Archive for July 2008
This is a little tough to write.
I have the day off today, so I wanted to blog a bit about the
apricot jam I made the other day, the chocolate chip cookies that
finally (after 29 years of attempts) turned out right, the new pickle
recipe I found online, or the freaking kimchi recipe I promised forever
ago, but never got around to blogging.
But, today hasn’t turned out exactly as planned. Our poor little
Ginger is at the doggy hospital right now. She had two seizures this
morning, and they were really scary.
Sean came running to get me while I was putting on my makeup this
morning saying that there was something wrong with the Ginger. I ran
out into the living room to find her on her side, convulsing, her
little legs twitching and foaming at the mouth. It only lasted for a
couple of seconds, but it was awful. All I could do was hold her shaky
little body until it was over. She’s usually not very cuddly, but she
didn’t try to pull away from me at all; I think she was as scared as I
I called the vet, who told me they didn’t have any time to see her
today, and I should call the emergency vet. The emergency vet told me
it wasn’t a big deal, and most likely she wouldn’t have another
seizure, so I should just keep notes if she did.
So I watched her. She was shaky, and nervous. She couldn’t seem to
lay down. About three hours later she seized again, and we bundled her
up to take to the emergency vet.
The vet was really nice.
He watched little Ging run into the walls as she circled around the
examination room. She’s a circler, and we’ve taken to calling her
circling “sharking.” Our little “land shark.” It’s been a little joke
around the house, but it turns out that it’s not such a joke.
She’d run right into every wall before turning. I’ve been speculating for a few weeks that she couldn’t see. The vet agrees.
My mom just asked the other day if I thought something was really
wrong with her, to which I answered, “No. I think, like Helen used to
say about Diane, she’s just retarded.” We both laughed. I know
retarded is not a PC term. But Helen, a family friend, has a daughter
who is about Sean’s age. When Diane was still in the womb the
umbilical cord wrapped around her neck, and she was brain damaged.
Diane is mentally handicapped, but Helen is not one to bullshit anyone,
and tells everyone that Diane is retarded. She doesn’t mean to
offend. It’s just her truth.
Anyway, I thought it was just my truth that Ginger was retarded. I
love her all the same. She’s awkward, runs into things, she’s
unfriendly, and pretty much an all-around pain in the butt. But, I
love her anyway.
It turns out those pain in the butt things are probably a
neurological problem that can be found in pugs. We’re not sure if we’re
going to get to take her home tonight. But maybe.
Frank is bummed. Sean is bummed. And I’m certain that Ginger is
really bummed at the vet’s office instead of curled up next to Frank in
the living room.
So, here I am looking for pictures of my retarded dog.
I don’t have very many good ones. She always looked so awkward.
This is her looking at me awkwardly.
This is her NOT looking at me. She never can cooperate. Also, she
was licking the couch. See that wet spot there. She’s a couch licker.
What a weirdo! That’s also water on her back. She stands in the flow
of water being poured into her water bowl. I realize now it was
because she couldn’t see.
That’s her looking at me with one eye. Sean calls her “town and
country.” ‘Cause one eye’s looking to town and one eye’s looking to
I’m having a hard time, and trying to joke. But to be honest, I’m trying really hard not to cry.
OK, to be really honest, I’ve been crying most of the day.
I really hope she makes it home tonight.
Hmmmm…. some of my photos don’t seem to be loading, so I’m gonna have to try again after the camera charges.
Until then my pretties:
From Natalie Dee.
What’s been going on?
Ribs and potato salad. To make the ribs:
Wash and dry the ribs. Salt, pepper and red pepper flakes. Cook on the Webber with charcoal and wood until seared on the outside and smoky tasting (turn every 6 minutes or so, so you don’t burn the meat.) Throw into the oven, covered and smothered in BBQ sauce and then wrapped tight in heavy duty aluminium foil. Bake 3 hours at 250 F. The meat will literally fall off the bones.
I used a store bought BBQ sauce which is tasty, but then made the mistake of reading the ingredients while we were sitting at the kitchen table. High fructose corn syrup is not my favorite thing, and from now on we’ll be making our own BBQ sauce. I should have made some in the first place, but sometimes I’m just lazy.
Then there was this:
Pesto and salad before.
Pesto and salad after.
Tasty, tasty pesto.
I used to think that I didn’t like pesto, because it was something my Dad would buy at the store and toss with pasta when it was his turn to cook. Blech.
It’s a whole different beast when you go into your own garden and pick big bunches of basil leaves, grate some parmigiano reggiano, drizzle in some tasty local olive oil, mash up a lot of garlic cloves with a big knife, toss in a handful of toasted pine nuts, scrape the zest off a lemon and squeeze the fresh juice in, and then blitz it all up in your shiny food processor.
It was simple, quick and so delicious. The next night we made a pizza out of the leftover pesto, with onions, bell peppers, sausage, kalamata olives and fresh mozzerella. But I figured you were tired of seeing pizza pictures.
Speaking of things from our garden, here is a picture of the first little batch of tomatoes picked from the garden. Nothing tastes like a fresh-picked tomato. Farmer’s Market tomatoes are good, but not nearly as flavorful as a tomato still warm from the afternoon sunshine, and sprinkled with just a hint of crunchy salt. It’s going to be a beautiful summer. (Remember I said that next time I’m bitching about the hundred plus heat around here.)
I tried to keep my still bandaged finger out of the picture, but failed. Sorry. You don’t want to see what’s underneath that bandaid.
There’s an update coming on the kimchi (hint: it’s delicious,) but my camera’s dying, and I need some breakfast soon.
Have a great day.
The Beer Bitch
Uh… sorry I haven’t written lately. I noticed that you never call or write either though.
Whatevs. I guess it doesn’t matter who’s to blame, let’s just catch up on what’s been going on lately.
It’s been frakking hot here lately. It’s hard to cook when it’s 111 F outside. It makes me want to shove the kegerator down the creepy stairs of the creepy basement, and make friends with the spiders.
Speaking of the creepy basement, I took a picture for you.
It’s scary down there, but cool. Which makes it a good place to store my fermenting pickles and kimchi.
I can’t wait to try the kimchi. Firstly, because kimchi is delicious. Secondly, because I sorta made up the recipe as I went along, which could be especially distastrous. I’ll give you the deets if things work out. It should be ready to eat tomorrow. (My lack of being able to follow recipe instructions is 100% of the reason I am a terrible baker. I have switched to using a scale to weigh my dry ingredients, which has helped some.)
Garlic, olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper. Cook ’til done at 450 F. Should take about 30-40 minutes. Those brown, seared bits are the best part.
We also made some spaghetti one night when I got home late. Let me give you the recipe:
Marcella Hazan’s Tomato Sauce
One can of San Marzano tomotoes smooshed up with your hands (WASH YOUR HANDS FIRST)
One onion cut in half, remove the skin
5 ounces of butter
Salt to taste
Simmer 45 minutes over medium low heat; which is about as long as it takes to boil the water for the noodles. Throw out the onion. Toss a pound of cooked spaghetti in the sauce.
I kid you not, this sauce will blow your mind. SO SIMPLE. SO GOOD. Make this as soon as possible. And whatever you do, don’t fuck around with it and use olive oil instead of butter, or add garlic and other spices. Make it just the way I said to. You’ll be happy you followed instructions when you’re licking the bottom of the plate to get up every last tasty bit of buttery, oniony, savory sauce. Also, the onion doesn’t taste very good, so don’t be tempted to chop it up and mix it into the sauce. I’m only warming you because I have made all these mistakes myself already, and regretted every one.
There were some other meals, some were repeats and not worth mentioning, but I might save some for later. You see, last night, while I was chopping up some toppings for another pizza I sliced straight through the top of my finger, through the nail, and I’m assuming right into the bone. So, I have a mighty pain today, and Sean is laughing at me as I type away at my little laptop with my index finger sticking straight up in the air.
So, I may not be doing any cooking for a few days. But, that’s not the say that Sean won’t be cooking, because we are cheap, and reclusive, and rarely eat out because it’s so much cheaper and easier to cook at home. Also, we have beer here, and are finding it harder and harder to come up with reasons to go anywhwere but the Farmer’s Market, Trader Joe’s and the Firestone Walker for kegs.
Speaking of which, a beer might ease this pain in my throbbing, still bleeding little finger.
I’m gonna go have a beer and some pain killers.
We’ll have to talk about you next time.
The Beer Bitch