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?
Food photography eludes me. I take lots of images. But styling ain’t my deal. Here’s one more attempt. I’m not touting recipes. There isn’t any that I particularly follow. Instead I’m more Food Channel. Make it up on the fly. This is a casserole? What’s not to like? I layered potatoes, tomato, mushrooms, cheese, and spinach. Maybe there was more… oh and lots of pepper and salt. Yeah. If it tastes good, it’s bad for you. Add butter or cream and even some eggs, you got a whole ‘nother dish. Meanwhile, I got these shots. We ate it. It tastes way better than it looks. And, that! That’s what counts. Mmmm, the smell and taste. Yeah, it was good. You can’t take a picture of taste. For that you use your own experience.
My last experiment taught me that I need a pasta maker. We borrowed/took one from a relative. She wasn’t using it. So, it’s on, sort of, permanent loan. But I told her I borrowed it. I actually did good. The pasta doesn’t resemble anything store bought. It’s gluten free. Ha! Can’t you tell? Anyway, it’s all in the sauce. The foundation (pasta) worked just fine.