There was no baseball last night, so I read Mr. Big Food the list of albums I’ve cleaned and are ready to play. He skipped past The Who, Kinky, The Stones, Jerry Jeff, wondered who owned James Taylor (Sweet Caroline, I was young once), and settled on Three Dog Night.
As I mentioned, Mr. Big Food is a Hip Crip— confined to the Den with only his work ethic, baseball, and the occasional rant about Joe Moorhead to entertain himself. Until… .
Back in a corner of the Bunkhouse there are two boxes of record albums that for all intents and purposes have not been looked at in 20 years (except to pull out a couple of Grateful Dead albums to frame). So, thanks to the magic of Amazon Prime (I know, I know), I ordered a record player, and thinking ahead, a vinyl record cleaning kit. In my copious spare time when I am not cooking I have been cataloging and cleaning vinyl– I’m probably about 1/5 of the way through
Mr. Big Food and I had different tastes in music when we were in high school.
Good Morning Readers— assuming there are any left after my extended absence. Allow me to bring you up to speed about what’s happening here in my little corner of the planet.
A little over a week ago Mr. Big Food tripped, fell, and— as we eventually learned a few days after the fall—fractured his Ischial Remus (a small part of his hip; this is why we have crappy old human anatomy & physiology books). The first 168 hours (24*7) were grueling. Misdiagnoses, pain meds that did not alleviate pain, crutches, walkers, no sleep, forms forms forms, medical administration people who do not know everything but think they do, radiologists on drugs, etc.
Speaking of radiologists on drugs— if you and your spouse or long-time partner do not have each other’s medical powers of attorney stop everything and just do it. It’s not just about pulling the plug. It’s about exercising your power when you need to. It’s about dealing with radiologists on drugs at student health who are worried about loosing their jobs because of HIPPA when you ask nicely for your husband’s x-ray. Yes indeed I do have paperwork authorizing me to act in his stead.
Mr. Big Food is fine. Sit, rest, let it heal.
For my part I put my never-met-a-challenge-I-couldn’t-figure-out hat on and together we commenced to establish a new normal wherein the breakfast table in the Den has been converted to a desk at which he can work, little bit of furniture has been rearranged, and so forth. So we’re living in the den/master bedroom which is pretty big and not too bad.
Thank God for baseball playoffs.
Also— “Marica Cooks John Crippled” highlights the menu on the fridge. So. Much. Cooking.
So there you go and here I am. TTYL. Need to get the yellow split peas soaking. It’s vegetarian Tuesday, after all.
The Food Truck was a big hit. Everyone except graduate students and post-docs chipped in $10. There was complete agreement that the food available at the Food Truck was far superior to the awful $22 boxed lunches provided by the hotel the day before. All things considered, Mr. Big Food and I were out 10 bucks but brought home a 12-pack of sparkling water and some paper plates, so we called it even.
The grocery store deli messed up my meat order– I think they gave me mine and someone else’s– and so we had three pounds more meat than I ordered. No big deal. Believe it or not, these folks know how to eat.
Only one fellow seemed not to know how things are done by Mr. Big Food and I who are in The United States of America and who know how to satisfy the VEG, VEGAN, and GFers. When he gave me his cash he emphasized that he was vegan– so maybe some guacamole? “No.” I do not run a restaurant. I run a food truck and when on Wednesday I map out what the offerings will be, and when on Friday I make adjustments based on what’s available at the store, I am not going to get guac for you, bless your heart. He just didn’t know. Still, that’s awfully bad manners if you ask me.
An interesting aside. There were 22 people on the program, and a few more in attendance. Not a single one asked me what was on the Food Truck menu. That’s probably due to the fact that more than half of these folks have eaten at one or more of our homes over the years.
This sounds good– better than pumpkin spiced anything.
ICED TEA SUPERB
Makes 4 to 5 glasses
3 Tbsp tea (choice blend of Indian and Ceylon)
Small bottle fresh mint leaves
3 teacups cold water, brought to a boil
¾ C sugar
Juice of 2 medium-size limes, strained
Scald teapot. (“Use a china or earthenware pot; metal spoils the flavor.”) Place tea and mint leaves in pot, add boiling water, and allow to steep 5 minutes, Strain hot tea into a pitcher with sugar. (“Use glass, enamel, or stainless steel pitcher, never a metal one such as aluminum or tin.”) When tea is slightly cooled, add lime juice and serve over crushed ice.
As you may have guessed, we did a spot of traveling, which cut into blogging time, over the weekend.
Yesterday, I had “no service” on my phone and concomitantly, no internet service. Gee. Wonder if the two could be related? Look forward to a rant on tech support in the near future just as soon as I tidy up the Bunkhouse– we’ve had a houseguest for the last five days. (She traveled with us.)
FYI. In this region, September was the hottest and driest on record. October begins no differently.
Mr. Big Food has arranged a very cool two-day workshop at a beach location. Unfortunately, the beach hotel charges an exorbitant amount of money for boxed lunches. So he did some thinking– which he’s really good at– came up with a plan, consulted with me and the other work shoppers, and we’re going to set up a food truck for lunch one of the days. I will run to the local grocery store, pick up stuff, and set it up at the back of our truck in the parking lot.
I started thinking this through just this morning and I think I have it nailed including accommodating the VEGs, VEGANs, and GFers. I should be able to bring it all in for about $200. And only needed one piece of paper.
Anyway, I found the file. It reminded me that I have a vast collection of . . . of stuff, and while it’s not unique – I got it from somewhere, after all – the connections between the bits of stuff is unique. That’s what the Decades Project is all about. A Unified Field Theory of 20th century pop culture.
I’m not the only one.
BTW lileks.com is the first site I look at in the morning. Rarely political. Serious cultural history. Funny. Took me a while to get into the swing of things— it has a culture of its own. But well worth it.
If it weren’t for you there would be no home, no family, or world fit to live in. You are a homemaker: chef (and many famous chefs couldn’t please your family as well as you do!), nurse (ever kiss a child’s skinned knee and he stopped crying?), court of appeals, peacemaker, home economist, purchasing agent, budget and record keeper, decorator, hostess.
I hope everyone is back up and running and seeing the latest here at Big Food, Big Garden, Big Life in rural mississippi.
Tailgate done & done. Smoked Salmon and Shrimp Remoulade were huge hits. There was a considerable amount of talk about how Great Aunt Bessie did her pickled eggs. Long time tailgater folks understand that Mr. Big Food and I are in the business of promoting crappy Old Southern culture by way of food.
Mr. Big Food got $0.40 on the dollar for our tickets– although the dude to whom he sold him counted out 4 $5 bills and Mr. Big Food– who can do rudimentary math in his head– said, “Whoa. You owe me twenty bucks.”
On the way back home, Mr. Big Food asked, “Do you really want to go out to eat tonight?” No.
We knew Kat and Tony had probably had a rough day moving their stuff out of storage and into the U-Haul truck. Burgers? No no no. Steak on the grill. And what to go with? Baked potatoes.
So I called Kat from the SuperLu and asked if this was okay. Okay. There were still left over Vegan Gluten Free Burritos from last night for the Tonster, in addition to the baked potato.
Mr. Big Food found two beautiful filet mignons, we picked up some baking potatoes, a few green onions, some sour cream, … .
I’m getting to it. Don’t rush me. There are … almost 20 years of history I have to cram into one blog post.
FYI. Tony’s latest thing is that he’s Vegan and Gluten Free.
After some recuperative hours, we commenced thinking about dinner. i was in charge of the baked potatoes and I did a quick survey of how folks like theirs.
I decided to rub the skins in butter, wrap the potatoes in foil, and put them in the electric roaster at 400. This did not go well and we would up nuking them in the MWO for 10 minutes, after which they were perfect.
But do you see the problem?
Baked potato skins rubbed in butter makes for a superior baked potato. But butter is not Vegan.
It was upon my acknowledgment / apology that Tony said, “We’ve know each other for a long time.”
Indeed we have. A little butter isn’t going to do any harm. There may come a day when Tony thinks a Unit or two will do no harm.
I miss The J-Man. I had to put that Gorilla Cart together all by my self. It would have gone smoother if I had known where the J-Man had stowed the cresent wrench, … .
It’s Friday night and the salads for the first Tailgate are chilling, the tea is made, the coolers are clean, and the corned beef and brisket are sliced– thanks to Kat– and so what else I’m I going to do?
If you are among the randomly chosen readers who are seeing new content here, bless your hearts. I do not want to disappoint.
If you are among the randomly chosen readers who are not seeing new content in a timely fashion, this will catch you up– someday.
The good news is that Kat and Tony are here on the Farm, and that they are very smart people who will not be un-smarted by caching glitches. So stay tuned.
Let’s get to new content, shall we?
We have a two-overlapping-pronged long weekend things going on. Mr. Big Food and I are cooking for the tailgate. Kat & Tony are here retrieving their stuff out of storage in S’vegas (turns out it costs less to store stuff in S’vegas than in FLA).
Kat & Tony have been traveling the world the last few years. And now, here they are on the Farm. During Tailgate Cooking Weekend.
A vignette that captures what life is like right now.
All of The Girls are Nature’s Buddies. They all like to go plunking around in the woods. Kat left all of her fancy photography equipment here. And so re-armed with her camera, some pruners, my phone in the event of a bearcat attack (she has no service here), and sprayed with Deep Woods Off, she went off to explore the watershed that feeds the lake. To The Summit. Keep Walking. Turn Right where the pile of old carpet is. Keep the pines to the right and left, follow the deciduous trees.
She returned some time later with this little bouquet, a lovely piece of chard wood, some photos of tiny frogs, and a piece of mineral / rock. It was about a cubic inch– maybe less. Irregularly shaped.
What is this rock?
Neither my various rock identifying books, nor the internet, were of much help. We didn’t have enough information about the rock’s properties. I swear to God, Kat spent time working on this. “Mom. Where’s the strongest magnet you have?”
I suggested we might discover the … dangit… what’s the word that is the same thing… MASS. I suggested we might discover the mass of the stone, given its volume. That sent us on a real journey down measurement lane. I am pleased to announce that, while we saw no point in actually doing it, we figured out that we could use the 10ml micro-beakers and the pipettes in the storeroom to determine the amount of water that the stone displaced, thereby determining its volume. You remember. At sea level, 1 cubic cm of water has a volume of 1 ml and a mass of 1 gram. Surely we could work that to our advantage.
It was about here that we went to Dollar General to pick up a few things.
Not to slight Tony,
We’ve known him for a considerable time.
In other news, SIL Joran The J-Man is babysitting Grandson ‘Phen. ‘Phen could not be in better hands.
J– I did share that pic around the picnic table. It’s awesome.