July 27, 2012

No. I'll Never Eat That Again! The Salmon Burger Wars.

I owned many of the books written by Dr. Mamet Oz before I knew who he was or that he was making a name for himself on the Oprah Winfrie Show. Since then, I've watched the Dr. Oz Show, I’ve been to his web page, and I've even, occasionally, taken his advice.

That’s why when a half-dozen members of his studio audience sampled and critiqued six quick, week-night, nutritious, and delicious entrées (according to Oz), I paid attention. I made a list of the choices, although I already knew of several of them. 

Two of the meals could not be found in my local freezer section. I had previously eaten the third, Amy’s Burritos, many times, so I bought just one, even though they are not as tasty as they sound. I passed up a fourth choice that looked and sounded dreadful.

My interest, of course, was in the Sea Pak Salmon Burgers. I had seen them in  frozen foods many times. “680mg Omega 3’s per 110 calorie serving,” the packaging screams. Those stats might be a figment of the imagination - like the grill marks on the box top picture. I don’t know.  My interest was tweaked by the fact that, to a person, every audience member who tasted all six healthy dinners chose the salmon as the favorite healthy freezer meal. I bought it, too, and without further ado.

When I got home with my groceries, I snatched out the box and read the ingredients: salmon, water, autolyzed yeast extract, canola oil, garlic powder, garlic, grill flavor from sunflower oil, lemon juice concentrate, natural food coloring of beet juice and citric acid, natural smoke flavoring, onion powder, paprika, rosemary, salt, soybean oil, tapioca, dextrin, and white pepper.

Finally, the list announces, “contains: salmon.” The label does not specify the variety of the salmon.

Even so, I opened the box. Frozen slime. I continued to read. I was concerned to see that Sea Pack worked out of St. Simon’s Island (no salmon there) which logistically can be nothing like a Gorton quick-freeze plant. 

Finally, I saw it. Yes, it was in bold albeit small print. “This salmon is wild caught. Product of China.”

The fish, according to directions, could be grilled (hence, I supposed, the lovely cover shot) or baked (which I did in the toaster oven) or pan seared ( which I also did, trying to get a crispy crust). All of that, and the product was still slimy from grinding the salmon and reconstructing it into patties. The smell, during cooking, was horrendous. The flavor was artificial lemony cardboard. No texture. 

Shame on you, Dr. Oz. This tastes terrible. I need to have my head examined and so do you. If you, reader, try to make this meal, after all I’ve written, be sure to toast your roll on medium to impart some crispness into this dish. Even so, this salmon is nothing close to tasty. I don't even think that a pickle would help!

Better yet, buy one 14 ¾ oz can of  Royal Red, Wild Alaska Sockeye Red Salmon. Open the can and drain the juices into a small bowl in case you need moisture later on. Crush everything else up with a fork. I use skin and bones but you don’t have to. Make it your own! Take them out, if they bother you.



Add one egg, onion and green peppers, celery - if you like - chopped any size you think best. Add crushed Saltines – enough to dry out the mixture. If you go too far, use some of the salmon liquid until the consistency is good for shaping a burger. Salt, pepper, and Worcestershire sauce should be enough seasoning. Form the patties whatever size you want. Sometimes I make many small ones; sometimes I form them into fewer, larger pieces. Handle them gingerly. This is not beef. 

Heat a few tablespoons of olive oil in a large frying pan or work in several smaller batches. You will need a nice medium hot temperature because the salmon will soak up cooler oil. The first side will brown up nice and fast. Then turn the burgers with a spatula and fork, so as not to break them up, and turn the heat down a little. Turn the patties as many times as you need to get a nice crisp outer surface. Drain on paper towels.

Better still, why not take advantage of the seasonal wild salmon when it's offered in the fish markets and save the canned product until later! Buy twice as much salmon as you need and make the burgers, according to the directions above, from the leftovers. Live it up; wild salmon is seasonal; eat it several times in a row when it's available.  

Serve these delicious salmon burgers on toasted buns with mustard and additional Worcestershire sauce, lettuce and tomato, sautéed onions, anything you like. I sometimes eat them on a bed of rice, with a side of baked beans!



We need to consume salmon, tuna, various cold water white fish, sardines, and other freshly harvested seafood several times a week as part of a healthy diet! Whatever you do, please don’t add that Sea Pak of Chinese salmon to your meal plan!  I’ll never eat that again. No way.  














July 26, 2012

Aging Over Lunch. No, Really.


I was expecting UPS. The little camera is on the way. Instead, there stood a friend. Why, now? And at lunchtime!

“Hi, there.”  She was among a group of ladies my age that I met when I came to live in Tallahassee. She was one of the two who did not mesh with me. I should have introduced them to each other, in hindsight. Me, I don’t waste my time sitting in classes. I can paint in oils or watercolor, but I don’t. I can write and I do. I stopped going to Tai Chi classes on principal. I’m not an attendee. I particularly don’t want writing lessons.

“You look good.” I thanked her. I looked at her. So. I am holding up well, comparatively, at seventy-one. I smiled.

I’ve wondered, at times, if I have gone to pot. Literally. I’ve let the hair go grey and now I’m growing it out from short-short. It’s not out of laziness, I’ve told myself, but honesty. Now allergic to almost every brand of makeup, I only wear a little 15 SPF tinted moisturizer.  

Manicures and pedicures are out, too. Every pedicurist I use mangles my left big toenail and gives me a lovely but painful three weeks of life. Cleaning a squirrel cage, gardening, and a cat box precludes manicures.  Not only does the polish chip in one day, but think of the germs.

I took another look at her. Long flowing skirt from the eighties, worn sandals, tee, modern blonde short bob, dewy makeup, painted lips (fingers and toes), lots of blush and powder…I guess her idea of the aging artist.


I’ve all but emptied my closet, too. Board meeting suits went to a charity for battered women - to wear on job interviews. Work uniforms (khaki pants and Land’s End Sweaters) were given to Goodwill. Polyester (ugh) store-monogrammed jackets, trashed.  

I have enough. I have no skirts from former decades. Nothing is old. Young people should shop the vintage market, not old women, unless the clothes are new and styled to simply look like something from the 40’s, 50’s, or 60’s.

My shoes are new and comfortable. I have a couple of pair of very expensive but low heels for life’s emergencies. Otherwise, I still buy new Jack Rogers sandals every spring – a throwback from living on the beach. They never go out of style unless they get shabby and rundown. I have numerous pairs of converse. They are all the rage in Europe at the moment. Then there are ballet flats, plain and dressy, and always good quality. I baby the toe. The feet get the best. I have boots for winter! Nice.

Bags are still my weakness. I have fewer of them, now. I try to choose for the technological hardware that must be carried. I try to keep my back and shoulder in mind. I try to wear them out before I buy more. In all honesty, I’m doing so much better. I’m going to use last year’s fall and winter purses again next season. They are turning into It bags!

“Come in.”  I smiled. Hmm. What for lunch? I reached for yogurt, fresh fruit, tupelo honey, a medley of salad greens. Clouds were forming so I opted for the patio. A breeze was shooing the flies and mosquitoes away. I opened a nice crisp white wine and poured.  I keep two bottles chilling.

I am a differently-shaped person, suddenly, although I eat right and get enough exercise. I’m trying to get over worrying about it. Just another phase. Living well!  The woman in front of me is tiny, skinny, drawn, with wrinkles galore. I can’t wish that on myself.

We talked a good while and, honestly, it was pleasant to have the company, in spite of the technology, current event, and homemaking lapses in our conversation. I just stuck to the things she could talk about – aches and pains, the foibles of grown children, the pitfalls of aging.


I wasn't really feeling it. A man once told me that getting old would be the bravest thing I would ever do. I know it’s true – sooner or later illness and death come to each of us. For now, I’m pretty laid back about the whole aging process, pretty graceful, pretty well on schedule!




July 16, 2012

Caroline's Book Reviews

RSpook: Science Tackles the AfterlifeSpook: Science Tackles the Afterlife by Mary Roach
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Putting this paperback on the shelf with several others that I sometimes use for reference material. Meaty but fun!

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Caroline's Book Reviews

Rag and Bone: A Journey Among the World's Holy DeadRag and Bone: A Journey Among the World's Holy Dead by Peter Manseau
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

A book author (anyone with time and money to travel could have researched and written this book) should not berate a famous French medical doctor/anthropologist for his difficulties with English. Do you not speak French? And then to quote him, verbatim, in his search for words with which to communicate his thoughts to you? How irritating!

A Gentle Ribbing (name of said chapter), indeed. You, yourself, came off jealous, peevish, and more than a little childish and churlish when speaking of Dr Charlier's work. No. You will never be that caliper of scientist.

I know that it was only one chapter out of eight, but it was the one that sold me the book. Hardback. Aah. What about the other seven? Yes, there was attitude visible in those chapters, also, disguised as humor.

I gave this book three stars for research. I should have taken one back on principle - as when you give a C grade and go back and add a -. Yes, C-!

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Caroline's Book Reviews

A Farewell to Arms: The Hemingway Library EditionA Farewell to Arms: The Hemingway Library Edition by Ernest Hemingway
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This Hemingway Library Edition hardcover is a good choice for your library, if you still maintain one. There is something to be said for longevity both of any selected work of literature and of any reader.

Having studied Hemingway relentlessly in the past, this reading was pure joy, a mini-vacation from the writers of today. It was fun to get into Papa's head a little via his early drafts and the alternative endings. Time well spent.





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July 15, 2012

The Music Sometimes Speaks to Me

Our church choir is small and consists of good people who love to sing for the glory of God. The Director is smart, qualified, and knows her music. The "Chancel" choir leads the singing of hymns every other Sunday morning. They sing no specially prepared anthems and the director is a pianist without much of a feel for volume or for finesse. Yes, she tends to bang.

We have a small historic pipe organ that I suspect could be "brought to life" by someone who believed that there was magic in playing such an instrument. It is a perfect size for the square footage of the sanctuary. All in all, what we are lacking is passion. The magic is there, asleep inside the organ.

Every other week, the congregation is blessed with music from the folk choir. This group does have passion and as the name, folk, implies, enjoys a certain amount of intimacy with the congregation. Sometimes, they remind me of a group of friends doing a little jamming, but mostly the music is beautiful. These are the same voices that we hear during the monthly Taize prayer services. I love that chanting form of worship and I believe our services would be better for incorporating that music every Sunday.

Sometimes, however, God interferes. The music becomes meaningful; yes, holy. It happened this morning during the Eucharist - my first Sunday back to church since Doc (Greg Levenduski) died. I had lit a candle for the two friends, my Wayne and Patty's Greg. All morning, I directed my private prayers to their peace. I prayed for Patty, that her life might be blessed as mine has been, with meaning and joy beyond expectation, as we journey the world alone in our two shoes apiece...

And suddenly, a quartet of men stood. The four voices sang tentatively instead of with overly practiced power... Wayne's favorite hymn. The group sounded to me as if they had become the ancient pipes themselves, brought to life here at The Church of the Holy Comforter.


T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Even a year ago I would have burst into those quiet tears that run down the face independently of what is happening in the head. The heart rules. I'm stronger now. The words simply gave me joy and reminded me of the two friends, now together in a place that has no cancer, chemo, or radiation treatments.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see. 



God bless you, Wayne and Greg.








July 08, 2012

No Church Again; Taking Care of Kitty



I feel as if I haven't been to church in weeks. It's probably true. First I was sick;
now, Belle. She went to the vet two weeks ago and received an inconclusive diagnosis coupled with a long-term antibiotic. She's seemed so very much better; playing, eating, pooping, peeing, sitting with Squirrel, begging for treats, exploring the patio.

Now, this morning, she's hiding under a bed. That's what she does when she knows that she is headed for the vet. What she doesn't realize is that today is Sunday and Dr. T is, herself, probably in church.

I've been spreading a clean white sheet over my bed every night, checking for the signs of that smudge she leaves behind - the only visible symptom. Belle doesn't sleep with me; yet, about 5 0'clock in the mornings, when she begins to believe the sun is on the horizon, thud. Up she jumps! And this morning, there they were. The tell-tale signs that she is not 100% cured of who-knows-what-this-is.

I've spent a lot of time on the internet, in the last few hours, in between washing bedding in Clorox, scouring the bathrooms, and sanitizing the floors. We need to stay as clean as possible!

I read a lot of hooey on line...you know, internet Ragdoll Cat owner groups, question-the-vet-online sites, and other useless information. I did perk up as I began to find mention of all the psychological trauma symptoms that Belle exhibits. That, as you know, is another story; the one about why Belle lives with me in the first place.

We'll go back to the hospital tomorrow. As much as she dislikes it and as much as I hate to leave her there, she has begun to almost like her vet and the clinic staff! We need to find out exactly what is going on with Belle. It took me two trips to urgent care before I solved my problem, didn't it?

Meanwhile, we'll lay low today, concentrate on habitat hygiene, and worry as little as possible. Belle won't come out from what she believes is her secret hiding place until she's sure that I've forgotten all about going to the garage, backing out the car, finding the pet carrier, and calling "Here, kitty, kitty," while shaking a bag of treats to lure her in!

Smile and Say Cheese

 My daughter (now 61) used to line everyone up and take our picture in order to prove what a “good time” we all had – much to the chagrin of...