eG Foodblog: balmagowry - Back to the future....

[mongo_jones]

why do i get the sense that this foodblog business is pretty hard work?

[balmagowry]

So what is the state of the food scene in Babylon? I remember the Seafood places in Bayshore Captain Bill's and Gil Clarks also Flynns. Don't remember any places in Babylon or West Islip except that place at the end of Higbee Ln.

Captain Bill's and Gil Clark's are still there, right by the Fire Island Ferry; went to a party at the former a couple of years back and it wasn't bad at all. Not sure about Flynn's but I think so.

Place at end of Higbie Lane was a pizza/deli sort of joint when I moved here; it's gone now. Burned down a couple of years back.

In Babylon - well, that's what today's picture-taking was all about, but for a quick & dirty rundown, there's the Clam & Oyster Bar opposite Southard's Corner (and I think Dave Southard is still alive and doing business!), owned by the same people who own Pier 44 down nead the end of Fire Island Ave. Down in that area there are a couple of other places - Mario's High-Hook is still around, as is the Clam Shack and that other place whose name I don't remember (I'm going down there tomorrow to refresh my memory). On the point overlooking the mouth of the creek is a monstrous place called John Anthony's, site of many a prom and wedding festivity and countless weekend brunches (if I only had a buck for every time someone has come down Fire Island Ave, made the zig but missed the zag, and ended up in front of my house asking, "which way to John Anthony's?" - I'd be a rich woman by now). I think Pier 44 is pretty much the best of the bunch, though the Clam Shack ain't half bad. Pier 44 was definitely the best of the batch a few years ago, when it used to run an after-hours lobster special - if you came in after 10 you could get two lobsters (a good pound plus each) for 10 bucks!

Slightly more upscale is Ali Ocean, on Deer Park Ave. More on this when I get pictures up....

Oh - and there are also a couple of pretty good fishy places on Montauk Ave in Lindenhurst.

Edited April 29, 2004 by balmagowry (log)

[balmagowry]

why do i get the sense that this foodblog business is pretty hard work?

Why, no, Mongo dear, what makes you think that? it's just a walk in the park, la-di-da, dum-de-dum-dum, the merest little bagatelle, could do half a dozen of 'em before breakfast... RIGHT, FELLOW BLOGGERS?

EDIT to add: Piece of cake.

EDIT AGAIN to add: Nothin' to it.

EDIT YET AGAIN to add: Convinced yet?

Edited April 29, 2004 by balmagowry (log)

[Pan]

Sorry about the smoke and mess in the kitchen, but it sure could have been a lot worse, and the most important thing is that there was no serious fire!

Sounds like you were very understanding, but methinks your boyfriend owes you a nice meal out or something.

[balmagowry]

Sorry about the smoke and mess in the kitchen, but it sure could have been a lot worse, and the most important thing is that there was no serious fire!

True enough, and the mess was really not all that bad compared to some I've seen (or made!) - it was only insidiously recidivist.

Sounds like you were very understanding, but methinks your boyfriend owes you a nice meal out or something. 

Hmmm. Maybe I need to learn to think more like you. Here I was so busy being relieved it wasn't worse, it never occurred to me to think of it that way. Well, he was ready to run out and replace the microwave immediately - and when it began to look like that wouldn't be necessary he did a damn good job of cleaning it. You know, I really hate to sound like a goody-goody - you've no idea how I hate it! - but the fact is, he's a through-thick-and-thin kind of guy (and believe me, I've put him through a lot of both!); he has salvaged my sanity on more than one occasion, and he already does pretty well by me in the nice-meal-out department. Nope, I can't in conscience say he owes me. Damn. Guess I need to work on my gold-digger schtick.

[tejon]

I'm enjoying this blog immensely. Nice to pick up in bits as it unfolds, like catching just enough pages of a favorite book to sate until the next reading.

Now I'll admit to doing the same to a mug years ago. My defense - it was 3:00 am in a graveyard shift. Not that I wouldn't necessarily do the same fully awake, but at least I can protest that I was sleep deprived at the time.

Edited April 29, 2004 by tejon (log)

[Pan]

You know, I really hate to sound like a goody-goody - you've no idea how I hate it! - but the fact is, he's a through-thick-and-thin kind of guy (and believe me, I've put him through a lot of both!); he has salvaged my sanity on more than one occasion, and he already does pretty well by me in the nice-meal-out department. Nope, I can't in conscience say he owes me. Damn. Guess I need to work on my gold-digger schtick.

I have a very broad smile on my face. You really are a mensch.

[balmagowry]

Nah. But I play one on TV.

[Rebel Rose]

Lisa, I ordered your book on Amazon today and I'm looking forward to reading it!

Could you take a moment to tell us about the recipe testing? What was the most godawful/disastrous recipe to recreate?

[Anna N]

Lisa - what I most love about your blog is that it's real - it shows real food in real kitchen - that is food that has been forgotten in the fridge and yet must still be used rather than wasted!

When it came time to select a new fridge I rejected one with clear crisper drawers wondering why I would want to watch my beautiful produce slowly deteriorate because the best laid plans.... Now, I wish I had gone for those and perhaps things would not disappear into that black hole!

[johnnyd]

Could you take a moment to tell us about the recipe testing? What was the most godawful/disastrous recipe to recreate?

Lisa offered a link to her book site that, if you scroll down to "food" on the left, features a few pix of those recipes and a beach party featuring her and her mom. I especially liked "Divers other comestibles". Check it out!

[Lady T]

why do i get the sense that this foodblog business is pretty hard work?

Why, no, Mongo dear, what makes you think that? it's just a walk in the park, la-di-da, dum-de-dum-dum, the merest little bagatelle, could do half a dozen of 'em before breakfast... RIGHT, FELLOW BLOGGERS?

EDIT to add: Piece of cake.

EDIT AGAIN to add: Nothin' to it.

EDIT YET AGAIN to add: Convinced yet?

Be very careful, Mongo. I do believe B is thinking about where she should pass the Blogger Torch.

[balmagowry]

Good morning.

Oh that Boy - sometimes I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Quite often I do both.

Last night, as usual, somehow it got to be well after 3:00 AM before I really, actually crashed. The Boy had said "you go ahead up - I'll clean up here" and of course I was delighted to comply. But I know that The Boy can be even more absent-minded than I when he gets caught up in something or distracted - or when he's in a hurry, as frequently occurs because he's been absent-minded or caught up in something or distracted. So I actually reminded him of his offer, and I could tell from the answering grunt that he'd forgotten all about it. Of course he said he'd do it. Of course I figured it was a toss-up at best.

He had to leave early this morning for an appointment in town (early, by our standards, being in this case something like 10:30ish), so he was gone by the time I dragged myself forth to "do the ozone act for Lovey" and deal with other critter matters. Coming into the kitchen then for my coffee, I had to gasp. As good as or better than his word, he really had cleaned the place to within an inch of its life; dishwasher emptied and re-filled, pots washed, ingredients and debris taken care of. He sometimes does this sort of job in such a narrow-focused and compartmentalized way that he will make the counters into a sea of shining perfection and simply not notice the greasy pots on the stove. (There's another quotation lurking in my brain for this, something from L.P. Hartley, but I'll have to look it up to get it right.) Not this time. I am so delighted that I don't even give a damn that he didn't take out the garbage. Luke hasn't had a chance to get near it yet, so no harm done.

Then I go to the newly pristine microwave to heat up my milk. "What's... that... SMELL," I don't have to ask, because this time I know. Stop microwave. Take out milk. Get step-stool, knowing full well that this must be the one "step" The Boy didn't take when he cleaned it out yesterday.

Sure enough:

See, even if you're taller than I am, you can't see the floor of the microwave if you're standing on the floor of the kitchen. Of course, you could logically assume that yesterday's episode would leave a trace like this, but you know that The Boy got distracted by something and therefore took what he saw at face value. Out of sight, out of mind. There are times - like when it gets in my way and I'm in a hurry - when I find this incredibly frustrating. Today is not one of those times; today I find it endearing. That is what it is to live with a Mad Scientist.

Before anything else I must do my duty by the Gullet; I run upstairs, download last night's pictures (I like to start each day with a clean slate in that respect if no other), come back down and immortalize the spectacle for posterity.

The mortal remains of the charred paper towel are of course plastered in place - it will take more than a mere scrubbing to remove them. For starters I wet them down and leave them to stew in their own disgusting juices. I hope I, ahem, remember to attend to them later.

By now I want my coffee too much to wait any longer, so I ain't gonna bother getting out a pan to heat the millk. For once, slightly lukewarm milk in my coffee won't do me any harm. I compensate myself with a healthy slug of Coffee Syrup. Whew.

[balmagowry]

Lisa, I ordered your book on Amazon today and I'm looking forward to reading it!

Cool! I'm so glad. (As the wolf moves 1/4" farther from the door....) I do hope you enjoy it.

Could you take a moment to tell us about the recipe testing?  What was the most godawful/disastrous recipe to recreate?

Ah - another wonderful straight-man!

Actually, as I may have confessed before, when I started this blog I foolishly thought I'd be spending most of the week telling such tales - whereas it turns out I'll barely have time to churn out my real-time experiences. Well, as JohnnyD says, there's a certain amount of stuff on the Norton web page; before I do a real production on the subject here I will have to go back and look at what's there. For a while there we were doing a sort of Illustrated Recipe of the Month thing as a pre-publication teaser, and I think those are all still up.

Of course I've promised you Floating Archipelago, and Floating Archipelago you shall have - but it may have to wait and become a separate thread, post-blog. I'd also love to do a spread on Raising a Coffin, as this is something of a lost art.

Most godawful/disastrous? Well, those things come under several different categories and in several distinct shades of disastrous. At the mild end of the spectrum would be our first attempt at Warden Pie, in which, as Lord Peter would put it, we committed the fatal error of theorizing ahead of our data. A very mild error, as the result was perfectly delicious - the only problem, as we realized once we'd researched it more thoroughly, was that it was quite inauthentic.

Disgusting: well, Boiled Shit, to begin with. That was the one thing we couldn't bring ourselves even to taste, not even in the name of research. I was determined to, but once we'd made it (and we did make it!) the smell was so much worse than I expected that I just had to back down.

A close second, in the preparation: Haggis. My oft-repeated wisdom on that subject: those who have made haggis will never willingly eat it; those who willingly eat it have obviously never made it. Now I realize there's a whole culture and history out there ready to prove me wrong; don't these people recognize an epigram when they see one? The point is, the sights and sounds and smells of haggis in progress are as disturbingly fascinating as they are revolting. I'm glad I did it - once. Took me three days to fumigate the house afterward.

There were the Little Balls of Tripe - sorry, but tripe just does not do it for me.

Then there's the cultural leap of faith involved in making Millers in Onion Sauce. Millers, for the uninitiated, is a period nautical term for rats. Can't call that a disaster, though - it had its surreal moments, but it was a big success.

There was one raised pie where we tried to vary the pastry formula - can't remember exactly how or why (though I'm sure I have detailed notes in the file) - and the whole thing simply melted down and collapsed in the oven. Damn, I hate wasting stuff. But on that occasion I was awfully glad that for insurance's sake we baked our pies with a paella pan or a roasting pan under them instead of just placing them on a baking sheet. At least we didn't commit mayhem on my oven!

There was the Digesting Machine Disaster.

There was the unutterable (and vocabulary-enhancing) B-movie effect of the pulsating Sago Pudding in the toilet. Anyone remember "Donovan's Brain"?

There was the Haunting Tale of the Black and White Puddings.

There was that pig's skull.

Stories... yeah, I've got a few.

[balmagowry]

Lisa - what I most love about your blog is that it's real - it shows real food in real kitchen - that is food that has been forgotten in the fridge and yet must still be used rather than wasted! 

Thank you. But, um, isn't that how it's supposed to be? Early on I felt bad that I hadn't read all the other blogs, but now I'm starting to think it's a good thing to have come to this one with so few pre-conceived notions. Lucy's - one hell of an act to follow - is still the only one I've actually read, and though I can't match its lyricism I can't do less than emulate its honesty and openness. I just assumed that the blog was supposed to reflect one's real food-life, warts and all. And real life for most of us often centers around creative use of leftovers, doesn't it? Even at that, this blog makes my cooking life look more organized than it's been lately. I used to cook this often, and I hope to get back to that, but it hasn't been my typical pattern for the past - oh, couple of years, I'd have to say.

Why? Well, this goes back to the generally chaotic quality of my life, as discussed in my introductory post. I said I'd say more about that, and this seems to be a natural segue into it, so here goes. Not just real food and real kitchen (though mind you, I am in fact doing some editing, and not showing you the worst horrors there...) - real person, too.

<possibly embarrassing personal stuff>

An incredible amount of upheaval. I've already posted about my mother's death, and that of course is the biggie; that, and its many aftermaths, and the many months of hope and fear and exertion leading up to it. And the subsequent utter denial which still frequently - emphatically - surfaces in my dreams.

But there's also been a lot of insult added to that injury. A long string of deaths, starting with a cousin a couple of years earlier; then a close dear friend, only a few months before my mother; then, beginning only three weeks later, a bewildering and relentless succession of relatives, friends, pivotal acquaintances, dear animals. I counted 'em up recently: not including the cousin mentioned above, the tally comes to 15 in the past two years. Wait - make that 16 - another old friend died last month. Add to all that my divorce (a supremely Good Thing in itself, but both it and the 15-year marriage it terminated left considerable trauma in their wake), some health problems, and various professional contretemps - not in my writing world, I hasten to add, but in the ones I am doing my best to put behind me - bear in mind also that before this run of crappiness began I was in many ways on top of the world, more so than I'd ever been before; and what do you get?

A mess, that's what. Not to put too fine a point on it, I've been depressed. Clinically, I mean, but clearly not in a vacuum either: it ain't exactly a coincidence. And at a certain point I ran out of steam for playing the hero for everyone else, and then it all went kaflooey.

The worst of that is long past, but it turns out that coming back to life is also a messy, hairy, and unpredictable process. All in all, a lot of stuff has been allowed to go to hell. And now I'm having to clean it up, and it's taking time. And ertia, which I don't have a lot of. Yet.

So anyway. Here I am. Living with The Boy is in itself a factor, because The Boy is a chaotic system - he's also naturally nocturnal, always has been. Then for a number of reasons I stopped commuting, which I had been doing about three days a week - and that sent any vestige of structure out the window. (And children NEED structure, rules, boundaries... right?) Of course one of the well-known aspects of depression is sleep-dep, or at any rate erratic sleep patterns. So you can see where under the circumstances any semblance of normalcy in my schedule and habits just didn't stand a chance!

Get through the day, get through the week. Meet the essential deadlines (IRS, mortgage, etc.). Eat some. Sleep some. Don't be so hard on yourself. Don't expect too much. Do what's achievable and congratulate yourself for it. It finally got kind of twelve-steppish: one day, and one miracle, at a time.

Prime directive: retain sense of humor.

So there you have it: for the past year or two I haven't been cooking every day and baking every week!

</possibly embarrassing personal stuff>

When it came time to select a new fridge I rejected one with clear crisper drawers wondering why I would want to watch my beautiful produce slowly deteriorate because the best laid plans.... Now, I wish I had gone for those and perhaps things would not disappear into that black hole!

Don't I know it! I haven't had the excuse to select a new fridge yet, but mine has exactly that problem (and it occurs to me that the main one in Gilgo doesn't). There is one drawer I try not to open too often. IOW, at all, if I can help it....

Edited April 30, 2004 by balmagowry (log)

[balmagowry]

why do i get the sense that this foodblog business is pretty hard work?

Why, no, Mongo dear, what makes you think that? it's just a walk in the park, la-di-da, dum-de-dum-dum, the merest little bagatelle, could do half a dozen of 'em before breakfast... RIGHT, FELLOW BLOGGERS?

EDIT to add: Piece of cake.

EDIT AGAIN to add: Nothin' to it.

EDIT YET AGAIN to add: Convinced yet?

Be very careful, Mongo. I do believe B is thinking about where she should pass the Blogger Torch.

Why, my dear Lady T, what ever could have given you such an idea?

BTW, though, I may as well mention now: after some discussion with the Powers that Be, we are going to fudge the transition into the next blog over the weekend, so as to get the whole business back on its normal schedule; the next vict... uh, blogger will take over on Sunday. Ulterior motive in suggesting it, me? Absolutely - it's the only way I stand a chance of catching up with the back-blog of stuff I still need to post!

[mongo_jones]

why do i get the sense that this foodblog business is pretty hard work?

Why, no, Mongo dear, what makes you think that? it's just a walk in the park, la-di-da, dum-de-dum-dum, the merest little bagatelle, could do half a dozen of 'em before breakfast... RIGHT, FELLOW BLOGGERS?

EDIT to add: Piece of cake.

EDIT AGAIN to add: Nothin' to it.

EDIT YET AGAIN to add: Convinced yet?

Be very careful, Mongo. I do believe B is thinking about where she should pass the Blogger Torch.

that would be a silly mistake indeed, and one our current blogger is too smart to make.

[ruthcooks]

I think I missed something. What/where is Gilgo and "the main one in Gilgo" and why do your paring knife and better refrigerator reside there?

If this has been explained, sign me Senior Moments or Attentive Deficit...

[balmagowry]

why do i get the sense that this foodblog business is pretty hard work?

Why, no, Mongo dear, what makes you think that? it's just a walk in the park, la-di-da, dum-de-dum-dum, the merest little bagatelle, could do half a dozen of 'em before breakfast... RIGHT, FELLOW BLOGGERS?

EDIT to add: Piece of cake.

EDIT AGAIN to add: Nothin' to it.

EDIT YET AGAIN to add: Convinced yet?

Be very careful, Mongo. I do believe B is thinking about where she should pass the Blogger Torch.

that would be a silly mistake indeed, and one our current blogger is too smart to make.

Thank you, Mongo... I think.

Seriously, though, no matter whom I may have in my sights for the next stint, I'm sure you can understand that I might not want to scare them away.

How well I remember the barrage of I-Feel-Sorry-For-The-Next-Blogger during the latter stages of Lucy's blog...!

[balmagowry]

I think I missed something.  What/where is Gilgo and "the main one in Gilgo" and why do your paring knife and better refrigerator reside there?

If this has been explained, sign me Senior Moments or Attentive Deficit...

I think I explained all this toward the beginning, but in case I didn't (I'm ADD myself, so sympathize with anyone else who acknowledges same even if in jest), Gilgo is short for West Gilgo Beach, the place on the barrier beach of Long Island where my family's Ancestral Cottage stands. Though, weirdly, it is in fact mine now, I haven't yet kicked my father out of it (joke, Daddy, if you're reading this, funny ha ha!), so I don't live there, but across the bay in Babylon. My paring knife lives with me, but its twin still graces the kitchen in Gilgo, where I often use it. As for "the main one" - thank you for reminding me that I've been meaning to talk about this, though I don't have time right at this moment; the short version is that Gilgo, being some 20 minutes' drive from the nearest store, is a place where auxiliary freezers and refrigerators are as common as... as... oh damn, why can't I think of a stupid simile? Because I'm in a hurry, that's why. Anyway, in our house there we have one fridge in the kitchen (the "main one") and two more belowdecks in the basement, plus a big freezer. More later on that subject, and water to cover, and stocking up for living in a remote area. Gotta fly -

Edited April 30, 2004 by balmagowry (log)

[phaelon56]

Get through the day, get through the week. Meet the essential deadlines (IRS, mortgage, etc.). Eat some. Sleep some. Don't be so hard on yourself. Don't expect too much. Do what's achievable and congratulate yourself for it. It finally got kind of twelve-steppish: one day, and one miracle, at a time.

This.... is a plan that really works. It may be a cliche but "keep it simple" has been saving my butt for awhile now....

[balmagowry]

Get through the day, get through the week. Meet the essential deadlines (IRS, mortgage, etc.). Eat some. Sleep some. Don't be so hard on yourself. Don't expect too much. Do what's achievable and congratulate yourself for it. It finally got kind of twelve-steppish: one day, and one miracle, at a time.

This.... is a plan that really works. It may be a cliche but "keep it simple" has been saving my butt for awhile now....

You think that works - wait'll I tell you about The System. I've refined and formalized it down to an art form(ula) - thinking maybe I should hold off on this food-writing racket until after I throw together a best-selling self-help book.

[ms. victoria]

Reading that about your mom and others in your life dying so closely together hit very near to home. Not so many, but my father, my great uncle and my aunt all died within in a year of each other then my mom had to have heart surgery. It's an alien terrain when you feel like death is doing a sun dance around you. I think your prime directive sums up the best coping strategy I found as well. I know the only way my sibs and I got through the day of my mother's surgery was (occasionally dark) humor.

Thanks for sharing the potentially embarrassing personal stuff, too; it is making this a rich and varied account and seriously good read.

[balmagowry]

Hokay, kiddlies, gather round; the sun is over the yardarm, and it's story time. Nize baby, itt anodder spoon oatmill, and Momma'll gonna tall you a sturry from de tcheeken what flooded.

This is related to, and triggered by, the Absurdly Stupidly Simple Questions thread, but it also connects to the testing kitchen in a way - so I'll tell it here and link to it there.

Wance oppona time....

Anyway, when you've been in my family even a tenth as long as I have (literally: ask The Boy and he'll corroborate), one of the things you'll have heard a lot of are childhood stories about Cookie (my mother) and her naughty brother Blair. Blair, three years Cookie's senior, was the leader in everything, and where he led, the adoring Cookie followed, whether the adventure at hand was within the scope of her abilities or not.

One day when Blair was about 12 and Cookie about 9, Blair decided that they had to run away from home. Actually, they were running from home to home. Home was on the Upper West Side in NYC; country house was in Ridgefield, CT. If memory serves, on this occasion Blair felt hard done by because the family was staying in town for Thanksgiving instead of going to Ridgefield, so he decided that he and Cookie were going to spend their Thanksgiving in Ridgefield anyway.

It's a little unclear to me how they managed this, but somehow they got themselves on and off a train and as far as the village. The house was on a dirt road some 10 miles outside Ridgefield itself, but fortunately they met up with a neighbor who offered them a ride. On the way Cookie mentioned that Blair had a cold and that she wanted to make him some chicken soup. On finding that she had nothing but good-will to work with, the accommodating neighbor proceeded to lend them a chicken, a package of frozen vegetables, and some instruction: Put these in a pot with water to cover, bring to a boil, simmer a couple of hours, and you'll have soup.

Blair and Cookie let themselves into the house and Cookie went straight to the kitchen, where she took the biggest pot she could find and proceeded to follow orders. Chicken in pot; check. Vegetables in pot; check. Water to cover; not so easy. No matter how much water she put in, it didn't seem to be enough to cover that chicken. You never saw such a chicken - it kept floating to the top. The more water she put in, the higher floated that chicken. She kept adding water; the chicken kept floating. Finally the pot was almost full, and the chicken still wasn't covered. Not knowing what else to do, she lit a fire under it and waited for it to come to the boil. It took a long, long time. And then there were the couple hours' simmering. All in all, it was pretty late before the two of them sat down to the wateriest chicken soup either of them had ever had.

I think it was in the morning that their parents arrived, on wings of fear and fury. (NB I believe the neighbor had contacted and reassured them the previous afternoon, so the fury had by now had ample opportunity to trump the fear.) Dire consequences flashed from their every feature as they confronted their idiot offspring. Chotzie (my grandfather) took Blair aside and no doubt proceeded to apply his best arguments where they would do most good; Cookie meanwhile led Pauline into the kitchen, there to attempt an explanation. My grandmother, to her eternal credit, took one look at that poor little chicken floating atop all those GALLONS of watery broth, and simply dissolved into howls of laughter, all anger forgotten in the ludicrousness of the spectacle.

Chotzie too saw the joke, of course. Being a man of principle, however, he reluctantly insisted that it was still necessary to administer some memorable punishment.

I don't know what Blair's punishment was - he was so perpetually in trouble that it seems to have melded into the greater mass of remembered injustices. Cookie, however, who always fell for his bright ideas and always took the consequences, was deprived of her opera privileges for the following week. I must explain that my grandfather, being a music critic, had press passes for every important musical event in town; and Saturday matinees at the Met were Cookie's special perq in those days, especially since the evening performances all started after her bedtime.

So she missed seeing "Norma" - then and until the end of her life. Never saw it. Not ever.

Meanwhile, cut to some 57 years later. Cookie and I have just published L&SD and are on a tour of signings/tastings which will take us to Chicago, among other places, there to meet for the first time several O'Brian fans who have already become dear friends via - what else? - the Internet; in this case the O'Brian listserv. We are staying with one of them and he is throwing a sort of period pot-luck party in our honor - we, of course, are making the eponymous Spotted Dog and the rosewater-perfumed Creme Anglaise which is its inevitable accompaniment.

One of the guests, a most distinguished lawyer in his 60s, arrives with a highly impressive Plum Duff - the more impressive in that he is not an experienced cook and has boldly made the attempt after one reading of L&SD, probably the first cookbook he has ever even opened. Later in the evening, he takes me discreetly aside, and somewhat diffidently tells me that he thinks there is a small mistake in our recipe. "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but thought you might want to know about it for future editions. You said 'water to cover,'" he says, "and I guess maybe by the time you wrote the recipe down you didn't remember from your testing that water doesn't cover it... because it floats." By this point, of course, all of poor dear John's discretion and delicacy have gone right out the window because, like my grandmother before me, I am simply HOWLING with helpless laughter. It is a long time before I can control it enough even to let my mother in on the joke; of course all I have to say is "water to cover" and the howling starts again, both of us this time. At last we pull ourselves together enough to tell the assembled multitude the story of the chicken and "Norma." More howling ensues. Loudest howling of all from John - at himself. As if he could have been expected to be familiar with such a term!

And that is how "water to cover" became a favorite standing joke in our circles.

Ooooh such a dollink baby, et up all de oatmill!

Edited April 30, 2004 by balmagowry (log)

[balmagowry]

Reading that about your mom and others in your life dying so closely together hit very near to home. Not so many, but my father, my great uncle and my aunt all died within in a year of each other then my mom had to have heart surgery. It's an alien terrain when you feel like death is doing a sun dance around you. I think your prime directive sums up the best coping strategy I found as well. I know the only way my sibs and I got through the day of my mother's surgery was (occasionally dark) humor.

Thank you! (OMG, was that the winter you found L&SD in the library? If so - I'm honored.)

A few months ago I went to sit shiva with a very dear friend whose sister (one of the 16) had died after a long and draining illness. He told us that on the day she died the whole family was sitting around the dinner table doing the kind of perpetual figuring-stuff-out that people inevitably have to do when something like that is happening. The phone rang. The sister's daughter went to answer it. They could all hear her end of the conversation. "Oh, hi. Thanks. Yeah... no, actually, she's been better; she's not doing so great at all; in fact... she's dead." By the time she came back into the room the matter-of-fact absurdity of that bit of dialogue had hit them all, and they all burst into big belly laughter. Funny (heh heh) how something like that will dissipate tension. Surreal? So what! Life is.

Thanks for sharing the potentially embarrassing personal stuff, too; it is making this a rich and varied account and seriously good read.

Hey - full disclosure, warts and all. I trust it will be clear that the only reason I set that section aside as such is so that those who Don't Want to Go There (if any such there be) could avoid having it inflicted on them.