layers

Last night I made enchiladas.

Actually, that's a lie. They weren't technically enchiladas; they weren't rolled, they were layered, and the ingredients were a "creative" combination of truffle mashed potatoes, steamed carrots, green enchilada sauce, sauteed mushrooms, black beans, black olives and cheese. Sharp cheddar, to be specific. Oh, and of course corn tortillas.

I used to make rolled enchiladas, carefully heating each tortilla in hot oil, and purposefully wrapping measured ingredients into each one, stacking them against one another until the pan was full. They looked pretty, and servings were easy to measure out. At some point, I started layering them (it takes far less time) and adding different ingredients such as rice sauteed with ancho chile powder and corn, chicken with thyme, tamari, and ginger... I tried different cheeses, green sauce instead of red, and found the perfect baking dish that is probably meant for small casseroles (it even has a lid for storing in the fridge). I bake them uncovered for about 45 minutes at 400 degrees, till the cheese on top is bubbling.

My enchiladas are no longer truly enchiladas. They are difficult to serve (rather sloppy, actually) and typically look like someone put the ingredients in a blender. But, they are delicious. I guess when it comes down to it, no one cares how pretty the garnish is or how dressed up the food looks, as long as it tastes good.

I still like it to look pretty, but I make an exception for those layers of goodness. A little scoop of plain yogurt sometimes helps...

really very strange

Sunday was not a typical day for me. I wasn't feeling great, so I missed out on the Cross-Country ski adventure, and so planned on tidying house, organizing 'things', and not much more than that.

Oh, how things did not go as planned. First, my house- and car-keys went on a drive in the wrong car, and it was nearly 3 hours before I could catch up to them and get back inside my house. Luckily, it was a beautiful day and my nearly three hours of sitting outside in the yard were pretty comfortable. My dog was outside with me, and I was catching up on world news thanks to my luxury item a.k.a. smart telephone device.

Without going into an overly-detailed account: I was interrupted by one of the strangest events I've ever witnessed. This included a neighbor, who I now think may be mentally deranged, utilizing her back stoop as, well, a poop-stoop. It wasn't pretty. I'd like to tell you how not-pretty it was, but my life has been irrevocably altered by what occurred and there's really no reason for you to have to share in the same misery.

Suffice it to say, I am now considering calling some sort of citizens care hotline, just to see if someone with some sort of credentials will go and check in on That Neighbor. It's concerning, and makes me wonder if perhaps this normal-looking neighbor's house is actually, really very strange inside. What else is going on in there? Do I want to know? Or should I just tell the story and pretend I didn't see anything when I walk out to get the mail.

fare well, dear

Wishing you a peaceful journey, Grandma Peggy.

May your path rise up to greet you, and may you feel all of the love sent your way. Many thanks for the game cupboard, the golf cart rides, and many delightful hours in your swimming pool. You are part of my summer memories for as long as I can remember. Thinking of you, in this, your last adventure...

if home were a stone...

...it would look like this.

I don't usually post twice in one day, but this incredible house in Portugal made my jaw drop.

As I poked around on trendir.com, dreaming of my one-day home (eco cottage, Danish architecture, desert/mountain/seaside, loft, studio, three story with ladders... I'm open) there it was. It feels like stepping into a storybook.

electrochef

I love to cook. Sometimes just pizza with interesting vegetables on top (steamed cauliflower is surprisingly delicious!) and sometimes I like to experiment. I've played with truffle oil, aged balsamic vinegar, used blueberries as a garnish for baked chicken, and added green chiles to seared, sliced polenta. I discovered that cooking without salt lets out a whole spectrum of new flavors (and I looooove salt!).

After years of cooking on gas stoves, I've been learning to cook on electric. It was not a delightful beginning (you mean I have to figure out how hot Medium is, I can't just look at how high the flames are?!), but after some weeks or months (I'll not be telling you exactly how long) I've finally gotten the hang of it. Water continues to boil on my 1970's stove top just below Medium, Warm means Hot, and High means "I'm coming to kill whatever it is you're trying to cook."

I've cooked in restaurants using exotic 12-burner tops and even one-burner camping stoves, learning from great chefs who taught me some of their secrets. One thing I learned was to deviate from the recipe and try an extra pinch of this or that, to use the recipe as a guideline but mostly as an inspiration for new culinary creations. This can come in handy when you happen to be missing one or two ingredients...

And so I come to the point:

In life, it's easy to follow what's written down and make something delicious. What's not so easy is when we encounter something missing, such as a key ingredient and are still expected to have something edible and perhaps even wonderful in the end. I like to think that as I look back on all the meals I've shared, that I can sit happy knowing I made the most delicious dish I could with what I was given, and with what I happened to find sitting around in the bottom drawer of my fridge.

a bit crunchy

Today is all about vintage buttons and ribbons. Why? Who cares. But I'll tell you anyway.

It all started with a computer test that included the note, "This crazy guy eats buttons." Or something to that effect.

is there anything better?

Someone at work has a birthday today. Someone else suggested we get cupcakes from our local Cupcake Royale, so we did. My favorites are the pink ones.

I usually start with half a cupcake and then happily devour the rest. This is inevitably followed by a nice queasy feeling as the sugar, accompanied by massive amounts of fat and processed flour triggers my stomach and brain to simultaneously proclaim "Yay, I love cupcakes!" and "Oh god, I feel sick."

I'm pretty sure if I haven't learned by now, I never ever will.