racheld

Bring on those stables!! I'll clean 'em---anything that needs HOTTTT water and scrubbies and brushes and sponges, I'm your girl. And tomorrow is dishwasher-arm day, with hopes of getting the microwave installed maybe Monday. I don't want Chris to carry that huge thing downstairs by himself, and especially to have to lift it to my eye level height to fit it into the big shelf. I have, however, done inventory and some tossing in my waterless time. And today after the plumber left, I did all the big pots and pans and trays and other things by hand, using hot straight out of the hottest faucet, and rubber gloves, with antibacterial suds and a little nip of Clorox for good measure. Also did all the stuff that would fit on the bottom DW rack---three loadings worth. I finally feel like I'm earning my keep again. And Caro just came in with all manner of wonderful four-snap-top containers. I LOVE getting dry stuff all into see-through containers and lined up all pretty. There's hope for me yet. And probably a trip to Good Earth or Wild Oats where all those dispensers and bins of scoopable goodies live.

Yes. Thank you, Maggie, for bringing this one to our attention. And thank you, Arthur, for a double glimpse into cuisines not my own, but both much loved.

Kudos to ALL!! Quite remarkable feats, both cooking and cleaning. I'm in a bog, nothing accomplished for DAYS Intentions, yes. Impetus, ditto. But Inclination---that went the way of the dishwasher arm, which was resting atop the bottom dishes when I opened it one day last week. I quickly onlined the parts, being promised them "between the 11th and 18th" with an astonishingly-quick delivery of most with a day, but one piece. Five boxes of parts ranging from flat and impressive to screw-size wee, sitting beneath the china cabinet. I put the evening teapot into the microwave a day or two later, and upon opening the door, still cool. I tried again; it counted down exactly three seconds, wheezed to a halt. Banged on the front with the cushy part of my palms---started right up, made the tea and perhaps one other dish, before dying entirely. No fear, a fortuitous buy of one last fall leads us to have a spare in the house, just not down HERE, and not in the big microwave case on the wall. Maybe this weekend. Then Monday, Caro and I were doing our usual Monday togetherness, cooking a bit, watching a Jane Austen movie, and the sink faucet sprang forth like Niagara. Chris went to Lowe's, bought a nice new one, and encountered Dante's Ninth Ring beneath the counter---a labyrinth of pipes, even after you got past the water softener, the disposal, and the filter thingie on the side wall that keeps the water for the ice machine clear. So, Lowe's made us a deal---they'd send someone to install it, for X dollars, flat rate, no matter WHAT was under there. It just means waiting for whoever they send to arrive. I've been doing my forty handwashings per meal in the bathroom, forgetting and turning it on occasionally, so there are big folded towels at each end of the back indentation to catch mishaps, and I heat things ---- Ta DAH!!! On the STOVE. But it sure cut into my enthusiasm for all things kitchen for a while, including the pantry. I feel as if my life's been choreographed by Mr. O. W. Holmes this week: You see, of course, if you’re not a dunce, How it went to pieces all at once, — All at once, and nothing first, — Just as bubbles do when they burst. I feel as if I'll be doing cartwheels and could clean the Augean Stables, once I get my kitchen back.

whimper

Top of fridge door always holds a quart of Blue Plate for me and all the cooking uses, and beside it, a flat Kraft with the blue flip-top for Chris. He likes it on sandwiches, burgers, and a bit of Pink Sauce (Kraft and a squirt of Heinz Ketchup, doctored up with lemon, Worchestershire, garlic, lime---whatever the whim of the moment) on any kind of cold or fried seafood. When we make a Georgia trip, we pick up a couple of cases of Duke's---there's just something about that TANG that reminds me of other days, other kitchens. And last week, I bought a quart of Hellman's Canola---with the coupon it was a dollar. Everybody in the house has remarked on its consistency not being "right" but when stirred into potato salad, it was fine. Especially with the requisite teaspoon of Durkee's Sauce When there are just a few scrapings left in the jar, in go the makings of one of several kinds of salad dressings---dill, Ranch (homemade with dill pickle juice, just salty enough, without any of the buttermilk), Thousand, bleu cheese---all depending on the salad for that night. They line up in the top slots, as well, and when they are emptied, out goes that container. There's always a fresh one waiting in line.

I was with you all the way to "dust your hands with salt to keep the rice from sticking." All that soy sauce, AND salt all over each piece? Everything else sounded pretty good---and why NOT ham? I'll bet you could cut it into perfect little rectangles. Don't forget to round off the corners!! Aw-then-tissss-ity.

Now, BEER---I'd never have thought of that. We're off in a minute to get a few things from the store, including a potroast for tonight. Last week I cooked two bags of the already-cut turnip greens for supper---they were out of collards, our usual choice. The greens were excellent, with some smoked pork chops and homemade wasptail sauce, but today I'm buying FOUR bags. By the time they cooked down low, and I parcelled out a little Tupperware to DS#2 for his own supper (my dear DIL doesn't like greens, but that's her ONLY flaw ) there was just enough for the three of us at home to have a good-sized serving. The cup or so of leftover pot likker was a dandy soup next day for my lunch, heated up with a wedge of the Mexicorn/jalapeno cornbread. I sipped it out of a big mug between bites of the bread and some cold grape tomatoes. The strong, warm bittery juice and the rich bread and the "POP" of each little burst of Summery tomato---memorable.

What a morning!!! I woke to the sound of birds, to sunshine through the curtains, to the scent of coffee perking in the kitchen---and after a cheery greeting from Chris------this MAGICAL slideshow of Spring and the most beautiful picnic I've ever seen. I cannot tell you the effect of all the beauty from so far away---and the so-exquisitely-prepared and arranged picnic fare. I thought yesterday's viewing was a jewel-box, but today's went straight into the Emperor's treasure chest and spilled it out onto the grass. The import given to the time of the blossoms, the honor given to the season, the savoring of the scent, the colors, the vistas---your sheer preparation time and effort and care are a marvel to see, displayed there on your picnic cloth. A stopping to be in the fleeting moment of first Spring is often passed by in a blur, but the way you captured the blossoms and the repast and the bright of the day---I'll carry that for a long, long time. I cannot thank you enough for this glimpse of another place I'll never see save through pictures and through the eyes of friends. This is just the loveliest picnic I can imagine. I often think of a line in Clavell's Shogun, "Will you come and enjoy my sunrise?" The two fierce men sat and just were in the beauty of the morning, as if it were the only one. You've given great honor and import to the blossoms and the season, and I thank you from my heart for taking me along.

Folgers comes in plastic?? Yes. My Webpage And now that I've outed myself as such a plebeian coffee-drinker to these august pages, I'll just say that it's one of the few kinds which is pre-ground of a size NOT to fall through the holes in my percolator. And that buying any beans, no matter how elite and rare, grinding them results in SOME powder which a filter-system will take out, but not the perc. And at some times of the year, and at this time of my life, I just get a craving for the old days, the old ways, and waking up at my age to the familiar, remembered scent of the same coffee as I had in my teens and young married life---well, Proust liked what HE remembered, and Tom Wolfe was only partly right.

Now, see----THAT'S the REAL Mother of Invention. Necessity has caught folks off guard more times than prepared. THIS is inspirational. And guilt-inducing---just the right proportions of each.

I have NO neuroses at all. None. How dare you suggest such a thing? I order "No lettuce" on ANY sandwich cause it makes the BREAD WET.

Alas, no, though I long to do so. Too much childhood exposure to the grim ins and outs of the cleaning process, I think, though I did have a pang of regret for the older couple next door whose subsistence seemed predicated two or three days a week on his perpetual fishing forays. But I can make a bowl of tuna salad and eat it all myself twixt two noons---its pink canned-ness puts it at a remove, somehow, from a creature of the deep. I DO fear I would have one small problem with the days-of-the-week sorting of the garbage---I save every big plastic Folger's coffee container against the day of glass breakage---I've even been known to smash the pieces even smaller to make them fit safely into the container, so as not to have a nasty surprise poking through the bag.

On further reflection and research, my "review" wasn't THAT bad. Witness the following: My Webpage It's not MY webpage---belongs to a fellow experimenter named Paul Lukas. Well, you DID ask.

Apologies to Ndy, Batard, Pierogi, Ducky Dear, Rooftop, and Jim---sorry for the nausea. And to anyone else, in perpetuity---it's too late to fix now. It was just that bad, and retrospect has not dimmed its grue. And Jim---I cannot see a post of yours without thinking of Baby Langston---sorry.

From the rosy blossoms to the artist's palette of shades-of-pink fish to the glowing strawberries to their kin on the cake---this is just a jewel-box scattered down the screen. Though I cannot understand how on Earth you took his mere word for how good that chocolate mousse was

I'm trying to visualize salmon rings. Can rings?

Just once. (wince) A friend and I gave a bridal shower at her house---I did the food; she provided the place, etc. We served chicken salad, made fresh that afternoon from skin-on/bone-in breasts. Her bachelor brother got some of the leftovers, and I can remember what he said, "That chicken salad was JUST DELIGHTFUL!" So, disarmed and flattered, I consented to make him some, telling him the list of ingredients to buy. He instead brought the can, for my convenience---Sweet Sue herself, and it was just NOT RIGHT. The gray, speckled cylinder came whole out of the can, with a "smock" like those gooey, awful canned tamales. I'd seen souse, and that's almost what it looked like---the speckly, cloudy loaf in the deli case. It was almost impossible to debone (due to pressure cooking, or re-cooking in the can for safety reasons)---anyway the whole mass was a soft, gelatinous bowlful of stuff, with all the tiny backbones and bits of cartilage cooked so soft as to almost pass for meat---just horrible to remove. And then, after all that effort---I think I could have put the whole thing through the chinois---it was THAT mushy; the salad itself had no texture, save for the celery and apple bits and little pieces of boiled egg. You coulda served it in pristine balls out of an ice cream scoop. I hated that bowlful to go out of my kitchen, but by the time I finished, it was too late at night to start over with fresh. Been there, done that. So, from my one Sweet Sue experience, I say "nay" unless you're planning soup. Just be careful of the bones. ETA OKAY---now I read your review of it on your blog---I was afraid I was gonna have to "delete" this for fear of being quoted. I trust that will not happen, though our opinions DO coincide.

Me, too, on the shorter side---I'd put three or four tuna cans or tomato sauce cans beneath, for raising the dishpan height a bit in the sink.

Now, THAT I would LOVE! I occasionally go with Chris to his favorite sushi place, and love watching that ballet betwixt fish and knife and all the garnishes and fillings. I do not eat there, but with the fruit bar, it would be the entire experience. Is it possible to have pictures from one?

Moka!!! I know that scent---I smelled it years ago, related WAY upthread about the knife-handle on the dishwasher element, back during Desert Storm. It was like an "I Love Lucy" episode. We stared, dazed and confused, at the suds rising halfway up the lower cabinets. Then someone turned off the dishwasher and we laughed 'till our sides hurt. ← I'd forgotten the "clean the dishwasher with TANG" fad that went around some time back. Someone like Heloise was responsible for that one, I think, or one of her avid readers---then it grew and grew. And probably worked; I don't know. But one neighbor, who did not buy or drink Tang, picked up a jar in the store, read the label, had a very dim lightbulb moment, and put back the jar. She had seen that the ingredients were very similar to those of KoolAid, of which she had an abundance. No lemonade or pink lemonade or watermelon for her lusty brood, oh, no. They didn't drink those sissy flavors. Only strawberry and cherry for them. And what a pack of cherry KoolAid and a scalding water cycle can do to the elderly plastic insides of a dishwater is almost unbelievable. Like an autopsy on a Cyborg. But I dared not laugh til I got home.

It's wonderful to see all the condiments-in-common, from so far away. I recognize lots of the bottle shapes, and what's in them, and it's interesting to see the strange writing on such familiar staples. That could be OUR fridge door, except for the BIG bottle of Heinz ketchup upside down at the bottom. And the part about the freezer made me laugh---it seems like the line we'd see if Dr. Seuss had this week's blog And I love the UNFAMILIAR of this best of all.

Congratulations on your milestone and your exquisitely orderly pantry!! I'm just loving reading about everybody's efforts and successes, and I'm trying valiantly to follow these awesome examples. It's a doors-open day today---sixty degrees!!! THAT will get the Spring-cleaning gene into gear. So far, I'm just up to emptying lots of dry stuff, lots out to the birds, and the dishwasher is on its second whirrr of snap-tops that will emerge pristine and ready for all this NEW dry stuff sitting here in boxes and bags. I had no idea how many gallon jugs of rices and flours and pastas we do have. The pretty little cut-glass jar of fleur de sel, a Saturday gift from Caro, sits shining on the counter. I'm calling that my beacon to keep going, getting eveything as fresh and shiny. Tonight's dinner will be chicken casserole, with Saturday's extra smoked bird; we ate the other one slathered in Sweet Baby Ray's honey sauce, with cold sandwiches of Wonder Bread, Blue Plate mayo, and thin slices of Texas 1015's. Southern ambrosia. Two bags of turnip greens about to go into the big Le Creuset with a frozen hambone, and maybe a skillet of jalapeno cornbread into the oven.

And Lo, the Princesse d'Ange saw the Porke of the Prince du Lac, and found it Goode. And they lived Happylye Ever After. Pixar, are you listening? Congratulations on the new beginning, and better light up that smoker.

Wow, hummingbird---what an accomplishment!!! I just shared out several dry and canned items with my neighbor who came over to raid the freezer last week (by invitation, of course). So I'm making inroads. I bought Fantastic, some scrubby sponges, Mr. Clean swipey sponges, baking soda, and several other good cleaning products today for all the shelving and appliances in the pantry. I even got out the old "ticklefoot"--- one of the long-handled floofy dusters so beloved of the grandchildren---for the far reaches of the top one. (But there ARE those nine other bags sitting in the floor, all left after the freezer and fridge things from this trip were put away). I don't care. I've finally got the inclination. But more IS more, isn't it? PS---Donna, I don't think I'd dive into that ice cream in this weather, but it's certainly worth a screenlick.

Priss, this is perfection in a few paragraphs. I thought perhaps that less-is-more onion knowledge was the province of all the fine Southern cooks I've known, whose mayonnaise, aspic, macaroni salad, Green Goddess and countless other delicately-flavored dishes were gently enhanced by the scrape of a sharp knife over the cut surface of a halved onion. Ten drops carefully counted off the edge into the waiting dish, like the titremetry of a precious elixir. Never more than ten. And I, who have lived a strikingly un-fish life, am inordinately fond of the macaroni salad with a can of Chicken of the Sea stirred in along with the minced celery and home-canned sweet pickles. Against yours, it's hushpuppies to croissants, but it's famliar and comforting and just the thing you want when you see that Tupperware thump down on the Church Supper table. I'd eat yours every Friday, and we're Baptist. Wonderful as always, Canyon Lady.