I consider the last four years as analogous to a stain on a vintage patterned rug. (Choose your nastiest stain.) At first the stain is obvious and disgusting. However, with time and aggressive scrubbing, the stain blends into the background. You know the stain’s still there, but it’s not as overt as it was in the beginning.
In the case of the previous administration, it was a succession of stains on our body politic. The Russia-coddling and Ukraine-bribing. Appointments of incompetent and sometimes corrupt toadies to government agencies. Family separations and child imprisonment at the southern border. The botched response to Covid-19 that’s resulted in the deaths of over 400,000 Americans. Finally, the denial of the election results and the insurrection on January 6.
Fortunately, the stain is beginning to lift. An experienced, empathetic man was inaugurated as President on Wednesday. His Vice President is a woman who’s proven herself in California and national politics. The cabinet appointments are diverse and highly qualified for their positions. Although it’ll take a while to scrub the worst stains of the previous administration out of our national life, we’re on the way to restoring the fabric of America.
The city of Seattle has imposed a 25 mph speed limit on most arterials (main drags) and 20 mph on side streets. While the goal of reducing pedestrian and bicycle fatalities is admirable, the speed limits will be almost universally ignored.
We have firsthand experience of the futility of 25 mph speed limits. Our cul-de-sac empties onto a street with that limit. It’s a de facto arterial because many people use the street to avoid driving on Western Washington’s Longest Parking Lot (alias I-405). The speed limit is flouted by nearly every car on the street. One crosses the street at significant peril to life and limb. The city put a “Your Speed” sign on the street for a few weeks some years ago. It didn’t work, except when a Bothell Police car was stationed a block up the street in plain view of the speeders.
If Seattle is serious about the lower speed limits, it should back them up with aggressive enforcement. Given the dire budgetary straits due to Covid-19, speeding tickets could be an untapped source of funds. Something to consider.
The New York Times published a list of restaurants nationwide that had closed because of Covid-19 closures. The list was, naturally, East Coast-centric until the last few entries. The one that really hurt was Pok Pok. We made that restaurant a regular stop on our trips to Portland. We even went to their outpost in Las Vegas. All of the branches, alas, are no mas. Andy Ricker, the owner, has moved to Thailand. I plan on making a variation of Pok Pok’s chicken wings in its memory in the next few days.
New York has the ball at Times Square. Key West has the giant high heel shoe containing a drag performer. Given the year we’ve had, I propose that we drop a giant model of a coronavirus. To be more physiologically and aspirationally correct, the spike proteins should have antibodies stuck to them. As midnight approaches, the virus heads for a white blood cell. At the stroke of midnight, the white blood cell eats the virus. A very fitting ending to 2020.
I spent much of my adult life working in research laboratories. While some of the equipment and supplies have no use in home kitchens, others would be perfect additions. Here are a few that I’d love to see sold at the supermarket or kitchen supply store.
Parafilm. This is what plastic wrap wants to be when it grows up. It stretches to form a nice seal over your beakers or bowls. You can buy it in different sizes so there’s less waste. It can be reused a few times.
Magnetic stirrers. I thought these were magic when I first saw them as a kid. Some of the stirrers have heating blocks as well. This would make candy- or roux-making much easier if you had a large enough magnet that was relatively heat-proof. Some stirrers look more like propellers and are suspended into the liquid.
pH meters and test strips. The pandemic brought on a new interest in canning and preserving. The problem is that if you’re not careful, whatever you canned could be contaminated with nasty bacteria if the acidity isn’t high enough (as measured by a pH less than about 5.5). The key is finding pH test strips that don’t leach stuff into your food. A pH meter would only be for the truly geeky among us. The detector can be a bit fragile, especially if you get it too close to a stirring magnet. (Been there, done that a few times.)
A table-top incubator. You can get big ones for cell and bacterial cultures, but one the size of a dorm fridge would be handy for making yogurt or kick-starting bread dough. It would hold the temperature at a balmy 37° C (99° F) to make the Lactobacilli and yeast very happy.
I could get even geekier, but that would venture farther into molecular gastronomy than I’m comfortable with. I prefer my food to resemble food.
I was not in the mood for Christmas this year. I didn’t bother decorating. Shopping for presents in person was not a pleasant idea given the rising number of Covid-19 cases and the possibility of encountering infected virus deniers. I did do a quick dive into two stores for presents for my sister’s grandkids – and sent them off at the last possible minute. I was in full bah, humbug mode.
We had one semblance of normal in a virtual white elephant exchange with our friends on Christmas Eve. The Lizards on a Stick made a repeat appearance. Fortunately, we didn’t get them. I got an unopened Ancestry DNA kit. Julian got a pandemic survival kit containing more hand sanitizer, N95 masks, and Lysol.
Christmas started out on a bad note when I managed to spill Julian’s coffee on the white living room carpet as I was wrestling a large package. A half hour of rug cleaning ensued. (Why does anyone put white carpeting in homes? Three places in a row that we’ve rented have had white carpets.) We’d assumed that the package was from Back East. It turned out to be a 12-pack of tissues that Julian had ordered a couple of weeks earlier. We broke down laughing. The rest of the day was much more relaxed, with a walk in the park just before it started raining again. We also finished off the Christmas Eve duck for dinner.
Hope you managed to have a merry little Christmas. Next year, virus permitting, we should have a more normal celebration.
The Lord and Master decreed that we shalt have pie for our Christmas Eve dinner. Since I’d just bought some pecans on sale, pecan pie it was. The filling recipe came off the pecan package. It was identical to the recipe on the corn syrup label, although it used about 50% more pecans. (Gee, I wonder why…)
Pie crust is the weakest link in my culinary chain. I tried to avoid making pie crusts for years. I’d make crustless quiches and pies with graham cracker crusts, anything to avoid making pastry crusts. Some of it is my aversion to shortening, for nutritional and taste reasons. Shortening is partially hydrogenated vegetable oil, which contains trans fat. Trans fat increases the LDL “bad” cholesterol and decreases HDL “good” cholesterol, which is why food companies tripped over each other trying to get it out of their products as a marketing tool. However, if a product contains less than half a gram of trans fat per serving, it can be labeled trans fat free. Butter is my solid fat of choice for baking.
Several years ago I found a food processor recipe for pie crust, which works quite nicely. I fired up the food processor this morning. I think I added too much water to the dough, which made it way too sticky to roll out at first. I added a little more flour and re-rolled it successfully. I worried that the resulting crust would be too tough. I tucked the crust into my largest pie plate, poured in the filling, and let it bake while I did some work.
The result was tasty and not too cloyingly sweet. I’m still no pie crust expert, but it passed the test.
It won’t make the cover of Bon Appétit, but no matter.
Julian made a pot of borscht last night. He used a recipe out of Anya Von Bremzen’s Please to the Table. Borscht takes as many forms as there are Eastern European grandmas. There are light, summery borschts and heavy, wintery ones. This version was a hybrid. The broth wasn’t thick, but there were plenty of vegetables. The problem is, this recipe made A LOT of borscht and there are only two people to eat it. (Luka and Neli have no interest in beets.)
After dinner, it was time to make up the grocery list for the week. Julian came down with his proposed menu for the week:
The Texas Attorney General is suing the states of Michigan, Georgia, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin in an attempt to overturn their election results. Republican attorneys general from 17 other states have filed an amicus brief. Maybe Democratic attorneys general should sue Texas for some of the politicians it’s sent to Washington over the years.
I wrote a short story with this title when I was in 8th grade. The main character’s mother was highly adventurous in the kitchen. This was in contrast to my mother, who had to feed three finicky kids and didn’t dare cook outside the lines. I don’t remember the full story, but the last sentence was something to the extent that I expected squab to be on the menu the following year. Had I ever eaten squab (pigeon) at that time? Hell, no, and I still haven’t tried it.
Julian and I have done our share of Thanksgivings à deux over the years. Most of the time we’ve done turkeys. This year, however, we did duck. We were going to try a sheet pan deconstructed duck with sriracha and roasted fruit. I found the recipe in the Washington Post. We managed to find fresh figs – for a price. Unfortunately, the figs were compost and the duck didn’t thaw by Thursday morning. Back to the tried and true duck à l’orange.
As sides, I made dressing, fennel salad, cranberry-orange relish, and pumpkin pie. I wasn’t happy with how the pie turned out. It had too much clove, which drowned out the fresh ginger I’d grated into the filling.
Before dinner, we had a Zoom happy hour with the Seattle friends we usually gather with on the holiday. Our beverage at both happy hour and dinner was Château Ste. Michelle dry riesling. Even though it was a socially distanced holiday, we made it festive.
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