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Recent News... Just for Pope Gregory... |
2002-07-01 - 6:51 p.m. Squirrels in my grill Ever seen the Jack �n� Jill brand ice cream? I passed one of their trucks this morning and was struck anew by how much their logo resembles the Salvation Army badge. Probably why I never buy that brand. Karma always balances, doesn�t it? I was loading groceries into my car Friday morning, when a kind lady stopped and said I�ll take your cart back; I need one anyway. The gift of a small and random kindness brightened my morning and encourages me to pay it forward. Somewhere, the blond that cut me off Thursday is having trouble parking. Friday, I reaffirmed the simple truth that it isn�t easy being green. All I want is green dividing walls for the new tent. Is that so much to ask? Long tedious story about finding fabric wide enough and in the right color, which leads to dying 90" wide muslin, which won�t turn the correct color. Three dyebaths later, I throw up my hands and decide to co-opt the shower canvas and dye it green. So, what did I learn? Jo-Ann�s muslin is not as dyeable as Dharma�s stuff. I love Dharma. Last night, I started block printing my leaf badge on the beautiful green canvas walls. Sidebar effusive praise for AoD who, as usual, has a simple and cheap suggestion for making leaf stamp: Saturday, I slept late, slept even later, then ran back to the store to get broad leaf parsley (I mistakenly grabbed cilantro the grocery shopping before). Mixed up a batch of bread and made chocolate marscapone mousse. The bread, with some help from Fred-the-sourdough-starter-that-lives-in-my-fridge-and-startles-people-rummaging-the-back-of-the-shelf-for-jelly, came out beautifully. Dense, thin tough crust, soft dough. It didn�t hold it�s shape well while baking � Me, opening the oven and surveying the two loafs that have now morphed together to resemble two kidneys: Argh! Point and laugh. Lucia and I stand in the kitchen and mock the bread�s anatomically features long enough that Roland and Mike wander in to see what we�ve done now. Lucia arrived on time. I won the pool on how late Kevin would be (thanks honey!). Lucia laid out a lovely spread of cheeses, salmon salad on endive and pate (I love pate in all it�s forms � which involves a strange story about fake, but attractive, Musketeers in tights advertising D�Artagnan pate � but I digress) and got started on the gnocchi. While I was worked up the Tuscan steak marinade � something with sun dried tomatoes and capers � and it�s at this point the squirrel enters the story. Our full sized gas grill hasn�t worked in years. And, since we�ve have a small camp grill, we haven�t gotten round to replacing it for the same reason no one modifies garb after they�ve worn it once � functional alternative exists. What I failed to ask Roland when we planned the menu was Is the camp grill working? But I ask him in the shower Saturday morning. Um, no. The valve is clogged. A stop by the Target next to the grocery story produces a small replacement camp grill that Roland finds laughable, so he and Mike work on fixing the old one. Then, they decide to use the non-functioning grill as a stand for the small camp grill. So, they open the lid. The entire inside of the grill is a mass of twigs and leaves. I�ve seen Tarzan, the squirrel that haunts our deck, dart in and out of the side of the grill, but I never thought about it. Apparently, the non functional grill box made a spacious and lovely squirrel condo. Kev, Roland and Mike stare at the stuff, have manly conversation, and clear out the twigs, so they can proceed with the small camp grill. But, the little grill, which is about a decade old, rebels. Despite it�s recent valve cleaning, it won�t stay lit. Needless to say, the squirrel nest demolition crew had had enough and the steaks got broiled in the oven. We finished munching on the appetizers (technical discussion of using olive oil versus melted butter with filio dough) and the first two bottles of wine about an hour before dinner. Then, the gnocchi exploded. None of us had ever made gnocchi before (little potato dumplings, Italian dish). Lucia did a splendid job following her recipe, but they dissolved when dropped in the boiling water. So, we boiled up orzo and moved on. After dinner, Mike, Jake and Roland cleaned up while Kevin, Lucia and I tried to diagnose the gnocchi failure. Me: That pan�s had that patina for years. It�s okay. Mike: But it�s coming off! No wonder Lucia�s mom loves her prospective son-in-law. Strangely, my Italian cookbook specifically warns against using the type of potato Lucia�s gnocchi recipe called for. However, they recommend the gnocchi shaping technique Lucia spontaneously invented anyway because the description in her recipe was too hard. We watch/kibtz through Galaxyquest , kill the dessert wine � fifth bottle of the evening � and finish off all the mousse. Mike, who has a practical point about all the fuss required to make gnocchi and like things, survived the gourmet food madness happily because in the end he got a huge steak and dense chocolate. I think we�re tackling Greek food next. Lucia rattled off a prospective menu but it was all Greek to me. Sunday brought napping and sewing, finished off by Chinese food fest at Bob-n-Laura�s. Laura ordered a scrumptious repast. And let Gen and I run string off her chandelier for spoon tossing. I think you�d better explain spoon-tossing before I agree�. Chinese food followed by a Viking braiding art done using reproduction Tudor spoons as bobbins with Elvis�s greatest hits to keep the rhythm. And the lil� �Elvis on a surfboard� Stitch happy meal toy bobbed and swayed jauntily in time to the music. Eclectic much? � � � 
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