Sunday, July 1, 2007
Oh, dear! Today, I just realized, is Rabbit, Rabbit day...
...and I've already spoilt it. I've said many, many things to my cats, including, "Well, hi, is it time to get up?" to Mr. Man, who rubbed his face against mine, this morning, unusual for him. He usually just sits within inches of my face in the meatloaf position and stares at me until this awakens me. So I blew it. I'll have to remember to cue Mom to say it before she says anything else this morning. I've spoken to her, once, but she didn't respond with speech, only with a nod.
I'm itching to get started on the eggs. I've always loved painting, I studied it for a short while, once, was never very good at it but always inventive. I know enough about my abilities to stay away from representational art. But, I have a good eye. So does Mom. I'm also going to, later, when we're both comfortable working within one another's vicinity, introduce application of beads, etc. The idea daunted Mom over Easter, but what I'm hoping will happen is that if she doesn't feel facile enough to work with applying beads and things (I was also thinking lace, satin ribbon, buttons, etc., and, no, we wouldn't be using super glue), she'll be interested in watching without becoming intimidated. She is, by the way, totally excited about the possibility of creating what she, yesterday, referred to as "a cottage industry," to which I replied, "...this home is cozy and inviting enough to be considered a cottage, I think..."
I'm also going to do some baking today, Blueberry Lime muffins, at least. I'm going to thin the half and half with lime juice, as well as adding lime zest, this time. This is my reminder. I was surprised to discover just how well limes enhance blueberries. Maybe another peach pie...oh, which reminds me, I need to go to the grocery to get a lemon and a paper bag. This is my reminder. I've already begun cooling down the house. It will be fairly hard for Mom to hear, today, what with all the fans blowing and sucking, distorting sound as well as producing it, but it'll be worth it. Chances are we'll be spending most of the day in close quarters, anyway. She likes to be present when I'm cooking. She always says, "You like to cook, don't you?" Which always leads into a discussion of how she doesn't like to cook, "has never seen the sense in it". Usually this conversation winds down with her saying, "Well, I guess you got it from Mother. It certainly wasn't from me."
I agree with her, fundamentally, that it is an awful lot of work on something that's going to disappear in 20 minutes and leave a mess behind. I'm often not thrilled with the separate types of preparation necessary and often wish I could just program an idea into a duplicator, a la Star Trek, and, voila, I'm a chef. But, I'm attracted to the chemistry aspect of cooking as it applies to taste.
My mother and I are so unlike one another when it comes to food. I don't think it was until she and I began this last-phase companionship of ours that she even paid much attention to taste or presentation. She loved the social aspect of family meals, which were promoted with gusto in our house. But the cooking...let's just say she was thrilled to be blessed with four girls who all inherited an interest in food preparation. She continued to prepare a fair number of weekday and Sunday dinners, but never minded passing the glory around. Her pan fried chicken is the most succulent I've ever eaten. Her homespun Chicken Mexicali is wonderful; sort of like Swiss Steak with chicken. Her Swiss Steak was great, too. Her stew left a lot to be desired, unless she accidentally burned it. Her Mac & Cheese is the basis for mine, without the ketchup, although I used to eat it and like it with ketchup. I use chopped sun-dried tomatoes, now, instead. She was a good bread maker at one time. We used to have home made bread fairly often on Guam. I'm not sure she liked doing it, but she loved, loved, loved slicing off big hunks of it, slathering it with butter and eating it. That's why I continue to make breadmaker bread in the winter. I've modified her tastes, though. When a loaf of Basil Bread emerges, she enjoys it with very lightly salted, garlic infused with the slices of sauteed garlic still in it) warm-from-the-skillet olive oil. That was my idea. I remember telling Mom, when I introduced it, which we both recall because I made her wait for a piece of bread until I concocted the spread on the spot, that I just had "this idea" that these things would taste good on the freshly baked, warm bread.
After taking the first bite she said, "You sure have some good ideas, girl."
Since, we've also used my home mixed garlic butter on the bread. That's delicious, too.
I think, too, since forgetting that she smokes, her sense of taste has revived, some. It is her habit, now, to informally grade meals, especially dinner, but often breakfast and lunch, especially if I've fiddled with those menus, which are often the same for stretches of time.
As to her enjoying watching me cook, I think part of the pleasure is that it reminds her of when us girls used to cook at home, especially big family dinners in which everyone, including Mom (she usually prepared and cooked the main entrée) participated.
Which reminds me...soon after I mentioned, some months ago, maybe around Christmas, that I continue to let her chop things, I stopped doing that. She almost sliced off her finger while hacking through celery. She laughed. That wouldn't be the first time. When she was a girl she almost severed one of her middle fingers. I forget how; I'll have to ask her. This is my reminder. Anyway, she is still conscious of that finger. When I go to test her blood glucose, if we're "on" that finger, she always reminds me of the scar, as if this is a problem when it comes to getting an accurate glucose reading; sort of a reversal of the thought process that leads to women stripping before they get on a weight scale. As I'm recalling, when that finger 'comes up', she also says, "Did I ever tell you about the time...", and she has, so I interrupt her and say, "Yes," but, apparently, I haven't heard about it often enough to remember it. I need to ask her about that today. This is my second reminder.
Later.
I'm itching to get started on the eggs. I've always loved painting, I studied it for a short while, once, was never very good at it but always inventive. I know enough about my abilities to stay away from representational art. But, I have a good eye. So does Mom. I'm also going to, later, when we're both comfortable working within one another's vicinity, introduce application of beads, etc. The idea daunted Mom over Easter, but what I'm hoping will happen is that if she doesn't feel facile enough to work with applying beads and things (I was also thinking lace, satin ribbon, buttons, etc., and, no, we wouldn't be using super glue), she'll be interested in watching without becoming intimidated. She is, by the way, totally excited about the possibility of creating what she, yesterday, referred to as "a cottage industry," to which I replied, "...this home is cozy and inviting enough to be considered a cottage, I think..."
I'm also going to do some baking today, Blueberry Lime muffins, at least. I'm going to thin the half and half with lime juice, as well as adding lime zest, this time. This is my reminder. I was surprised to discover just how well limes enhance blueberries. Maybe another peach pie...oh, which reminds me, I need to go to the grocery to get a lemon and a paper bag. This is my reminder. I've already begun cooling down the house. It will be fairly hard for Mom to hear, today, what with all the fans blowing and sucking, distorting sound as well as producing it, but it'll be worth it. Chances are we'll be spending most of the day in close quarters, anyway. She likes to be present when I'm cooking. She always says, "You like to cook, don't you?" Which always leads into a discussion of how she doesn't like to cook, "has never seen the sense in it". Usually this conversation winds down with her saying, "Well, I guess you got it from Mother. It certainly wasn't from me."
I agree with her, fundamentally, that it is an awful lot of work on something that's going to disappear in 20 minutes and leave a mess behind. I'm often not thrilled with the separate types of preparation necessary and often wish I could just program an idea into a duplicator, a la Star Trek, and, voila, I'm a chef. But, I'm attracted to the chemistry aspect of cooking as it applies to taste.
My mother and I are so unlike one another when it comes to food. I don't think it was until she and I began this last-phase companionship of ours that she even paid much attention to taste or presentation. She loved the social aspect of family meals, which were promoted with gusto in our house. But the cooking...let's just say she was thrilled to be blessed with four girls who all inherited an interest in food preparation. She continued to prepare a fair number of weekday and Sunday dinners, but never minded passing the glory around. Her pan fried chicken is the most succulent I've ever eaten. Her homespun Chicken Mexicali is wonderful; sort of like Swiss Steak with chicken. Her Swiss Steak was great, too. Her stew left a lot to be desired, unless she accidentally burned it. Her Mac & Cheese is the basis for mine, without the ketchup, although I used to eat it and like it with ketchup. I use chopped sun-dried tomatoes, now, instead. She was a good bread maker at one time. We used to have home made bread fairly often on Guam. I'm not sure she liked doing it, but she loved, loved, loved slicing off big hunks of it, slathering it with butter and eating it. That's why I continue to make breadmaker bread in the winter. I've modified her tastes, though. When a loaf of Basil Bread emerges, she enjoys it with very lightly salted, garlic infused with the slices of sauteed garlic still in it) warm-from-the-skillet olive oil. That was my idea. I remember telling Mom, when I introduced it, which we both recall because I made her wait for a piece of bread until I concocted the spread on the spot, that I just had "this idea" that these things would taste good on the freshly baked, warm bread.
After taking the first bite she said, "You sure have some good ideas, girl."
Since, we've also used my home mixed garlic butter on the bread. That's delicious, too.
I think, too, since forgetting that she smokes, her sense of taste has revived, some. It is her habit, now, to informally grade meals, especially dinner, but often breakfast and lunch, especially if I've fiddled with those menus, which are often the same for stretches of time.
As to her enjoying watching me cook, I think part of the pleasure is that it reminds her of when us girls used to cook at home, especially big family dinners in which everyone, including Mom (she usually prepared and cooked the main entrée) participated.
Which reminds me...soon after I mentioned, some months ago, maybe around Christmas, that I continue to let her chop things, I stopped doing that. She almost sliced off her finger while hacking through celery. She laughed. That wouldn't be the first time. When she was a girl she almost severed one of her middle fingers. I forget how; I'll have to ask her. This is my reminder. Anyway, she is still conscious of that finger. When I go to test her blood glucose, if we're "on" that finger, she always reminds me of the scar, as if this is a problem when it comes to getting an accurate glucose reading; sort of a reversal of the thought process that leads to women stripping before they get on a weight scale. As I'm recalling, when that finger 'comes up', she also says, "Did I ever tell you about the time...", and she has, so I interrupt her and say, "Yes," but, apparently, I haven't heard about it often enough to remember it. I need to ask her about that today. This is my second reminder.
Later.
