wrong. So much for that.

On the bright side, the Wellness Mats for the kitchen arrived. One for in front of the sink and one to keep falling objects from the fridge from breaking or cracking the tile. Not just little hands this time. Old hands drop everything! The kitchen, breakfast room, and foyer were already tiled when I moved in. I did the laundry room and the bathrooms with much better quality material. Now, I asked myself. With the luck I'm having, will kitty sharpen her claws on the new microfiber? Needless to say, she has been relegated to the porch. Not today, she won't. She needs the fresh air anyway!

I met the Lake Chairman for the Homeowners when I was collecting my mail. Been there, done that; I don't envy him the job and he has more than one lake to oversee. Workers are gathering the trimmings from around the cul-de-sac today and dropping them in the middle of the lake and around the edges for the fish to enjoy. I liked this man, who rode up in a small pontoon boat with a trolling motor, very much. He also manages the annual Kids' Fishin' Tournament. I lobbied a little for the deer that live in the copse but, in truth, I am on the side of fire and personal safety. The area in question is minute comparative to the amount of green space we have just in the immediate area.

It's way past lunch time. I have a crisp lettuce wedge with Blue Cheese dressing, boiled shrimp with cocktail sauce, and tuna salad left over from yesterday's family dinner when we went into Summer mode and spread the picnic out casually on the coffee table. We'll probably continue to do it that way until school starts and the days get short again. I am the only person who ever has dinner on the patio. I don't see the point in worrying myself over the heat, the humidity, or a few insects.

I manage.

Caroline's Book Reviews

How to Read a Painting: Lessons from the Old Masters by Patrick De Rynck
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

A good reference book into the thinking of the times...not much of an art appreciation textbook. In art, as in music and literature, the greatest works are the ones that have pulled the most heartstrings.

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