Do you like it? Do you eat it? My mom made BLT’s for me during college on Sundays. It would be Sunday lunch with shoe string fries that she fried up in the bacon fat for an extra flavor taste. What did we know about unhealthy eating back then? I used to get a BLT in Morgantown WV when we traveled there for orthodontic appointments. They were memorably sublime. Kidding! I just remember that we’d stop in the same diner downtown and I’d always have a BLT. Some who know me also know I’m a creature of habit. I still like a BLT. …very occasionally, ‘cause they are not exactly healthy to eat. This package was unrefrigerated in the grocery aisle. I paused. Ha ha. This sh*t is worse than Spam. 70 calories 45 from fat! Well, Spam’s worse – 120 cal/slice 110 from fat. Either way, look at the price per unit – $31 /lb. Eat steak. Eat filet mignon. Eat as much as you want. Bacon is fat and it’s expensive fat. Where’s the bang for your buck? I? Me? I still like a BLT when I can persuade my personal cook to make one. Otherwise I don’t order one in a restaurant. So many choices so little time…
A scallion pancake is a staple in many Chinese restaurants these days. This place in the ‘village’ (Greenwich) downtown was a joint I’d passed many times. I’d never stopped. It looked vaguely unclean. It was a joint. There were many better choices. Finally?! We stopped one day – ate at one of the picnic tables. I ordered scallion pancakes. The rest is history. It is one of Dave’s favorites. We order them whenever they are on the menu. We’ve had them in restaurants all over. Dave will eat an order all by himself. Ha! Who knew? But, it was here. Right in this place. It all started here. I don’t know if it’s still in business. It wasn’t that great in the scheme of things. But here’s where the memory began. … well we did pass this street recently. The restaurant is gone. Long live the fond memory.
You dream of snowy days when you go skiing. It happens rarely enough that I dream of it. Oh, the powder, and, to ski on freshly fallen snow, the skis just shushing along quietly carving a turn…. We would rent a ski place for a long weekend and everyone brought stuff (groceries). Where do you put your bananas? I laughed when I came across this slide. Yeah, it was pretty practical…and funny.
We were a considerate lot. Everyone chipped in and brought food. Hence, two sets of bananas here… Dinner in or out? I remember one memorable dinner in which one spouse accused another’s of food poisoning. Who knows? Maybe? But he never ate her chicken again. Yes, it was pretty nice to meet up and share the fun. Unfortunately, conditions in the east are not always ideal. And the ski level of the group ranged from the (eeek!) amateur to the (calm) expert. It was always fun to pick a trail every one could navigate.
Don’t laugh I take pictures of the oddest things. What’s in your ‘fridge? I never kept ketchup in it. Lisa’s family did. Vinegar? We kept peanut butter there. Mustard? Oil? Butter? I was told that butter can sit out covered in a dish. It might be soft, but, it’s oh so spreadable. We all have our bias about what goes in and what stays out. I keep bottle cranberry juice out. It doesn’t go bad, a testament to those chemicals at the end of the ingredient list. Yup, I’m still here and untouched by food poisoning. We got Crisco in there? And that’s a chestnut cake (whipped cream frosting). So, it was the prelude to Thanksgiving. I guess that justifies the picture. There ain’t no style in this food photo.
Revere ware. It’s the pots I grew up with. My mother had a set. I had some too. Then I lost them. Don’t ask. I’ve been collecting them again – thrift stores are a great place to find things. I have a lot of mismatched pots at this point. And among them are Revere pots. But this latest find was from the later copper clad collection. It was used and abused, found in the discard pile at the thrift store the other day. It would sell in the antique store for real money. Here, it was a steel (sic). No, silly! Copper.
I don’t bake. Yes, I’m a scientist – of sorts. I cook. It’s largely undisciplined – like me! But baking? That’s a whole ‘nother ball of wax. We had leftover egg whites from making pie. Yes! It was a stunning Atlantic Beach pie from the NYT. Imagine it covered in whipped cream – but then you’d not see the pie.
Meringue cookies! Yes! Brilliant! A disaster even by my humble standards. Mix, measure, match, bake. Utter disaster! We trashed a sifter, egg beater, mixer, and a stand mixer all within one bake. No sh*t Sherlock! Yes, that would be a record for ‘round these parts. And the cookies were flat! Tasty but flat. The egg whites needed more beating! Duh! I’d write in all CAPS!, but you get it. Too funny. It cost me. I had to buy one each… and yes, this time it was a Kitchen Aide stand mixer. I register protest here and now. I wonder how the next batch of meringue cookies will turn out?
If you’re ever in Paris do stop at Angelina’s. Maybe it’s still there? It was in the guide book. I don’t read guide books. Someone else in our group had this place on the “to do” list. It is the home of the “Mont Blanc.” That would be a meringue cookie over a chestnut cream covered in chocolate or maybe it’s the other way ‘round. But the total package is worth the trip. I still dream about it. There is nothing like it in America. Chestnuts generally are not considered too much except roasted in NYC in the winter in Central Park. I’ve had a connection to chestnuts since I grew up in West Virginia and my mother used them in chestnut stuffing of her own concoction. I still make my stuffing that way. I’ve got the recipe (Mont Blanc) but it’s something you dream about but never get around to making yourself. I shall continue to pine. I hope Angelina is still there.
The second image is an extra. My edit came across the contents of the hotel safe in Paris. What would you keep safe? Stuffed animals and framed prints. Of course! My kids?
Ten years. Shutterfly keeps sending me reminders of what I did ten years ago. Look? Meanwhile, I had just dreamed I was back in Saudi working. I had a hole in my grey slacks. Imagine the trivial details your mind makes up in dreams. Another school shooting yesterday. It must have weighed in my dream too. I dreamed of a car load of weapons. I don’t shoot. Meanwhile (again), it was Dave’s graduation. Tuition done! I paid. It was a ton of money. He used his degree? I get his periodic USC news magazines. I don’t want them. The best thing of the day? His cousin’s (future) husband arranged for us to have a sushi celebration dinner at a high end LA restaurant. He’s an actor (starving, of course). I don’t eat fish let alone raw. It was sublime! – as in the best I’ve ever had (the one and only time I’ve ever had). Yes, that was the first and last time. If you could bottle a perfect memory that sushi was the quintessential perfect memory. So, there’s no point in ever being disappointed in the future. Lila used to tell me that she remembered many a memorable meal and where she ate it. I don’t “live to eat.” But, sometimes I think of what she said once upon a time.
No, I’m not OCD. Am I? No matter. Here’s something you don’t see every day: Spinning in the park. Or, bobbin lace. It’s a craft not in much popularity. It’s intricate and fascinating. The artist said take all the pictures you want, just none of me. The sheep are trimmed and groomed for show. Why? The fleece is reduced to short fiber. The sheep sure look better. But then again maybe I forgot, they are destined to be eaten. Lamb burger? Gyro?