July 28, 2016

Picky Over Belle





A Facebook quiz I took recently said my biggest fault was I'm too picky. I guess my mild, undiagnosed case of OCD comes clear even in my posts. (Grin)


You tell me! I took Belle to her spa-day at 8AM. We were greeted with smiles all around. I left her for a callback, but had an appointment nearby. By the time I left home, she was still there. I began to worry.


The call came shortly thereafter, but I was in the pedi chair and didn't listen to the message. It was 1:05. SO, already worried as to the delay, I headed to pick her up straightaway.


The message had said that they were unable to give her service and to come and get her. I'm glad I never heard it until after I arrived at Bannerman Pet Care. It isn't good to drive angry. At the time of the telephone call, Belle had BEEN THERE FOR FIVE HOURS.


I have a message in place for Dr. T to call me. Don't give me an appointment knowing that no Vet will be in the house. You know that Belle sometimes gets anesthesia when being handled by the technicians rather than Dr. T herself. Don't tell me two emergencies came up after the dear old cat had been SITTING THERE FOR FIVE HOURS.


Lack of communication, lack of organization, lack of caring. Belle has had a late lunch and is napping. The technicians didn't even bother to clip her toenails. I'll give her a hygiene clip and her summer hair trimming myself. At least, I'll try. After I'm done being overly picky! And over-protective of Belle!


(Portrait, entitled Belle in Oils, by Tallahassee artist Debby Westerman.)

July 10, 2016

The Sunday Chicken

One piece is missing. It's on the burner.


My Emile Henry ceramic Flame cookware lives on a rather tall (plant stand) and skinny set of shelves, one piece per shelf. I can cook with it in the oven or on the burner surface. It's my most valued cooking tool of all times.

To start, buy a small Springer brand chicken, the least large available. If you need to cook more, in order to have plenty, two are way tastier than one large bird.

You will also benefit from a serving of the new Campbell's broth for the Keurig. I like it for cooking far better than any broth I've tried other than my own homemade stock. You won't need as much salt, however, and your own favorite tried-and-true liquids will work as well.

I cleaned my 3.3 pound yellow free range chicken, reminiscent of Aunt Inez's yard birds. I placed the chicken in the middle of the roaster and spaced the livers (I got more than my share in this package), gizzard, and neck around it.

I threw in a roughly chopped Vidalia onion as well as a bulb of local garlic, all of the small cloves yet to be peeled. Also, I sprinkled ample chopped dried basil, oregano, and rosemary from my garden-wall herb garden. A few pinches of dried and shredded Thai pepper. Yes! You remember that Tom and Jack harvest herbs and peppers all summer long! That is about as local as one can get! I ground fresh pepper and sea salt slivers gingerly over everything.

Note: Money saver. We used the empty store brand bottles, below, to store our crop - simply printed Home Grown on the fronts with magic marker.

With the poultry and root veggies (Sigh. I didn't have a carrot!) in their places, I poured some of the broth, to which I had added a teaspoon or so of butter, over all.  Actually, I used more than I needed and proceeded to boil it down a little before I put the lid on the dish. There's a way to do everything.

The burner is on the lowest setting. The aroma is beginning to fill the house. Chicken cooked in Flame cookware is so much tastier than when using a crock pot; a flavorful and tender dish.

I know crockpots produce dishes that are relished by many families and are more nutritional than some other options; however, it's my firm belief that diners, in general, have forgotten (what with the advent of fast food, pre-flavored poultry parts ready for the oven, that constant taste of the grilling and charring of chicken breasts, and delicatessen overcooking) how a roasted chicken is supposed to taste.

Had this been pork or beef, even lamb, I would have seasoned amply and stashed the whole dish overnight in the refrigerator to let the flavors meld before cooking. I would have needed more time, this morning, in order to return the food to room temperature, but the taste would have been outstanding.

I don't mess with poultry. Out of the package and into the pot is my best advice for the iffy, germ-morphing kitchen of today.

Later: my bird is in a good place, having self-braised on stovetop for over an hour, to go into the oven for a quick browning. Oven is on 400. When the skin is crisp, I'll check for the doneness of the dish. It usually depends on the size of the bird, the time on the burner, the amount of the broth, and other factors. Yes. I am saying that one can never tell. I can always finish the dish off stove top, but I've never had to do it.

Common sense calls for me to brown the chicken first and then simmer slowly with the lid on. But no. I want the skin to get crispy and stay crispy. I don't usually cook according to Hoyle.



1 PM:  My Sunday Chicken is resting now. My plan was to chop it up as soon as it was cool.  I wanted to make a summer Thai dish in which pre-roasted breast meat may be used,yam top gait tian,a coconut chicken salad. I also wanted chicken sandwiches with pickles. I don't think so. Maybe later in the week according to the amount left over. Sunday Chicken is what's for supper!

P.S. I am trying hard not to drip the juices from these amazing chicken livers that I am munching into my electronics. Otherwise, life is grand!

  


Red and Yellow, Black and White




Red and yellow, black and white, all are precious in His sight. 
Boxing is probably no longer considered a politically or socially correct sport for a grey-haired lady of a certain age to admit that she once enjoyed. Too much like the gladiators fighting to the death while the Empress, in her royal box, cheered them on. A violent world, enjoyed, in modern times, by the cigar smoking gamblers and the down and out, the rich and the famous. 
My father-in-law had been a boxer in the Army and for some time after WW ll. We (our family) watched the matches on television, attended the olympic tryouts the year they were held in Jacksonville, and supported the local boxing profession whose cause was getting and keeping wayward teens off the streets. 
After several years of watching, something amazing happened. I no longer saw black or white or Mexican or Cuban or English speakers or Spanish speakers. I only saw boxers. Red or yellow, black or white, after ten rounds, I couldn't tell you anything about them except to recite their fight statistics.
And just like that, would that we could become colorblind and deaf to language barriers and care only for the scorecard, written in BIG BOLD LETTERS, "We have a tie decision. All are equally precious."

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...