snowangel

PLEASE share tips. I'm debating removing/putting the stuff on.

Could you elaborate more on the spicy shrimp?

Knife storage. I've had in-drawer "knife block," a knife block on the counter, and a magnetic one on the wall above the sink, below the cheapo microwave we mounted above the sink. I LOVE THE MAGNETIC ONE. The knives and kitchen snippers are right there. Take up no counter space (not that I have any counter space). OK? Here's a question about knife blocks. How much gunk ends up in those slots? Thanks for the update, Dave. We're looking forward to seeing the photos of kitchen with a new floor, etc.

This is very much reminding me of my first visit to Reed College, Portland, OR, circa 1978-79 to visit my sister. She, a frosh, subscribed to the dorm/college meal plan thing. I remember well that back then, there was the group of Reedies who stood at the place where you took your tray after you were done, and they scavanaged. So, what is old is new. Waste not want not.

Anna, glad to know another grandparent spends as much time sweeping up the fairy dust as do my parents. And, it is time to spend some time in the kitchen with Miss Jess telling her stories and teaching her how to do what you do, as my grandmother did for me when I was just 4 of 5 years old, and as has my mother has done for my children. Frugality. It's the difference in me being home and working outside the house. Waste not, want not. One of those sayings of my grandmother, just as was "the good dryer gets what the washer misses."

Thanks for blogging, AnnaN! I have a busy day tomorrow, and was at a loss for what to cook for dinner until I saw what you had for lunch. My kitchen looks almost identical to yours, except our sinks and stoves are reversed. I also have a few tall (fine for me!) cupboards above the peninsula. I also have a deep pantry with shelves on a wall nearby. But, I need to do some retrofitting with sliders because the pantry is so deep I can't get to the stuff behind it, even with my very long arms! Meatballs. I may have missed this, but do you serve them with a sauce?

No. Too busy drinking beer and tending my butt to bother with finding the foil. BTW, it was sublime on squishy buns with =Mark's bbq sauce (mustard and vinegar) as well as on corn tortillas with pico/salsa and a dash (well, more than a dash) of Tabasco cipotle. Shit, this stuff is good cold, via fingers. A cool, rainy day made smokin' easy (read easy temp control) and I am so proud that I've finally figured out just how to load this weber kettle to achieve temp control. Would that I could stuff more meat into the grill. Edited to add: yes, one pile on one side. Works much better. Give you more grill space. I just wish I chould have added a couple of racks of ribs. If you are smoking, put as much meat on the grill as you can. It does shrink, considerably, so next time, once the butts have experienced some shrinkage, I will add more meat and just prolong the experience (and drink more beer, smoke more Old Golds).

For some reason, this morning, after church, Paul said, let's stop by the market on the way home, and you can get a chuck roast. I need pot roast. I had plenty of potatos, carrots, onions in the larder. Also great salad fixings. Little did I realize that shortly after I put the thing in the oven to braise, and set the carrots to roast, that it would start snowing. So, our meal was not only calendar, but weather appropriate. When I returned home from an extravagant yarn-buying trip with my mother, the house was perfumed (serious yarn purchases are another sign that the Weather Has Turned).

I have the luxury, as a stay-at-home, to plan meals fairly spur of the moment. I can get to the farmer's market almost every day of the week (save Wednesday for yoga lessons ). But, I try to be somewhat time economical. I do like the fact that I can decide fairly spur of the moment what we we (meaning me) will feel like eating). But, how many of you find yourselves making the next list (primarily of staples) as you are putting the newly-purchased groceries in the appropriate places? How many of you with kids, spouse, SO or roomie find yourself realizing that that container that has been so respectfully placed in the proper spot is EMPTY? Or those early morning, not quite awake yet "honey, would you remember to get _____ at the market?" (Never mind that the list, as it has been for the last umpteenth years, firmly affixed to the fridge with a magnet and pen?) At my local markets, they must think I am unbelievably disorganized. I'm there often enough that they know me. In my next life, I'll be a mind reader.

Enjoy the knife, Carolyn, and think of the legacy every time you use it. I am unbelievably sorry to hear about your mother. Although this does not begin to compare, I lost both of my grandmothers a few years ago. The legacies abound. The cookie cutters, the recipe, written by my grandmother's great grandmother for Christmast cookes. The wisdom and lore of gardening, picking and "putting up." (Per Grandma Iona, had we had deep freezers which I was a kid, do you think we'd have been canning tomatoes? Nope. Just sticking them in the freezer. A hand-made quilt? Outside of a wedding quilt, we'd have done them on machines had we had something other than those treadles which gave us oh so many cramps in our calves. The knowledge of grape pie. Cupcakes with shoulders, which should be eaten first to make memories.) Most of all, I miss them watching me turn middle-aged, watch my kids grow. Nourish as only those women can. Look out for you. Celebrate the joys. People to share the best and the worst with. Do not save that knife in a drawer, in a knife block. Use it with all of the joy that your mother lavished on you. The mom in me knows.

Now, fifi, really. Power tools. All the way. I ask for them, and receive them, as gifts from my beloved. My chainsaw is probably my favorite. Paul has learned that I am of the JFDI school (just f****** do it). He no longer walks in the house and goes Oh, Shit when he sees something done past the point of no return. Good sport that he is, he just rolls up his sleeves, and starts the Menards (or Home Depot or Ace) list.

It was an interesting day. My first time smoking butts in cool, raining weather. Let me backtrack. We are going to a farm in southern MN tomorrow to go pheasant hunting. I am in charge of something to eat, in the meat domain. Butt has been cheap, so it seemed the right thing to do. I got the kids on the bus. The day was cloudy, but not rainy, so I got the chimney started. But those butts on. It started raining. Drizzling, acutally. The high today was barely 40. I started smoking at 10:00 am, so it was just Old Golds and really strong coffee. A bit early, on a school day, to start off with beer. That sure makes temp control on the Weber Kettle easy. Instead of boring you all with photos of the butts in progress, here is the finished product. (before pulling; I always forget to take a photo of the pulled finished product. I smell like smoke. My clothes smell like smoke. My husband thinks it smells good. Needless to say, we had butt for dinner, with coleslaw, and =Marks vinegar mustard sause on sqishy white bread just as soon as Diana's last volleyball game (they lost) of the season was done. We will have butt again tomorrow (gently reheated in the oven at The Farm, moistened with smoked pork stock). I have learned to not smoke one, but two butts at a time. Takes the same amount of charcoal, wood, and time. The kids, Paul and I all fight over the crispy parts. My butts are wonderful.

Had to laugh. What my family said was "I suppose you're going to tell us we can't eat until you've taken a photo?" For a couple of meals, the vultures were less than amused. Yes, Rachel, trust your instincts. You know your instincts. You have no clue about the instincts of someone you've never dined with or, for that matter, met.

When we moved into our former house (18 years before we sold it), a friend gave me, as a housewarming gift, a cross stitched thing that says "No matter where I serve my guests, they seem to like my kitchen best." Sort of says it all, doesn't it? So, Dave, have you torn down the suspended ceiling yet or do I need to come down some morning after I have the kids on the bus to do it for you?

Been thinking a lot about your kitchen. I redid one on the cheap (huge difference) not 18 months before we sold the old house. Anyway, I see your desire for a stove. But, when I think about a kitchen, so much more happens in a kitchen than just the stove. One can learn to deal with a stove. In my former house, it was an old electric (prior to the reno). Use two burner; one high, one medium, one medium, one low, whatever. The kitchen, at least in my mind, is more about the place to be. The place to chop. The place to do homework, mull over life's problems, kiss kids' wounds, ponder meals to be eaten. I would not have immediately replaced the stove in this new house had more than one burner worked, and had the oven got to temp (350) faster than the 1.5 hours it did. I know what I'd do, but I'm impetuous, and inclined, as I stated before, to take projects to the point of no return without thinking. I'd take care of that ceiling. So, you have holes in the ceiling? Shove some drywall compound in them and paint it (paint is the cheapest fix possible). Go to several kitchen places and fondle counters. Fifi likes laminate. Andiesenji likes butcher block. I love my granite. Pretend you are working with these counters. What speaks to you? How long will you live in this house? For me, the next time I move, it will be in a body box, so I have gone for just what I want. Lots of living and loving goes on in that kitchen/dining room area here. Just what do you want the place you sit and have morning coffee and read the paper to FEEL like? My husband just bought me a paint sprayer (to attach to my very big compressor). The glitter (and decade of cigarette smoke on all of the ceilings in this house) will soon be a thing of the past.

For the past 20 plus years, I have had that fantasy birthday. At The Cabin, usually complete with skinny dipping with my honey under the northern lights. Doesn't get any better than this. Quiet, only punctuated by the hooting of owls or the loons. A star and northern light display to astound. Silky water to sooth the skin. Ahhh.

Counters. Nix on the laminate. It chips, discolors, and gets really sticky. I have had a combo of laminate and butcher block, and liked the butcher block. But, I really love my new granite counters. I didn't have much counter space in this new kitchen, and walked out of the old house with a lot of cash, and the new house was a deal. Ceiling. The low ceiling clearly bugs you. You have mentioned it several times. It doesn't look quite so low in the photos until you see a door. If I were your wife, I would have already taken that thing past the point of no return. Mayhaw Man would have probably done the same thing! Sure, I have a plan. A higher ceiling! The potential pitfall with this is that the cupboards go to the current ceiling. Perhaps there are soffits there? One of the coolest things we did in our former house's kitchen was put in a couple of ceiling fans (the ventilation and circulation was well worth it). What was especially cool about these ceiling fans is that they had both up and down lighting. Downlighting was great for tasks, uplighting great for ambiance, and with the two together, wow. Seriously, think about a higher ceiling before you do more. It would dramatically change the look of the kitchen. (And, yes, I did think about this, this morning, as I got up at 3:00 am to check on Heidi, and noticed how much I hate our sprayed ceilings which are complete with glitter).

You'll note I'm only "slightly" more organized. Those scraps of paper go right into the recipe box (which barely closes). My kids did not have baby books. THey had baby boxes, also filled with little scraps of paper.

While I can't say I have a kitchen "notebook", I have something similar. A few years ago, my mother gave me the recipe box she got from her mother, who got it from her great grandmother. There are not a lot of recipes, but there are a lot of cards indicating what was eaten on which special occasion. For many years, we lived in Thailand, and my mother did a lot of entertaining. As was the above-mentioned tradition, after every party, my mother noted, on a recipe care, who attended, how much and what she served. I now do the same. I have an undercabinet mounted recipe box (very deep) that is ugly harvest gold. I'm going to need another one soon, and have no idea where to get one. I love having this record. Not to mention that the cards at the front of the recipe box are written in that spiderly, fountain pen ink of my grandmother and great grandmother. Less recipes than guidelines. I should also add that whenever I cook from a cookbook, I mark it up. What worked, what didn't. Make it again or not. Add more of this or that. If you were to inherit one of my cookbooks, you would know what I had tried and what I would think of said dish. I have thought about the notebook idea since you mentioned it, Laurie, but realize that unless I hid it so well I couldn't find it, it would be fodder for phone messages, "remember to get light bulb" messages for the other occupants of this domicile. Edited to add: Between EG and that calendar on the wall at The Cabin I manage to keep a far better record of what we eat with who Up There.

So, as I puttered and pattered around the house today, I wondered just why Dave has a dropped ceiling in his kitchen. Appears I'm not the only one who was wondering such thoughts. So, have you removed some panels and poked and prodded to see if this drop ceiling can be removed? Shit. Home Depot here had true lipstick red knobs clearanced for $.10/knob a few weeks ago. When I quit puttering and paddering around the house, went to yoga, and stopped at Home Depot today (for roundup), they were gone. Sigh. I'm still hopeful that I will, one of these days, happen on a treasure like your new floor, which I really need.

So, what we did: We took these boneless breasts (I had them in the freezer because a houseguest showed up with them; I had smoked a butt, so we didn't eat them). Peter pulled them out of the freezer and put them in the fridge to thaw. When thawed, we pulled the tenderloin parts off and put them in the fridge to use for curry (we will add some thighs) for curry tomorrow night. He and I decided that I should make pockets. We did not butterfly them, I just stuck a boning knife (a really thin, easily sharpened (a J. Marttiini boning knife in a leather sheaf, to be exact) in the wide part of the breast and worked it around so that the pocket inside was bigger than the "hole." I cleaned out the fridge. I had a mess of spinach (really good because of the long cool summer). A bit of ricotta. Some feta. So, some got feta/spinach, some ricotta/spinach. Plus some basil (last of mine). Blanched the spinach. So, half were ricotta, half feta. We all shared halves. Half of us liked ricotta better, the other half feta. But, I get ahead of myself. We did another half and half thing. Half of them dredged in flour, then egged, then bread crumbed (acme sourdough with some garlic, s & P). The other half just bread crumbed. The former was far messier, but far more fun if you are 8 and aren't the one mopping the kitchen floor. Browned in a skillet, finished in the same skillet in the oven. Verdict on the breading thing? Not much difference, in our minds. Skip the flour/egg thing because it is less to clean up. Served with broccoli that I put in a skillet with some really hot olive oil. Browned bits, then added some chix stock, shallots, garlic, chili flakes. And, quinoa. I sauteed some minced apples. Removed from pan. Browned some more shallots (they are really cheap here in Asian markets; like $.59/lb) added the quinoa, toasted it (could have gone longer on this), added some chix stock. When done, added back in the apples (I chopped two of them, but Peter and I ate some of them) and then I remembered that handful of cashews, so scrunched them in my hand and added them. Pretty darned good. The chicken was good. Not as good as a thigh. Glad I brined those breasts. Peter was proud of himself. He helped mop up all of the egg gunk off the floor. Cooking with an 8 year old is a bit messier, but far more rewarding than cooking alone.

I am thankful that the only place they ranked in the Twin Cities was a place that I would never stoop to enter (Leeann Chin). So, for me, that means that the lines at the really good places will not get any longer. (The only Twin Cities entry is well known as the fast food of the Chinese here).

Great minds think almost alike. Toasted Acme sourdough, smeared with Malle Dijon and liverwurst. Mine was easier and faster to assemble.

Either a maid or a self-cleaning floor. Very finely minced cilantro is a bitch to mop up.

fifi, shoulder was on sale for $.79 at my market. Needless to say, after doing some "big" cutting sometime in the next few days, I'm going to do some ignoring. Yes, I do think, the more that I ponder it, that one really needs to ignore them in order to get those crisp cubes.