Anyone who has ever picked up a Thai cookbook will know what they say: that store-bought Thai green curry paste is but a shadow of the real thing.

Blah blah blah.

I’ve been a green curry fan since sometime in college when I first ate at Sawatdee in Minneapolis with my then-boyfriend Jim — [...]]]>

Anyone who has ever picked up a Thai cookbook will know what they say: that store-bought Thai green curry paste is but a shadow of the real thing.

Blah blah blah.

I’ve been a green curry fan since sometime in college when I first ate at Sawatdee in Minneapolis with my then-boyfriend Jim — now known as bad-boyfriend Hong Kong-Jim. [He lives there. And no, he's not Chinese -- not that there's anything wrong with being Chinese. And he was a nice guy, just a baaaad boyfriend. ] Thai food back then was counter culture. Not popular. Dark. Exciting. Amazing. [kind of like Jim at the time...]

But now, Thai green curry is like the much-maligned Merlot. Over-sold. Over-consumed. Beneath the trendy.

I don’t care. I still love it.

Love.

It.

Since discovering Aaroy-D brand, I haven’t felt the tug that I used to — when buying green curry paste — to try making it from scratch. But then, while researching recipes that were not allowed by the New Year’s Board of Directors [see previous post], I came across a video on Rouxbe.com that re-kindled that long-forgotten urge.

So, during my last visit to a grocery store, I picked up the ingredients to make it. Came home, threw them in the ‘crisper’, and forgot all about them for about two weeks.

Because — what would a recipe given here be without the challenge of missing ingredients or ingredients gone bad? Surely there is a psychological name for this tendency of mine to sabotage perfectly good recipes.

But I did it! I made Thai green curry paste. It was so fun to make it all in a mortar and pestle — though a larger one would work better. And it was good! Different than store bought — not earth-shatteringly better — but definitely brighter tasting. Brighter is the right word. Fresher, too, but brighter and more alive would be more accurate.

I don’t think you can watch this video on Rouxbe.com without a membership — which I have and love — but these pictures are sort of a snapshot of the same thing, the main difference being that my ingredients were not as well grinded as theirs. I think this was mostly due to my smaller mortar, but also probably had something to do with two-week old lemon grass and slightly different ingredients.

Ya think? [see ingredient list below for clarification.]

First step was to grind the peppercorns with the salt. So cool how easily this was done and how pretty it looked after:

Then, after toasting the coriander (mine, from the garden, also sport some twigs from the stems alongside the seeds) and cumin seeds

you add them to the mortar and grind them up. Ahh the smell!!

Then, you add your finely chopped lemon grass. I believe nice, fresh lemongrass is a bit more forgiving that two week old, from the grocery store, probably already 3-week old lemon grass. Finely chopping mine was akin to chopping dried cattails, but I did my best to incorporate it…

Then you add chopped garlic. Again, mine was pretty dry compared to juicy fresh. I’m using up my biggest bulbs from last summer. While they still taste amazing, the textures is different.

Then the chopped cilantro stems… The recipe calls for the root of the plant, which is so cool, and which I’d have had NO PROBLEM with during the summer months. And I had the stems all chopped up sitting next to the leaves. For some reason, I accidentally threw in the whole pile of cilantro instead of just the stems. I didn’t realize I had screwed up until my paste no longer looked like paste.

I mashed and mashed and mashed…

And this was the best I could do: Next you add the peppers. Jalapeño if you like spicy. I added the seeds and everything. It was HOT!

The water content from the peppers helped smooth things out considerably:

Lastly the onions:

My mortar was starting to overflow and it was hard to really go after it without slopping over the sides. But it still looked pretty good:

It made enough for two dinner-type recipes. I used half to make Thai Green Curry Coconut Shrimp:

And the rest is in my freezer waiting to be discovered sometime next year.

Thai Green Curry Paste from Rouxbe.com:

• 1/2 tsp black peppercorns
• 1 tsp kosher salt
• 3 tbsp lemongrass [mine was old]
• 1 tsp galangal [I used ginger]
• 1 tbsp garlic [mine was old and dry]
• 2 tbsp shallots [I used onion]
• 2 tbsp coriander root (can substitute with cilantro stems) [I used leaves and stems]
• 5 hot, Thai green chilies [I used 3 jalapeños]
• 5 long green chilies [I used regular green and only 1/2]
• 1 tsp fresh turmeric (can substitute with 1 teaspoon dried) [I used dried]
• 1 kaffir lime [I used lime zest]
• 3/4 tsp shrimp paste [I skipped]
• 1 cup Thai sweet basil [I used basil paste]
• 1 tsp coriander seeds [mine had stems]
• 1/2 tsp cumin seeds [my only unadulterated ingredient!!]

To make the green curry paste, first prepare your mise en place. Finely mince the lemongrass, galangal, garlic, shallots, coriander root and the chilies.

Peel and mince the turmeric. Keep in mind that it will stain your cutting board, hands, and anything it comes into contact with. Gather the kaffir lime, shrimp paste and Thai basil and set aside.

In a small fry pan, toast the coriander and cumin seeds until they release their aroma and start to brown slightly.

To make the paste, use a mortar and pestle. Grind the spices, peppercorns and salt into a fine powder.

Next, add the lemongrass and pound until you reach a smooth paste, scraping down the sides as needed. Add the galangal, followed by the turmeric, making sure each is fully incorporated before adding the next. Add the garlic, cilantro stems, chilies and shallots.

Zest and add the kaffir lime, followed by the shrimp paste. Finely chop the basil and add it to the mortar and pestle, pounding everything into a smooth paste.

The paste can be kept in the refrigerator for a few days or frozen for a few months.

_________________

For the coconut curry recipe, I basically made the same one I usually do, found HERE, but I also added 1 tablespoon of fish sauce and — my newest very favorite trick:

Separating the cream from the milk in canned Thai Coconut Milk:

Usually I shake the can of coconut milk to incorporate everything together and then add it all at once, and if I have the time, cook it down a bit to thicken. But in Rouxbe.com’s recipe, they advise scooping the cream off the top and adding that to your protein and stir-frying over medium high heat until the cream separates from the oil. Frankly, mine never did this, but it did get shiny and different looking. THEN you add the watery milk and it all melds together. I really liked the consistency and it didn’t get that sort of curdled look that it can sometimes take on.

If I had more time, I’d go around at night snapping pictures of houses light up at night with multi-colored Christmas lights and decked-out Christmas trees in living room windows, googling their addresses and calling them out online.

I just don’t get it.

I know, I know: “I love Christmas. I hate when [...]]]> Seriously people.

If I had more time, I’d go around at night snapping pictures of houses light up at night with multi-colored Christmas lights and decked-out Christmas trees in living room windows, googling their addresses and calling them out online.

I just don’t get it.

I know, I know: “I love Christmas. I hate when it’s over.” Blah, blah, blah. Some wait for the Epiphany. Fine. But that’s come and gone too. So do me a favor and take down your Christmas stuff. It’s time.

I know not everyone is like me, taking them down the day after Christmas. I’m not a bah humbugger; I do have a reason. We leave for Hayward after Christmas most years and coming back to the Christmas decorations is just a bad thing. I like the new year to come in cool, clean and clutter-free. The tree and all the accoutrements makes for a wonderfully cozy December mood. But the day the presents get opened, it’s over.

Out with the old.

In with the new.

Except…

I seem to have one small problem…

I just can’t seem…

to have the heart…

to take these another 4 steps…

to the trash!

But I’m getting closer.

But really, it was our worst showing ever, food-wise.

Lack-luster dishes and poor timing downgraded Chef Jennie and her line cooks from a coveted 3 star Michelin rating to two. In the aftermath of evening’s worst performance, the board was scrambling to make sweeping [...]]]> It’s a catchy title, people. It wasn’t that bad.

But really, it was our worst showing ever, food-wise.

Lack-luster dishes and poor timing downgraded Chef Jennie and her line cooks from a coveted 3 star Michelin rating to two. In the aftermath of evening’s worst performance, the board was scrambling to make sweeping changes that included moving the Chef to a less prominent role and reducing the number of dishes offered to a more manageable amount.

Chef Jennie was not available for comment, but sources have seen her mingling with other backers. It’s widely known that Jennie has long-lobbied the New Year’s board for a broader range of ethnicities on the menu, complaining bitterly that Betty Crocker’s 1981 Chinese Cooking with recipes by LeeAnn Chin, featuring crowd favorite Sesame Chicken, and this year’s bust, “Beef with Noodles,” are passé and should not be the starting point for the creative direction of New Year’s.

The Chef has been laying low in Watertown, likely recuperating from the ordeal. A close friend of the family said, “Jennie is hardly cooking at all these days. It’s clear from her blog that she loves to cook, but this has hit her hard.” A parent of the Chef’s daughter’s best friend’s little sister had this to say, “I don’t know what’s so great about Chef Jennie. She should stick to gardening.”

Time will tell the fate of New Year’s. With the graduation and departure of two key board members to college, one of whom reached the milestone age of 21, it’s anyone’s guess if this debacle will be the tipping point for the company. The board was keeping quiet on the subject, but at least one key analyst wonders if those two board members will even return unless the Chef turns control over to the board.

–Associated Press Syndication © January 2012

Clockwise from left: chinese ribs, fresh spring rolls, sesame chicken, Pho

annual cream cheese puff glutton-fest

the queen of sesame chicken

clockwise from left: Chicken with Cashew, Beef and Noodle, appetizer bar, butter lettuce for PF Chang Lettuce wraps

YouTube Advisor To The Chef

board members in happier times

Behind the Scenes: Hair and Makeup

clockwise from left: cheers!, one crabby and one happy board member, the sesame chicken queen, mascot to the board acts as pre-midnight pillow for board member who later claimed, "I wasn't sleeping."

Watertown is a small place, so I assume Patty is well aware of my transgression by now. But apologizing is part of the twelve steps, so this is the public apology you, my frenetic stylist, deserve.

I have been unfaithful.

I have strayed from our ten year relationship. I had a delayed seven-year itch. [...]]]>

Watertown is a small place, so I assume Patty is well aware of my transgression by now. But apologizing is part of the twelve steps, so this is the public apology you, my frenetic stylist, deserve.

I have been unfaithful.

I have strayed from our ten year relationship. I had a delayed seven-year itch. It isn’t you. It’s me. I still love you. It didn’t mean anything.

Actually, I was seduced by the bright lights and big city. And the Keratin Smoothing Treatment.

[I seriously did not need to flat iron my roots! Can you believe it? Sorry, I'm sounding too enthusiastic, I know. I need to be contrite.]

And the idea that someone could lend me some new insight on the Bangs Dilemma.

How was it for me? It was fun! It was exciting! Just like an affair should be. [not that I would know about that.] I got to sit in a huge salon. I got to sit in a massage chair! Lisa was great!**

Here was her answer to the Bangs Dilemma.

She gave me a choice: Bangs or Botox. I picked bangs. So I have bangs again. Which is exactly what you’ve been saying to me for seven years. Well, that isn’t entirely true, is it? We both know you first counciled me to grow the suckers out. Then, when you saw what I looked like without bangs, you changed your mind. And I said, “I told you so.” and you said, “You were right.”

Just like an old married couple.

And you will forgive me. Because that’s the way you are. And we’ll go back to bickering about my bangs. And my moisturizer.

But I’m not sure I can give up the Keratin Smoothing Treatment… Which brings me to one more minor detail…

Morgan had a hair affair too.*

Sorry!

*Save yourself the time of telling my how beautiful Morgan’s hair is. I know it is. Her curls are gorgeous. But she has always wanted straight hair. So now, courtesy of Visa, she has it. For about 3 months. Should she ever want it again, she will need a Bachelor’s degree and a good job. And Morgan, save yourself the breath of complaining about that first pic. I included it to show our detractors why you want straight hair. This is what happens when curl meets brush. Thought you straight-hair-curl-wannabes should know that.

**[Lisa Kingrey Johnson at Salon Lili.] –but that’s only a plug for big city folk. Watertownians [and Sheilabird] should stick to Patty like glue.

You think I’m kidding?

I’m not. Pixi mascara doesn’t just look good, it is a time machine. It has opened doors I thought long closed. I, my friends, am a new person.

First, and most importantly, Pixi mascara allows me to stop manically curling my lashes. Before I discovered it, I would probably grab [...]]]>

You think I’m kidding?

I’m not. Pixi mascara doesn’t just look good, it is a time machine. It has opened doors I thought long closed. I, my friends, am a new person.

First, and most importantly, Pixi mascara allows me to stop manically curling my lashes. Before I discovered it, I would probably grab the eyelash curler 3 or 4 times a day, depending on how often I crossed paths with my make-up bag, and pop it over my stubborn lashes and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

Because, you see, my lashes would not stay curled. I tried what seemed like every mascara under the sun. Nothing worked for more than 15 or 20 minutes..

I have such straight lashes that tend to point downward, into my eyes. So I’m not just giving them a 45 degree bend, I’m trying to to achieve a 180 to 270 degree curve. Of course it never works. Here’s a pic using my previous brand of mascara after only a couple minutes. Not too impressive.

Now granted, I don’t spend a whole lot of time on this. I don’t really wear that much make-up. To my make-up-artist in training, I’m all but a blank slate: “Put some make-up on, Mom.”

“I AM wearing make-up!”

(and I really am.)

When I asked her to take these close-ups, she said “Pile it on. You can’t even see it!” Whereas when I actually saw the close-ups I was appalled at how much there appeared to be.

There were many other things I was appalled by, don’t get me wrong: the hooded lids, the crepe paper skin, the stray eyebrows, etc. etc. But whatever.

After about 15 years of using various mascaras that allowed my lashes to stay curled for about 10 minutes before pointing straight out, I picked up a tube of Pixi at target.

It’s not Target-cheap though; it was $18. I was aware of the Pixi brand (and their prices) after having switched from Benetint to Pixi cheek gel several years ago based on the simple virtue that Pixi’s clear red cheek gel looked like Benetint, but didn’t come as a liquid in that Godforsaken glass vial — which I had, on more than one occasion, broken all over my bathroom floor.

Not only did the Pixi cheek gel work just as good, it took up less space in my bag (always a plus) and never dripped on my boob when I applied it (don’t underestimate the importance of this). In short, I love it. I’m on my second tube and each lasts over a year. Well worth the price of $18 — yes, the same as the mascara.)

So, I’m sure you are wondering how Pixi mascara saved my life. Now that I’m knee deep into this story, it does seem a bit heavy-handed, “Saved my life…” How about “Changed my life?” Let’s go with that.

Anyway, I do a lot of standing around in the make-up aisles at Target, but not a lot of buying, because frankly, it all seems rather pointless at 46. Sort of a lost cause… Ironically, late last year, I was mailed a Pixi catalog. A tiny little booklet of marketing wonder promising the most amazing (and ludicrous) things. I read it cover to cover. I was absolutely absorbed by it. I don’t know why. Maybe it was the first person testimonial format they used. Maybe it was wishful thinking. But still.

I come from an advertising background. I’m jaded. And I’m old. I’ve been around the block a few times.

So, in the end, I believed none of it. Not. A. Single. Word.

Until the mascara.

Until.

The.

Mascara.

The catalogue said, and I quote: “lash-lifting,” and “With my straight lashes this is the ONLY mascara that holds the curl all day.”

I didn’t believe it. The fact that I still bought it had more to do with the fact that I had hemmed and hawed over the concealers and brightening creams I had read about in the catalogue for so long, couldn’t decide on any of them and grabbed a tube of mascara instead. I actually needed new mascara and I figured, “How bad could it be?”

Now, I could write the testimonial for the catalogue. I could be the spoke person.

The problem is… now… I am finding myself… wanting to believe everything I read! Covergirl Simply Ageless! Yes! Maybelline Highlighting Concealer! Yes! I’ll take two! …wait, isn’t that an oxymoron? Highlighting Concealer? never mind… Unibrows Worry Line Divot Remover! Yes! I mean, no, but I wish.

So you can see my dilemma, can you not? I’m a changed woman. But this is not necessarily a good thing.

[UPDATE TO POST ON 1/21/2012]

Well, now I know what interests you guys. Man, what a bunch of make-up grubbing lunatics you are.

Anyway, in my haste to get this ridiculous entry posted, I left out one teeny weeny detail:

If you haven’t yet run out to Target to pick up the Pixi, add this to your list.

You will need it.

Happy Shopping!

That may sound lame to you, but it is a first for me. I am the grand resolver. I love to resolute. For me, my family. I stop at nothing in my high and mightiness.

So this year, my resolution is to not resolve.

Does that sound lame?

The truth is, I am coming [...]]]>

That may sound lame to you, but it is a first for me. I am the grand resolver. I love to resolute. For me, my family. I stop at nothing in my high and mightiness.

So this year, my resolution is to not resolve.

Does that sound lame?

The truth is, I am coming to the realization that I am simply not in control of my life anymore. I am at the complete mercy of my kids and their schedules.

I always thought the busiest time would be when they were little. –And, it was harder then in many ways. But now? I can’t even pick my nose before I realize I’m late for something. Forgot something. Didn’t do something.

Family dinners are all but impossible. Ohhh, I was soooo convinced we would alllllways have family dinners.

Oh, how I judged those who didn’t.

Two, maybe three a week.

Maybe.

So last year’s resolution of Kid’s Cook Mondays was a total bust. A complete failure. And I’m not very good at failure. It’s eaten at me. Dogged my every Monday. But: it’s pretty hard for kids to cook if they are eating at Subway between soccer and youth group. Or jazz band and basketball. Or soccer and soccer. Or eating at 9:30 when they get home. Or 4:30 when they leave. [In case you are wondering, it doesn't stop me from eating.]

So what should I resolve?

My joke to the family was that we’d be going gluten free for 2012. No one even believed me for a single second.

For, no Menke would make it even one gluten-free day.

Not one.

I did say I wasn’t going to drink any alcohol in January. But it wasn’t a real resolution. More of a guideline.

[...one that I'm really regretting right this very minute as I drink my third thermos of mint tea.]

And I did throw around the idea of doing the Bon Appetit Food Lover’s Cleanse. Went online and checked it out. And then realized we are only home to eat dinner those two, maybe three, nights a week, so what’s the point.

Still, it wasn’t a resolution.

So what do I want to change for 2012? You know, assuming I’m not perfect already?

Nothing.

Because, yes, I am perfect already. I’m taking the year off.

This will be hard — even harder than Meatless Mondays.

I know.

Let’s put that behind us and move on to greener pastures.

Or dead ones.

The potato patch, to be specific.

Potatoes are a cash crop and worth the effort.

[No, not really.]

Potatoes grown in the garden are amazingly different from their supermarket counterparts and worth the [...]]]> I know it’s been a while.

I know.

Let’s put that behind us and move on to greener pastures.

Or dead ones.

The potato patch, to be specific.

Potatoes are a cash crop and worth the effort.

[No, not really.]

Potatoes grown in the garden are amazingly different from their supermarket counterparts and worth the effort.

[No, not really.]

Potatoes are so easy to grow and rarely fall victim to pests or blight and are worth the effort.

[No, not really.]

Like corn, it seems, every year, I grow potatoes, regardless of what my notes from the previous year tell me to do. I think the main reason is that I always have an empty planting box and withered, sprouting potatoes from the year before in the lower garage. It just seems silly not to plant potatoes.

So I do.

And then I listen to my dad bellyache about it for the next several months since I often guilt him in to digging them for me. He’s probably only really done it two, maybe three, times. But you’d think I had him out there slaving away every year since 1995 the way he goes on about it.

“Potatoes? Potatoes! Why’d the Hell you plant potatoes? I’ll buy you potatoes. I’ll pay you not to dig them. They don’t taste any different from the store. Geez”

…and on and on and on.

So it was this year as well. And I really had no intention of having him dig the potatoes. Really, I didn’t. But a series of events forced me to ask.

First, he was going to paint the barn. Then, when that didn’t pan out, he offered to paint the lattice on the screen porch. When we needed to use the parking spot where the lattice was laying, we farmed that project out as well.

Clearly he was in my debt.

And yet, still I refrained from assigning him potato duty. Not that I didn’t tease, and threaten. Sure I did. But I had no plans to go through with it.

Until that fateful Saturday in November.

He had willingly offered to accompany Charlie to his second annual Robotics tournament. Charlie had to be there at 8 am. It was a 45 minute drive, which meant they would have to leave at 7:15 am. No easy task for Gramps. He’s not a morning guy. I totally get that and it was one of the reasons I was delighted he wanted to go. –I take after him; I’m not a morning guy either.

The other reason was that last year’s tournament went all day.

All day. A robotics tournament, all day.

To be fair, I did want to make sure he didn’t feel like he had to do it. I even said, “You don’t have to do it, dad. I was planning to dig potatoes tomorrow, so if you don’t want to go, maybe you can dig the potatoes?” heh heh.

No, no, no, no. My plan worked! He was going. I was thrilled. My dad is the best!

Unfortunately, at 7:15 am the next morning, the loft was pitch black.

Pitch black.

So I threw the covers off, threw some jeans on, whipped my way-too-long-hair-for-a-46-year-old into a ponytail, screamed some things like, “WHAT ARE THOSE CLOTHES IN THE BATHROOM? WHY ISN’T YOUR BED MADE? ARE YOU READY? DO YOU HAVE YOUR STUFF?”

I threw the car into reverse and…

…nearly backed over my mother.

Who had run down the driveway in a panic wearing her gigantic fur coat that she keeps at the loft to tell me, “He’s up! He can take him. It’s fine!”

Which I knew was not true. He might be up, sure. But was he ready to go? Was he in the car? Why was my mother in the driveway, freezing her butt off? Or not freezing her butt off since she was wearing a big bear fur, or coyote. Or something.

“No, no. It’s fine. Just tell him he can either come relieve me at noon or dig the potatoes.”

And then I left her in the dust.

Ironically, it was also to be the first snow storm of the year. Which started around 11am and made it silly for him to drive all the way in to town to relieve me, and even more important for me to get the potatoes dug. And so began a day long email exchange:

The first, from my dad:

In between these two emails he called me and we decided he shouldn’t drive in. And he grudgingly said he’d dig the potatoes.

By this time, I was starting to suspect he was just messing with me. –That he had dug the potatoes hours before and was simply having fun at my expense. I went along with it, acting enraged.

He called me again, to ask me where the garden fork was. He was really hamming it up. I mean for crying out loud. I continued to go along with it. “DAD! It’s in the garden! If it’s not in the garden it’s in the barn hanging up! Where have you looked?!”

KJDJDSHSHST…YOU ARE BREAKING UP…. silence.

And he was gone.

*******

The sloth really didn’t dig the potatoes. He laid on the couch, watching the snow and reading a book all day. Morgan and my mom both tattled on him, so I know it’s true.

And, after the snow melted a few days later, I went out to the garden to see this:

The garden fork, in the potato bed.

So he’s a liar, too.

Most people do that, I know. But I’m one to just throw caution to the wind.

I’m not hosting Thanksgiving this year, but I am making bread, veggies and… I’m still not sure of the last thing. I [...]]]> In a rare turn of events, I decided to try a recipe out before the big day.

Most people do that, I know. But I’m one to just throw caution to the wind.

I’m not hosting Thanksgiving this year, but I am making bread, veggies and… I’m still not sure of the last thing. I was contemplating making this super-cool recipe I saw in Bon Appetit. You make the soup inside a beautiful pumpkin or squash and that is also the serving vessel.

Here’s the picture from the magazine:

How fun is that?! Isn’t it pretty?

Of course, looking at it now, I have all kinds of comments, but first, let’s see how I did.

Recipe calls for “One 6-8lb Cinderella, cheese of Jarrahdale (Blue) pumpkin.

Amazingly, I had two of the three varieties listed sitting on my front steps in a variety of sizes. (What, on God’s green Earth is a “cheese pumpkin”?) I’d made the Jarrahdale Pumpkin for Thanksgiving last year (which is nearly identical to Sweet Meat Squash, and in fact I am not certain which one I have.) and it was delicious. I’d always heard that the Cinderella Pumpkins that I grow for decoration are also delicious. –The most I’d ever done with them was to heave them into my compost pile at the end November. I decided to use my smallest Cinderella to test the recipe since it was snowy and cold that day and it just sounded so festive!

“Won’t the kids be impressed!” I thought.

I hate cleaning pumpkins out. Truly and utterly. So, I wasn’t excited about cleaning out the Cinderella. But it was way different than a carving pumpkin. Not slimy at all.

The stem fell off this one, but I didn’t care. “It’s only for the family. I’ll save the most beautiful one for Thanksgiving day!” I murmured to myself as I happily cooked.

Next you were to rub the outside of the pumpkin with some butter, then sprinkle the inside with fennel seeds (ick! I used cumin seeds), salt and pepper. Then add 2 cups Gruyére (I used Jarlsberg cuz that’s what I had), some sliced garlic, 2 bay leaves and 1 cup of bread crumbs.

Yes bread crumbs.

No, I have no idea why.

Yes, it seemed gross to me too.

Anyway.

You are directed to set the pumpkin on a piece of parchment on a rimmed baking sheet. Finally, you add 5-7 cups of chicken stock “to come within 3 inches of the pumpkin’s rim.”

You will have to take my word for the fact that a 6-8lb pumpkin is pretty small. So unless there is some nuclear fission happening with the chicken stock there is no flippin’ way you are ever going to fit 5-7 cups of broth inside that little sucker. Also: what does “within 3 inches of the rim” mean? Does that mean don’t go above 3 inches below the rim? Does it mean fill it up so that you don’t have any more than 3 inches of space?

These are all good questions to ponder if you are a conscientious cook, which I am not.

I averaged the two gray areas, took the square root of the answer, put the lid on it and put it in the oven. (In other words, I added as much stock as I could and left about 1 inch of space from the rim.)

Over the next couple hours, I had a lot of time to ponder this ridiculous recipe, as I watched my pumpkin cook, soften, exude liquid from it’s flesh, overflow and begin to flatten.

…all while cooking in the oven on a “rimmed baking sheet.”

Isn’t that the purpose of squash? To soften completely into silky goodness? Yes, yes, you say. But now, what if that soft, silky goodness is holding chicken stock, melted cheese and 1 cup of mystery bread crumbs?

(On a rimmed baking sheet.)

As the minutes turned to hours, while I ladled cupfuls of broth out of the overflowing pumpkin, more questions began to form in my wee brain:

• How do you get the pumpkin off the rimmed baking sheet?
• What in the Sam Hill is the parchment paper for?
• What happens if it collapses?
• Why, in God’s great name, do they have you put this filled pumpkin on rimmed baking sheet?!

Anway.

The idea of this brothy soup is that you scrape the inside of the pumpkin as you serve it. Cool, huh?

No. Not cool. I started to obsess over the idea of the pumpkin collapsing in the oven and the liquid going everywhere. Actually, it wasn’t really obsessing. It was a valid concern. As soon as the time was up, I removed it from the oven. Problem was, the squash wasn’t soft enough yet. It needed to go back in.

I’m no fool. I decided to transfer the pumpkin to a baking dish that would hopefully hold the liquid if the pumpkin ruptured. Transferring it was no small feat. If you are foolhardy enough to try this recipe yourself, save yourself the ponderous questions and cook it in a big-ass pot.

I continued to cook it until it seemed soft enough to scoop:

Which it wasn’t. It never was.

Additionally, the magazine doesn’t mention a suggested serving plate, but given the dramatic vessel, it seems the dish I have it in does not do it justice at all. And yet: what happens when, as you scoop the inside, you puncture the flesh?

I can just picture my sister-in-law, as she bustles around the kitchen making sure everything is ready to begin serving Thanksgiving dinner, when I pull this fragile and potential disaster from the oven — providing it hasn’t already flooded her oven during the baking process. Can you even imagine?

And I haven’t even gotten to the soup itself!

The magazine photo shows bowls of delicate broth with sumptuous strands of melty cheese:

I refrain from subjecting you to a photo of my bowl. It tasted good enough — well except for the squash, which, how shall I put this… sucked – but was a voyeurs nightmare. Globs of cheese swirling in a murky broth with semi-disintegrated bread crumbs.

I cannot recall a more bland and stringy squash experience.

Even my chickens stuck their beaks up at it.

So no, don’t worry Sharon, I will not be bringing Baked Pumpkin Soup to your Thanksgiving table this year as previously promised. Instead, I will be bringing brussels sprouts, which, if what you say is true, not one of your family will eat.

Yes: another challenge. For I am the Morgan-family* vegetable evangelist!

Roasted Brussels Sprouts

If you want to be really nice, make them ahead so that self-proclaimed brussels-haters will not be able to harangue you with complaints of their cruciferous odor. (They stink while cooking.) Roast them ahead of time, then just heat in the microwave or toss in a hot pan before serving.

To make them, cut brussels in half, film a cast iron pan with oil and put cut-side down in the pan.

Drizzle with a little more oil, season generously with salt and pepper, and put in a hot oven (375-425, Any in that range will do). Flip them when you see the edges on the bottom start to caramelize, after about 15-20 minutes.

They are done when they nicely mottled with brown spots and are easily pierced with a sharp knife. Taste for seasoning and — if you like, and we do — splash with balsamic vinegar and serve hot.

Or, add hot crumbled bacon.

Or, add blue cheese.

Or, add all three!

Morgan will fight you to the death for the last brussels sprout. I like to think it’s because, when she was 3 or 4,  I told her they were “Barbie Lettuce.”

*For those with a confused and ponderous question of their own: Morgan is both the name of my illustrious daughter, and my maiden name.

I had more flies yesterday. A lot more.

But when Ollie Cat came in looking for dinner around, oh, 2:30 pm — daylight savings is a real stretch for my 4-legged friends — and I didn’t respond to her meows, her sitting on my keyboard effing everything up, her move to a spot on [...]]]>

I had more flies yesterday. A lot more.

But when Ollie Cat came in looking for dinner around, oh, 2:30 pm — daylight savings is a real stretch for my 4-legged friends — and I didn’t respond to her meows, her sitting on my keyboard effing everything up, her move to a spot on my wacom tablet, directly in front of my screen. –Well I finally responded by pushing her aside and she settled down for an apparent nap on my paper cutter.

(Still meowing pathetically.)

It took me a while to register the sound she was soon making: the sound of eating.

And I realized she was eating my flies that I had been saving to make myself feel better about my accomplishments for the day. She ate about half of them before I screamed at her to, and I swear this is verbatim: “HEY! STOP IT! THOSE ARE MY FLIES!”

And I find I have little else to show for, or to say about this day.

I know, I know, most of you don’t care. But remember: my tag line is “the dichotomous life of a Mac Geek Farm Girl.” To know me is to love me? And Macs are a big slice. I must feed the beast.

I left Lion to [...]]]> So this is one of those posts. [A tech one.]

I know, I know, most of you don’t care. But remember: my tag line is “the dichotomous life of a Mac Geek Farm Girl.” To know me is to love me? And Macs are a big slice. I must feed the beast.

I left Lion to languish since it’s arrival in the App Store several months ago. I did not have the time, nor the inclination to tackle a new operating system on top of everything else. OS updates never — I mean never — go without a hitch. It could be your printer drivers. It could be some element of your main programs that don’t play nice. Eventually you get it figured out, but only after spending hours researching the fix. Most of the time it comes in the form of “trash your preferences.” Or, “uninstall Windowshade.” And you find yourself thinking, “if I had only known that ahead of time!”

My decision to upgrade usually hinges on some small thing. In this case, it was iOS 5. I simply cannot resist the temptation to update my iPhone. It’s so fun! And never as scary as my Mac OS. So I upgraded.

And was faced with iCloud.

…And the constant reminder to transfer MobileMe (contacts, calendars, mail, etc.) before June. The clock was ticking! But first you had to upgrade to Lion. *sigh*

Having had my head in the iSand for months now, I didn’t recall ever hearing about iCloud. And for the life of me, I could not figure out what the fricken difference was between it and MobileMe. A serious head scratcher. And frankly, it still is. I was irritated that I had to move everything when it was all working fine. But it was now in my head. iCloud, iCloud, iCloud… “I wonder if it’s better. Maybe I should switch to Lion… I wonder if…” And so it goes. I’m hooked.

My guess is, that just like taking on a simple home project, iCloud morphed out of Apple’s not being able to fix MobileMe the way they wanted to. From what I can tell, the benefit of iCloud is for NON MobileMe users. I can’t really see any improvement with iCloud — unless of course Back to My Mac starts working reliably, or cloud storage and back-up starts working like Dropbox (my all time favorite program/backup system/syncing system/file sharing system EVER!). But I don’t see that happening yet. I like the idea of all Mac device users getting mac.com or me.com accounts. I like free back up, but I don’t like having to make the move. I do like saving $100 on a MobileMe subscription.

So anyway, starting on Monday, I spent two days cleaning out our Macs. To listen to me cleaning out the three user profiles on the iMac, going through the kids’  downloads folders, the TV seasons folder, and the messy desktops would have been indistinguishable from listening to me clean up my kids’ rooms. There are a lot of similarities. They are both packrats and digital packrats.

After that, I backed everything up. Time Machine is good for that, but I only trust it so far. It seems a little flaky to me. I use SuperDuper for big back ups. Next I read as much as I could about the update. The big Lion deal-breaker for me was it’s incompatibility with Quicken 2007 for Mac. I truly believed Intuit would update Quicken and all would be good. The more I read about Quicken, however, the more insane it became. Turns out, no, they aren’t going to update Quicken. All Intuit’s Mac-eggs are going in to the Quicken Essentials basket — a watered-down version of Quicken. No more online bill pay being the biggest issue for me. (No more export to TurboTax and no investment tracking being the big issue for other people). So, I researched the other options. I thought I had settled on iBank and downloaded it. But after reading about troubles importing Quicken Classes (all my job numbers were recorded as classes) I got nervous. In the end, I rolled over and bought Quicken Essentials. I’ve committed to using my bank’s online bill pay instead of through Quicken and having reconciled four accounts for two months, I can say it is just fine. Nothing great, but transferring and getting up and running was effortless. And that’s what mattered most to me.

I installed Lion on the MacBook Air first, then the iMac, and last night I took a deep breath and updated my MacBook Pro. I’d read so much whining and complaints about Lion, I was pretty nervous. But I have to say, so far I really like it. I’m trying hard to get used to the backwards (they call it “natural”) scrolling. Working on three different hardware devices, I have this to say: natural scrolling on a screen makes perfect sense. On a trackpad it makes some sense, but is less intuitive. On a magic mouse it is one step removed from a trackpad, but doable. On a scrolling button mouse, it is insane and borderline impossible.

My biggest loss is the App Switcher. I simply loved it and now it is gone. I’m trying hard to embrace its replacement: LaunchPad. I’m also embracing full screens and moving between apps that way. So far I love it.

The mobile OS, iOS, doesn’t seem too much different to me. I have to say I do LOVE the way notifications stack on the screen now instead of piling up on top of each other.

MobileMe’s transfer to iCloud went OK. Not 100% smooth, but I got lucky. It turns out that if you had a POP Mail account set up in MobileMe before the transfer – and my DSL Frontier is POP, iCloud could choke on it. The mail transfer hung up 1/4 of the way in. I forced quit, found the user library (now hidden in Lion, but found it by choosing “go to folder” from the Finder and typing in ~/library/) and trashing com.apple.mail.plist from the preferences folder. I rebooted and then mail was able to transfer to iCloud. Some have not been as lucky and have had to reinstall Lion.

I guess the best advice is to always back up, but to ALSO read up before an upgrade. Search “Lion problems”, “Lion troubleshooting”, etc. And don’t put too much stock in to online reviews. I swear, they seem to get worse and angrier with each passing year — which I suppose makes sense. Most unhappy customers voice their experiences while happy customers don’t take the time. That certainly applies to me.

This was probably the easiest I’ve ever had it for a major upgrade.