Chinee food!

O.K. I know I'm going to offend someone with that title.  But it goes way back, decades, to my Charlie Chan days on television.  Maybe even before.

But . . . I made some egg drop soup tonight for SWMBO and I.  It was easy.  It was delicious.  The recipe came from the internets.  Again, can I say: it was easy, it was delicious.

That was a preview to my Kung Pao Chicken.  My Kung Pao Chicken.  I do exaggerate.  It came in a frozen bag from the supermarket.  Heat it up in a large non-stick frying pan, throw in the bag of peanuts, toss in the bag of sauce.  Combine it all with the microwaved bag of rice.  It's dinner!

It's amazing what they can do with frozen food these days. 

But, by gawd, my egg drop soup was made from scratch.  And it was good.  And there's enough left for tomorrow.

Snow again

Well, I've done it again - bragged about our wonderful, balmy, warm Arizona weather to all of my friends in much colder and snowier climes.  And this is what I get for it.



The weatherman says we may have 4 inches or more by tomorrow but the temperature is forecast to go up to the 50's by Monday so this will not last.

The worst part is that the wet, sticky snow messes up my television reception because it sticks to the satellite dish and blocks the signal from coming through.  I've been up on a ladder brushing it off and even sprayed the dish with silicone spray but so far that's not working.  Next up: cooking spray.  Or maybe WD-40.  That's supposed to fix everything.

Bridge progress . . and weather

Here's the latest update on the bridge construction on Highway 89-A over Viewpoint Road in Prescott Valley.  Concrete on both sides of the road now.  First the north side.

 Then the south side.



Then the weather.  It's getting breezy and the temperature is dropping.  There's a prediction of rain and snow for about the next week.  We don't expect much, if any, snow here but perhaps in the upper elevations to the north and the east.  But . . . in 1996, SWMBO and I opened a bookstore here on March 3rd.  The weather up until then had been dry and mostly warm.  But during the night before our grand opening, a snowstorm hit and the big day dawned with a lot of snow.  SWMBO said "I'm staying home," but I was determined to open the store on schedule.  I think we had about three customers all day.  It definitely wasn't worth it.  The only thing good about late snowfalls here is that it never lasts long.  Within a day or two all the snow had melted away and the sunshine was back.  Now that we're retired (mostly) we can just stay inside at home and watch the weather through a window.  So, I say . . . "bring it on!"

Blackness

The weather is changing.  There's a cold breeze out there tonight.  Possible rain, possible snow is on the way.  The moon is 98 percent full tonight but shrouded in clouds.

It's a Sherlock Holmes kind of night.  One could imagine hearing the howling of the hounds on the moors.  If one had hounds.  And moors.

What could protect me against the terrors of the night?  There's only one hope.

My faithful companion.  Blackwell.  The blackest of cats.

Pizza

O.K.  This is my second.  I'm kind of proud of it.

It's actually round!  Well, mostly.  My first one was shaped sort of like an infected kidney.  But I figured out how to roll one out with a rolling pin and made this one mostly round.  I also doped it with a lot of sauce, a lot of cheese and a lot of pepperoni.  And a lot of Italian seasoning.

My second one was a lot better than the first one.  I should have baked this one a little longer to firm up the crust a bit but I'm learning.

Now, if I could just be a little more patient with my photography . . .

Old Time Rock 'n' Roll

I heard a piece on National Public Radio a few minutes ago about a young couple and the music played at their wedding reception.  She had a favorite song, he said it wasn't right.  Sometime during the reception, she talked to the band and the result was . . .



I love this song, too.

For some reason it reminds me of a disk jockey I once worked with in Bismarck, North Dakota.  His name was Jack Fisher and he was known as The Old Reb on the air.  But previously he had worked a morning show at a station in Minneapolis which was sponsored by, of all companies, a beer maker.  He called his show the Beer Bash and used to say (at 8 or 9 in the morning), "Hey, ladies, wouldn't a nice cold beer taste good right now?"  Ah, those were the days.

Update: One of my readers is a colleague from my earliest days in radio.  He has a real name but I have always called him Danny Bananas and by that name he shall be known here.  He sends occasional comments by e-mail and I have just received one from him.  He says the d.j. I mentioned was not the Old Reb, he was the Ol Reb.  I stand corrected.  And I just remembered the name he used on his Beer Bash.  It was Throckmorton.  Throckmorton and the Beer Bash.  Those were the days!

The Valentine's Day Massacre

The St. Valentine's Day Massacre in Chicago, Illinois, occurred a mere 82 years ago, in 1929.  Al Capone was in Florida but his gunsels lined up 7 rival gangsters from the Bugs Moran gang and machine-gunned them.  Capone later went to prison on evasion of income tax charges.  He died in 1947 of cardiac arrest at his home in Miami Beach.   Moran died of lung cancer in Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary in 1957.

All of which is to wish you all a happy St. Valentine's Day.  It was a little calmer around our home.  I fixed a Shrimp Scampi bake, Fettucini Alfredo, a salad, a freshly-baked loaf of French bread and we tested out a couple of straight-from-the-supermarket cheesecake samples for dessert.  Oh, and a bottle of Chardonnay.  I meant to take pictures but everything was getting done at the same time and in the excitement I forgot.  So this is the only one I got, after the cheesecakes.

The BRD communicated by e-mail this afternoon and told me of her menu for herself and her Beau Jack: Brie en croute, shrimp cocktails, lobster bisque with salad, Red Velvet cake and champagne.

Sounds like all four of us did pretty good today.  I hope your day (and eating) went just as well.

The anxiety dream

I used to be a television news producer.  Local television station in Phoenix.  But I decided what stories would run in the newscast, in what order they would run, which anchor would read each story, rode herd on the reporters who did the stories, and usually wrote much of the rest of the newscast, including the idiotic "teases" for the next segment.  I also used to start my job by writing: "Good evening, I'm _______________ (and) Good evening, I'm _________________."  I always used to say that if I didn't include that page in the script the anchors would forget to introduce themselves.

Well, those days are long in my past now and I don't think any of the current anchors would forget to mention their names at the top of the newscast.

I left television news in 1985.  That's 26 years ago.  But I have had a recurrent dream over the years.  In it, I am still producing newscasts but with one major difference.  I never get it done.  Problems develop throughout the day, usually of my own doing and procrastination.  Suddenly it is time for the newscast to go on the air and I have . . . NOTHING . . . prepared!  No script, no video, no pictures, nothing!  I usually go running down the stairs to the studio and hand the anchors a wadded handful of wire copy and  . . . then . . . I wake up in a cold sweat.

This is my anxiety dream.  I have learned from talking to people over the years that everyone has one.  For instance, SWMBO's anxiety dream usually involves moving her home and packing boxes and never being ready, never getting it all done.  She has, thanks to me and others, had to go through the "moving experience" a number of times in her life.  Once, we moved out of her large house to an apartment 20 miles or so away and when she came back to do the last run-through of the house, she found her son (who supposedly was far away starting a new life) sleeping on a bare floor in his previous room.  He didn't know we were moving, we didn't know he was returning to "his home."  But, you can see why SWMBO would have a "moving" anxiety dream.

All of this is to explain that last night, I had my "producer dream" again.  And it was great!  Everything went well all day, I had a script to hand each of the anchors at newstime, the reporter tape "packages" were ready to go and the newscast went beautifully.  I told SWMBO about it today and she said "So are you finally released?"  I said "I think so.  I hope so."

We all have anxieties, most of them hidden in our psyches.  They tend to come out and plague us in our dreams.  I really do hope mine are gone.

Except - - - now I find myself thinking about my problems with cooking!

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

On another topic entirely.  The BRD and her Beau Jack went to the Grand Canyon today with his son and the son's fiancee.  A picture was snapped at the rim.

I told her it should be captioned "The Silver Foxes".  She said it would be lovely and true.  So here they are.  The Silver Foxes.  Damned good looking couple, don't you think?

Homemade bread

You may recall that I've taken over much of the cooking in my house.  Some of it has been good, some of it just o.k. and some of it has been pretty bad.

A couple of days ago I dragged out our old, hardly ever used bread machine to see what I could do.

My first loaf suffered because I forgot to use warm liquid.  That was pretty much a short little hockey puck.  The second loaf was a potato bread that turned out a lot better.  But my healthy diet conscious wife said "why don't you try something with whole wheat flour."  (I knew that was coming and had already considered it.) 

In the meantime, I had bought a quart of buttermilk because I thought I'd seen a recipe that looked interesting.  I made buttermilk/banana pancakes this morning.  Now neither of us is fond of pancakes but we got through them and I thought they were pretty good.  But I still had quite a bit of buttermilk and was wondering how to use it before it went bad.  (Which brings to mind the old line - How do you tell if your buttermilk has gone bad, anyway?  But that's beside the point here.)

SWMBO to the rescue!  She found a recipe on the Internet for Buttermilk Honey Wheat Bread made in a bread machine.  The recipe said it would only take 55 minutes.  Now, I know how long my bread machine takes just to knead the dough and let it rise and bake it and I seriously doubted that.  But I went ahead, tossed it together and turned on the machine.  It's clock told me it would be all ready in . . . . . 3 hours and 45 minutes!  But hey, I'm retired, I've got nothing but time. 

It finally got done, we tasted it and loved it.  Wonderful!

It's a small loaf but there are only the two of us and we can always make more.

If you're so inclined, you can find the recipe here.  Just don't trust it when it says it only takes 55 minutes.

The new Blackwell

Frequent readers of this blog may remember a scrawny, scarred-up, underfed cat that began hanging around my residence after I began feeding him in the garage.  He had, at that time, been dubbed "Blackie Detroit."

But he kept getting into fights and coming around more and more scarred up.  So we took him to the Humane Society, had him neutered and brought him home to become an "inside cat."  He's gotten out a couple of times and explored a bit but doesn't seem to get into any more fights.  What he does do a lot of is eat!  And eat and eat and eat.  That little kitten has grown into quite a heavyweight cat.

 

And he's my buddy now.  He lets me pet him, scratch his head and back, even his tummy now and then.  And when I'm not using it, he takes up residence on my bed.  Last night I found him acting nearly human, taking a snooze using a pillow to rest his head.

 

As you can see, he's become quite a home cat.  And when we brought him in he acquired a new name.  He is the much more sophisticated "Blackwell" now.

Tumbleweed Junction

Out here in the wild (South)West, spring brings a plethora of nasty plants which go by the name of tumbleweeds.  They're called that because when the plant dies and dries, it breaks off and the large, sort of round top part tumbles across the deserts with the wind.  Where I live, in the high desert, there are thousands of them on pastureland and vacant lots.



Barbed wire (or as it's called down South "bob wire") fences catch a lot of them and I saw some town work crews out gathering them up and hauling them away this morning.

But the fences don't get all of them and frequently they are encountered on streets and highways.  They can get caught under one's car but usually they just kind of explode and scatter when they're hit.


Now if you've ever watched an old Western movie, you've no doubt seen tumbleweeds.  And there's even a great old song about them.



And yes, that fellow who came down the stairs and stopped to listen was the "King of the Cowboys" - Roy Rogers.

A musical interlude

Here's a neat song from those round-the-world musicians at Playing for Change.  In honor of Bob Marley.  I like the work of the two brothers(?) from Italy, Simone and Roberto Luti.



(Thanks to my buddy, Jeff, for tipping me to it.)

Monday update

As I wrote to my friend, Phil, he can wear his "cheesehead" proudly now that the Lombardi trophy has been returned to Green Bay with the Packers' win over the Steelers in yesterday's Super Bowl.

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Progress continues to be made on the Highway 89-A overpass at Viewpoint Road in north Prescott Valley.  The north side now has concrete in place.

The south side looks like it's getting ready to match it.

Traffic is still moving normally through the intersection while heavy equipment continues to roll on the project.

I think the entire project is supposed to be done in the fall of this year.  I'll keep you posted.

Sunday morning . . .

. . . is just right for homemade cranberry muffins.

A chocolate mess

I am constantly finding recipes on television, the Internets, in magazines or newspapers that sound simple and good.  Frequently . . with my limited cooking skills . . they turn into disasters, with a knowing grimace on the face of SWMBO.  Today was such a case.

I discovered a recipe in a local paper for what was termed "Hot Fudge Cake".  Sounded pretty good and fairly simple.  It was loaded with brown sugar, cocoa and chocolate chips.  What could go wrong with that, right?

Well perhaps the first indication that this was a weird recipe was that it was baked or cooked in a crock pot.  You know, a slow cooker.

But I charged ahead into the fray, first making a batter (no eggs though).  Brown sugar, cocoa, flour, baking powder and salt which was then combined with some milk, melted butter and vanilla extract.  Spread that in a crock pot that had been sprayed with cooking spray.  Top it with a cup and a half of chocolate chips.  Then combine some more brown sugar, cocoa and boiling water and pour it over the top.  Put a lid on it, turn it to high and leave it for 4 hours.

The room smelled marvelous until the last 15 minutes or so when SWMBO asked how long that thing was supposed to cook because it was smelling "scorchy".  I said everything was under control.  At exactly 4 hours I lifted the lid, did the toothpick test in the middle of the "cake" and it came out clean.  Done.  Except it was bubbing a bit menacingly around the edges and, yes, it did smell a bit "scorchy".

SWMBO said she'd like to ask the recipe's author why they didn't explain how to get the "creation" out of the pot.  I said we'll just put a plate over it and invert it.  But first maybe I'd check the sides with a spatula.  Hmmmm.  Some parts took some shoving and scraping to get it loose.  Seemed a bit charred.  But nevertheless, I did the inverting process, tapped the bottom of the cooker and picked it up.  Out tumbled a kind of muddled mess of chocolate in several forms.  Some of it was cake.  Quite a bit was liquid chocolate.  Parts of it were burned hard bits.  Definitely not a sight one would want to show off in a photograph or on a nice party plate for guests.

But . . . it tasted delicious!  Chocolate flavor to the max.  Oh we'll eat it and it goes especially good with some vanilla ice cream.

But I doubt if I'll ever make another one.  Certainly not in a slow cooker.

But then . . .

Tortilla Soup

My cooking adventures continue.  Today I made tortilla soup.  I have to credit where credit is due.  The recipe came from a restaurant in Prescott, Arizona.  Murphy's.  SWMBO and I had it there, loved it, begged for the recipe and found enough people had asked for it that they had it printed up.  So, herewith, "Murphy's Tortilla Soup".

1 cup fresh corn kernels
2 Tablespoons sweet butter
4 cloves garlic - minced
1 cup onion - diced
1/2 cup carrots - diced
1 stalk celery - diced
1/2 cup Anaheim chili pepper - seeded, chopped fine
1 Tablespoon ground cumin
1-1/2 Tablespoons chili powder
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1-1/2 cups tomatoes - diced
1 quart chicken stock
1 bunch cilantro - chopped
1-1/2 cups cooked chicken - diced
1-1/2 Tablespoons salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper - freshly ground

2 cups tortilla chips - broken into small pieces
1 cup Monterey Jack cheese - grated

Cut raw kernels off corn cob with a sharp knife. (I used frozen corn kernels - easier.)  In a large saucepan, melt the butter over moderate heat, add the garlic, onion, celery, corn, carrots and Anaheim chile and cook for 3 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onion is translucent.

Stir in the cumin, chili powder and oregano and continue stirring another minute to toast the spices.  Add the tomatoes, stock, cilantro and chicken.  Bring mixture to a boil and simmer for 10 minutes.  Season with salt and pepper.

To serve, distribute the broken tortilla chips equally in the bottom of soup bowls, ladle the soup over them, and garnish each bowl with a tablespoon of cheese.

And to further enjoy your meal, play this video.

Madness this way comes

I was listening to NPR this afternoon while I was driving home from running some errands.  A producer of television commercials was being interviewed about his craft.  He said an average commercial during the Super Bowl can cost one million dollars to produce.  But, he said, that's not bad because the television audience for the big game is around 100 million people, in the U.S. alone.  I think the commercials are the best part of the telecast and I've heard of people who tape them during the game so they can watch them over and over.  For example, thanks to YouTube, here are somebody's 10 best commercials from Super Bowl 42 in 2008.



This year the Pittsburgh Steelers will play the Green Bay Packers in the Super Bowl on Sunday.  I'll probably watch . . for the commercials . . but I'll have a hard time forgetting a friend of mine who sent me his picture today as he prepared for the big game.  Apparently he's a fan of Green Bay, whose loyalists are known as . . . . . cheeseheads.

May the best team win.

Trouble in the Middle East

It began in Tunisia, where the government fell to protesters.

Then, on to Egypt, where Cairo is dissolving into chaos.  President Mubarak says he won't run again.  He's 82 years old.  But he says he'll stay in power until the next election, in September.  Many of his citizens say that's not good enough, he must leave immediately.  Today, pro-Mubarak supporters challenged the anti-Mubarak protesters and violence was the order of the day.  It continues tonight.

Around the region, the king of Jordan has sacked his government and appointed a new prime minister.

The president of Yemen says neither he nor his son will run again.

Israel is, as the old expression goes, "on tenterhooks".

Iran is quiet but obviously watching carefully.

As I said to SWMBO today, it will be years before this is all sorted out.

Memories

Y'know this gettin' older thing is a real pain.  Like this morning.  Suddenly I couldn't find a 4 by 6 inch index card on which are inscribed all of my User ID's and Passwords to access my various sites on the World Wide Web.  It's always in the same place, resting on top of my printer.  But not this morning.  So I spent about two hours tearing my den apart.  I emptied a waste basket, then another one, then another one.  Three separate rooms.  I went out to the garage and looked in the recycle bin.  I went through about half of the Sunday New York Times, thinking the card had slipped between the pages.  I went through several files in a couple of file drawers.  I accused SWMBO of stealing the card.  She helped me look for awhile and offered several worthless suggestions about where it could be.  I said "I give up", then I searched some more.  I got down on my hands and knees under my desk. (Wow, is it dusty down there!)  Then I looked everywhere I had looked before.  Nada.  Zip.  Then I asked Blackwell if he had taken it.  Blackwell is a cat, for cryin' out loud, and he was staring at me like I had completely lost my mind.  Which I nearly had.  That card had to be here somewhere.

Then I found it.  It was lying on the coffee table in the living room, underneath a Netflix envelope.  When I finished the movie I watched last night, I took the envelope and the disc to the other room for SWMBO to view later.  But I also picked up my index card at the same time, unknowingly, unwittingly.

I mean: I have the information written on the index card so I don't have to remember all of it.  But it doesn't help if I misplace the card and can't remember where it went, now does it?

Pam Peterson knows how I feel.

Bob Schneider sings!

I had never heard of this guy until I saw him on Austin City Limits this week.  Now, I'm a fan.  He's one of those amazing musicians that continue to be turned out in Texas.  He doesn't look like he does in this video.  The hair is shorter but shaggier and he has a full beard.  In a brief interview after his performance he said he can't figure out why people pay money to come and listen to him sing songs he wrote in his bedroom.  He reportedly has a repertoire of 400 songs.  This one . . . performed on an earlier ACL show . . . reportedly is his trademark.  Get up on your feet and prepare to "shake your booty!"



This next one is even better.