Now this is all my own recipe, cobbled together because I had some corn on the cob that needed using, and 1/2 a red pepper and some cilantro fixin’ to wilt. Served up in yellow corn taco shells with a special sauce taught to me by my friend Janet. Did I take pictures? No! Of course not!
Chicken filling:
4 chicken breasts, cut up into bite sized pieces
2 teaspoons garlic powder
2 teaspoons onion powder
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon toasted ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground chipotle powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
Toss the chicken chunks with the seasonings, and brown nicely in an oiled skillet. I do this in batches so the chicken gets a nice crust. If you do it all at one time the chicken will cook ok, but will kind of steam in it’s own juices instead of getting crusty. Crusty is good.
Corn relish:
4 ears of roasted corn, cut off the cob
1/2 red bell pepper, cut into corn niblet sized chunks
3 scallions, chopped
a good handful of cilantro, chopped
1/4 cup lime juice
1 tablespoon green tabasco sauce
salt and pepper to taste
Toss everything together and let it sit an hour or so, stirring occasionally
Dressing:
1 cup of your favorite bottled salsa
1/2 cup light sour cream
1/2 cup light ranch dressing
Stir it all together and refrigerate
For the tacos:
I like those extra wide stand-up taco shells, but you can use whatever you like. Terry likes soft flour tortillas. your choice.
Put a layer of chicken in the bottom of the shell, top with corn relish, shredded cheese (I like the co-jack, cheddar is fine, or fiesta blend…whatever you like) and a dollop of the dressing. Yum!
I said in my last post, I love church, I love the liturgy and the comfort of familiar music, I even (believe it or not) kind of enjoy the whole getting ready process, making sure the clothes are clean and neat, having a meal ready to sit down to when we get home, all that.
What I don’t love is the perfume. In fact, after we got home, I started having trouble breathing. Coincidence? i don’t think so. I got a headache while at church, but ignored it, preferring to enjoy the music instead. but, I started coughing when I got home, couldn’t catch my breath, wheezing, tightness in my chest. Oh glory, I thought, remembering last time this happened I wound up a the Dr’s office with a prescription for a steroid inhaler and an admonition to take care because I was now labeled An Asthmatic. I don’t want to go there again. It only happens when I’ve had a cold,which I have, and some sort of trigger, which I had. If I didn’t have the cold, the perfume would have only given me a headache. If I didn’t have the perfume, the cold would have gone away on it’s own, but here I am ,fortified with a sermon and some great music, wheezing away like one of those old-timey pump organs from Ms. Effie’s parlor.
Maybe we need to move to Arizona. I don’t want to move there, but I am fond of breathing, kind of addicted to it, almost.
We went to church today. Yesterday, I made up my mind that we would, and we did. Just like that. Earlier in the week #4 asked me why we didn’t go to church, and I asked him if he wanted to, and he said “of course!”. Well, what do you say to that? Do you say “Hell no! We’re not going to church because I want you to be an unschooled heathen!” Or do you say “Church is for people too ignorant to figure out God for themselves.”? That would be incredibly condescending, wouldn’t it. This morning he asked if we could go to Sunday School. I told him one step at a time.
My issues with church isn’t religious. I like religion. I like the comfort and joy of corporate worship, of saying the Apostles Creed and Lord’s Prayer, of singing the Doxology with 100 other people and listening to the choir. I like the organ and piano, Children’s Church, and the 20 minute sermon (today is was about every member of the Body of Christ being important, like in the human body, the foot isn’t more important than the hand, or the eye more than the ear, and all the differences work together to make a functioning unit), and the long and complicated AAAAMmmmEN by the choir at the end. There’s comfort in familiar liturgy, and it really does bring me in toward a closer relationship with God and His people.
The problem I have with church is purely human. It’s the little niggly details. It’s the woman who sits right in front of me with enough perfume on to set off a pair of migraines in Terry and me, and to get #4 to wheezing. It’s the voluptuous young woman wearing what looks like her mother’s underslip as a dress, and she’s a foot taller than her mother so it barely covers her hoo-ha. (Actually didn’t see that today. The young women I saw today were dressed in a Rootie Approved Manner) There was, however, an abundance of perfume, and headaches, and thank goodness I took a crumb of xanax first because there was a wee attack of the nerves right at the start.
If I had a church, I’d put a notice in the bulletin and the weekly thing, asking people to refrain from wearing perfume to church, due to allergies in some of the congregation. There isn’t a safe place to sit. If you get there early enough, you can sort of pick a spot, maybe at the back so there’s no one behind you, or in the front so there’s no one ahead, but you can’t pick who’s near, and to get up and move is, well…kind of rude. And I am loathe to tap someone on the shoulder and say “I’m sorry, we’re moving because your perfume is going to put me in the hospital.” What REALLY sucks is when you get people in front, next to, and behind, all wearing perfume, none of which match.
My ideal sanctuary would be just that, A Sanctuary. A Safe Place. Made of boothes that hold a few people, with walls and plexiglass and maybe even each with it’s own HVAC system.
There are the contemporary churches, the ones that advertise that you can ‘come as you are’ in jeans, or whatever, and I wonder if the perfume issue would be less there. The problem is, I don’t like contemporary worship styles. I like the Old Liturgy. I don’t care for Power Point Presentations with the sermon, or some kind of visualisation software things with the music. I don’t need to be entertained when I’m at church. I need to WORSHIP. Without PERFUME. I want a traditional style service where I can wear jeans and a t-shirt, where we sing the old hymns and the old ladies don’t dunk themselves in White Shoulders as they step out of their cars. Is that too much to ask?
I realize there are people in the world who don’t feel dressed unless they have on makeup and perfume. I truly get that. I suppose I feel the same way, not feeling dressed unless I have on clothes. It’s just that perfume is more than clothes, it is an environmental interference to everyone around them. It does not make a person more attractive, or boost their boobs or change the shape of their legs the way high heels would do. It reaches out and grabs everyone around them by the neck, and gives a damn hard slap on the face. My philosophy on perfume is that one shouldn’t smell it unless one has one’s face right up in the neck or bosom of that person. It should be as a beautiful set of silk underwear, unknown to everyone around except the person it’s intended for. I feel that way about men’s and women’s perfume the same.
Filed under: food
I’ve said it before, I love a good sandwich. I want a carefully crafted, well thought out sandwich on good bread with tasty real meats and sauces. Today’s sandwich is a family favorite. It has rare red meat (MEEEEEEAT!) and a sharply flavored sauce with fresh garden greens and a fat sliced tomato. It doesn’t get much better than that.
Grilled beef sandwich with Red pepper sauce
1- 2-1/2 to 3 pound london broil
kosher salt and cracked pepper
Coat one side of the meat with the pepper and salt. Grill over medium high heat for 8 minutes, flip and grill for 8 minutes more, until medium rare. Let sit 15-20 minutes before slicing thin across the grain.
Roasted red pepper sauce
1 8 oz jar of roasted red peppers, drained
1 cup mayonnaise
6 oz gorgonzola cheese crumbles
2 scallions including greens
1 good handful parsley
salt and pepper to taste
Whiz it all up together in a food processor until pretty much smoothish.
Assemble the sandwiches on Kaiser rolls with sliced tomatoes and fresh greens (I like arugula but it’s a bit piquant for some folks. Spinach or lettuce is fine)
A couple of years ago I had my hip replaced. It took about 2 weeks of preparation, cooking,cleaning, getting everything ready almost like having a baby or something. Then there was the 10 week recovery with people in the house to help out and all. It was frustrating and gratifying all at the same time.
Now, Terry is looking at his second surgery on his arm. 6 weeks ago he broke it wrestling with CJ, and had to have plates installed to set it. Now, the primary ligament from someplace in his wrist has detached itself, and needs reattachment. Ligaments are difficult personalities. Unlike a bone, that you click back into place and screw a plate onto, 6 weeks later it’s fine, they are soft tissue, tender and persnickety. They are going to have to pin it into place and completely immobilize his arm for a solid 3 months. Ugh.
It’s funny tho, to me, from my perspective of having the hip replaced and all the hysteria surrounding it, this is different. I’m not stocking the freezer or arranging household help. All we’re really doing to prepare it is update his Netflix queu so he can keep occupied for the 5 days he’s required to stay home. He’ll have some help at work, for the 2 days he’s gone. He’s even implied that I’m going to drive him to work the day after his surgery so he can…I dunno…Do Something, be a presence so El Presidente and The Jackass won’t try and sabotage his workings while he’s gone. And they will. Terry had to leave early last night, and it was reported back to him that they were circling his equipment ($18 million worth of custom made by Terry stuff) like a pair of vultures waiting for something to die. It would be like them to cut a line or throw a wrench into a roller. Yeah, that petty. It’s going to be bad enough that Terry will be gone Wednesday for surgery, but him being out 2 days is well….Not Optimal, to say the least. even with Steve there to run interference.
We all have our own source of anxiety. When I was laid up, it was the smooth functioning of the household. Food to eat, laundry to fold, that sort of thing. With Terry its his livelihood, and the political fears of what his coworkers will do while he’s out. Part of me doesn’t understand why he can’t just sit in the chair and recuperate like a normal person. The other part of me knows who and what he’s up against at work, and wants to go over there and rip someone’s liver out, or maybe just a part of a lung, just enough to lay them up for a while.
and part of me wishes for the hourly job, with his name over the pocket, and the doublewide in Screven County.
Filed under: food
This is one of those phenomenal expanding recipes, that on the surface looks like ok, maybe it will feed 4. It’s got 2 chicken breasts, some tortillas and a can of tomatoes. 4 people, tops, right? Wrong. It fills a whole 9×13 pan and with a salad, will feed 8, easily. Magic! It’s also delicious. There’s some sort of history involving the King Ranch in Texas (located way in the southern part of the state, between Brownsville and Corpus Christi) but I don’t remember it. Anyway, Mom made this once in a while when we were growing up. It’s a great pot-luck supper dish, because you can assemble it ahead of time, then bake it when you’re ready. It is a classic retro- American food, like cheeseballs or spam sandwiches. It’s also CHEAP- what with only 2 chicken breasts and a stack or tortillas, the rest of the stuff you might already have in your pantry and fridge. Anyway, here it is:
King Ranch Casserole
2 chicken breasts
2 cups of water
1 cup of milk
1/2 cup of flour
1 cup sour cream or plain yogurt
1 teaspoon chili powder or ground chipotle pepper (if you like it spicy)
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro
2 8 oz cans of Ro-Tel tomatoes (or 1- 14 oz can of diced tomatoes and 1- 4 oz diced green chilis)
salt and pepper to taste
1 whole onion, chopped
1 whole red or green pepper, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoon vegetable oil
10 corn tortillas, quartered
1 cup shredded co-jack, cheddar or monterey jack cheese
Cook the chicken breasts in the water for about 20 minutes. Take out the breasts and let them cook. Keep boiling the water until it has reduced to about 1-1/2 cups. Chop the chicken breasts.
While the chicken cooks, saute’ the onions, peppers and garlic in a skillet with the oil until soft and starting to brown a little bit.
Stir together the flour, milk, sour cream and seasonings, until there are no lumps. Then stir the milk mixture into the boiling chicken water. Stir well and as it thickens, stir in the tomatoes and chilis.
Put a layer of 1/2 the quartered tortillas in the bottom of a 9×13 pan that has been sprayed with non stick spray, or greased. Sprinkle 1/2 the chopped chicken on the tortillas, and 1/2 the cooked onion-pepper mix, and top with 1/2 the sauce. Repeat with the tortilla, chicken, onion mix and sauce. Top with the cheese and bake at 350 degrees for about 1/2 an hour, until bubbly.
now, if you want to, you can substitute cream of chicken, celery or mushroom soup in place of the milk and flour sauce. Just mix it with the sour cream or yogurt and spices, and thin it with a touch of the broth. I’m trying to make a lower fat version by making my own sauce, tho, because I’m funny that way.
See! Magic! It’s what we’re having for supper even though I more in the mood for some of The Mandarin House’s fine Chinese Buffet, except that it would involve a 4 hour drive to get there, and, alas, no one is willing to do that this late in the day. There will be puh-LEN-tee of tasty leftovers for lunch tomorrow and through the weekend, because this stuff just keeps expanding. I don’t know how. Even Will could come over and get some and there’d be tons of leftovers.
Terry is not looking forward to this next surgery…I mean, who does? Does anyone (except maybe a person with Munchhausen’s) ever look forward to it? No? I didn’t think so. While I looked forward to the results of having my hip replaced, and to the results of giving birth, I never actually eagerly anticipated the processes. Hospitals aren’t resorts, the food sucks, and being checked by someone in unflattering scrubs every 4 hours…well, you know.
The doctor informed Terry that he WOULD be out of work for 5 days, if the Dr had to hire a goon squad to tie him down, he would. FIVE DAYS NO WORK. END OF STATEMENT. Of course, Terry was all “yas sir, whatever you say, sir” while plotting how to get around the edict. So, the surgery is scheduled for Wednesday, which means he only misses 2 actual days of mill-running work (Friday is a clean up day, and it’s Labor Day weekend). Steve, Terry’s counterpart in the Chicago operation, will be down for the week, and can run interference if El Presidente and The Jackass try to pull a stunt like they did last time, messing with Terry’s system and upsetting the staff. So, it’s the best of all worlds, considering.
Terry was also told that his arm will be COMPLETELY immobilized for 3 solid months. Well that stings, doncha know. But, soft tissue injuries don’t heal like bone injuries, they are tooky and particular. Basically what they’re doing is taking the big ligament that disonnected itself at his wrist, pulling it down (it’s like, all rolled up in his arm) and pinning it in place. Then he has to keep it perfectly still for 3 months to let it heal, then gradually work it back, doing physical therapy and not doing anything fun like changing brake shoes or golfing for a good long while.
I don't know if they'll do this, but they may have to, since he's, y'know...hardheaded.
You know how it is, you can go for near forever, comfortable in the knowledge that you *could* do something if you wanted to, but not actually doing it because *eh*, you’d rather do something else. Then suddenly, you’re in a position where you *can’t* do something, and that’s the very thing you want to do the most. I went through that with my hip. 2 weeks after it was replaced, and suddenly I’m overcome with the desire to do ballroom dancing. I predict come early October, Terry is going to desire woodworking above all else, and he’ll still be 2 months away from being able to even consider it. This morning we discussed the construction of a liquor cabinet, something to match in style our 1910 Arts and Crafts sideboard. I pondered perhaps I could build it with his leadership. Not the same as actually being the one to get sawdust in his hair, but perhaps it would help some.
So I guess the lesson, kids, is do what you want, when you can , because you never know when the chance will be taken away.
Filed under: food
Because we’re staring down a heckalotta hospital bills suddenly, I am having to revert my thinking back to Cheap. Particularly in the Food Department, because that’s where I spend most of the household money. So, calling upon memory has been entertaining, as well as kind of…whadyacallit…sentimental. It turns out, as much as I like things like roasted wasabi almonds and a perfectly grilled steak, I also like the cheap stuff, probably as much (if not more) than the pricey steaks and fancy nuts. Stuff like, pintos cooked with a smoked hock and a wedge of hot cornbread drizzled with honey. yum! Tonight’s Cheap Fare involves rice. Good old white rice, cooked to a mush with a little chicken broth and served with a smattering of condiments dug out of the fridge. Congee, it’s called in China, or Jook, in Thailand. Typically it’s a breakfast food, but we like it for supper. It is hot and filling, and excels at stretching a bit of meat over 4 bowls, and at using up that handful of cilantro, too much to throw away and not enough for a pico de gallo. Have a handful of peanuts rattling in the bottom of a jar? Throw them on the congee. Got a chicken breast? Chop it up, sizzle it in a skillet so it’s nice and crusty, and sprinkle some on top. A green onion? How about Pork Fu?
I discovered Pork Fu a while back, it’s a funky stuff, akin in texture to fiberglass insulation, with a porky-salty-soya flavor and it’s mighty good in congee. Cheap,too.
Anyway, here’s the recipe:
8 cups water (or 1/2 water 1/2 chicken broth, that’s how I make it)
1-1/2 cups rice
cook the rice in the water/broth for about 1-1/2 to 2 hours, until it makes a nice thick gruel. Serve in bowls and put out bowls of assorted toppings:
pork fu
crispy sizzled chopped chicken breast or pork
sliced green onion
shredded lettuce
chopped pickled cucumbers (sliced cucumbers covered with 1 part water, 1 part vinegar, let sit in the fridge)
coarsely chopped peanuts
soy sauce
fish sauce
sesame oil
scrambled egg
anything else you can think of that might be good: seaweed, perhaps, or chopped mushrooms, dried fish…whatever.
kimchee
green peas
snow peas, shredded
So, Terry has to have another surgery on his arm, to repair ligaments that disconnected during the original injury that broke the 2 bones in his lower arm and required surgery to put in plates and so on…Ok, I thought. Ok. So I called insurance to find out what the coverage would be, would it be considered part of the original injury and fall under that co-pay? oh, No! Of course not! It’s Separate! Different! More Co-pay , which does NOT count toward the deductible, but is merely a co-pay, which we have to pay. physical rehabilitation! Which will also require a copay! Separate! Not part of the whole thing even tho the ligament injury was part of the original thing which wound him up in the hospital originally!
I know, we are fortunate to have insurance, and you have permission to reach through the monitor and slap me for being whiney.
Today is filled with visits to the physicians. Terry is seeing the orthopod about his wrist, which has been misbehavin’, acting all wrong, looking strange. The other night he was pretty much convinced that they’d have to break his arm all over again, and start from scratch, and this caused much anxiety. My theory is that HE’S USING IT TOO MUCH BEFORE IT’S READY TO BE USED but then what do I know. It’s only been 6 weeks, he had flamin’ PLATES put in his arm- 2 of them and he’s all “oh, I don’t have time for this” and “oh I think it should be ok” but then he forgets that he’s 45 not 25 (sorry, hon, you know it’s true). I predict they’ll slap him in a cast and tell him to suck it up. Casts are not the optimal thing around these parts, and certainly not in a 115 degree textile mill. I mean, he comes home every night with his sling stinky from the sweat, imagine a cast that can’t be washed. ew.
I get to see The Good Dr. P, on the advise of The Good Dr. H. Dr. H is squirrely about my kidney function, as it’s not “bouncing back like I hoped it would”, said he upon my last visit. He wants me to consult with Dr. P about the possibility of seeing a nephrologist. *sigh*. Like I need another doctor. Plus I have this nasty rash on my hands, which all my internet research tells me Not Much Can Be Done except for stress management therapy. Like I need another doctor. It’s called dishidrotic excema and looks gross and nasty, plus it itches like a (insert expletive). Apparently stress brings it on, and I’ve had it off and on since I was pregnant with Will 22 years ago, but what I want to know is why doesn’t everyone get it because damn, people, LIFE is stress, right?
Between the 2 week trip (when it started), Terry breaking his arm 3 days later, #4 spending a week in the hospital with Gut Bugs right after that, CJ moving away and the inherent criticism (both internal and external) from that incident, my poor hands, they look like someone spilled acid on them. Feel like it, too.
Now is when I’m finally asking Daisy Deadhead for some dermatological advice. I’ve tried the Pharmaceuticals, and the Old Home Remedy of beeswax, lanolin and lavender oil (it always worked before!) and nothing is helping. I’ve tried the Old Tyme Country Doctor remedy that worked so well on #4’s excema of wet skin coated in Crisco and cotton gloves. Nothing. Does anyone have something else that might work?
Other than that, life’s grand. The washing machine is behaving, the dogs only poop on the bathroom floor, and only when they’re too lazy to go back downstairs and out the pet door to poop on the patio. #4 is loving school, CJ called and with the exception of his poor beleaguered truck which is finally revolting against his mistreatment, is doing well in school. Work is kicking Terry’s ass, but what else is new. Some people need to do some serious retiring so Terry can actually DO his job.
*edited a few hours later*
So, apparently Terry popped a ligament in his wrist. This means more surgery, next Wednesday, plus at LEAST 3 more months recovery as well as physical therapy. This explains the weirdness in his wrist.
Also, Dr P said “Oh my goodness” to the rash on my hands, never a good sign, and prescribed me Nuclear Strength steroid cream. And a referral to a nephrologist (unrelated to the rash). *sigh*
