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Certain foods that I prepare remind me of specific people. Yesterday, I made corn chowder for lunch. It wasn’t my usual corn chowder I learned how to make more than 25 years ago, it was yesterday’s version.  

The longer I cook the more I can branch off the solid core recipes I learned. In the beginning, I wasn’t one of those people who could just open their fridge and make a five-course meal with whatever they found. When the Food Networks show Chopped first came on I remember thinking I could never do that. 

Most of the contestants are chefs or professional cooks. They are each given a basket full of random ingredients that they have to make a cohesive meal out of. They can use basic pantry items to help, but the show puts some wacky ingredients in the baskets. They are giving away $10,000, so it should be challenging, especially for chefs.

My boys would say, “ You should go on Chopped.” The thought was scary, here we go…back to me not wanting to look stupid or to be embarrassed if I made something less than perfect or even good. I was sure I would have choked on camera and would be the first one eliminated.

When the contestants would open their baskets, I would pause the tv and say out loud in under 20 seconds what I would make. More times than not one of them would make what I said. I got better and better at it.

Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve come along way. I have no desire to be on Chopped now because it just isn’t challenging to me anymore. 

Ok, back to my corn chowder. My usual one is a quick and simple Betty Crocker recipe. I really taught myself how to cook using my Betty Crocker cookbook, then graduated to “The Joy of Cooking.”

The Betty Crocker recipe uses pantry ingredients so it can be prepared any time of the year. “Real” corn chowder recipes use corn on the cob, celery, onions, bacon, stock, potatoes, and lots of heavy cream.

Betty’s recipe uses canned creamed corn, bacon, celery, onions, flour or in my case potato starch, potatoes, and milk.

After my last severe ulcerative colitis flare-up 2 years ago I have been following a strict low residue diet. This type of diet eliminates hard to digest things like nuts, seeds, certain types of raw fruits and vegetables, and certain legumes. I miss popcorn the most.

When I make my chowder I put the creamed corn into the blender and blitz the heck out of it. This makes it not only edible for me, but it is also is a great natural thickener. If I was having company I would take some out of the pot for me, then put either fresh or canned corn kernels into the chowder for texture for everyone else. I love corn so much that I just appreciate having the flavor of it.

Yesterday, I only had maple bacon, which I bought by mistake. As I was making the soup I decided to use sweet potatoes instead of yellow potatoes like I usually use.

I thought the sweet potatoes would go nicely with the maple. I added a dash of cayenne pepper and lots of chopped green onions. It was delicious and a nice change from my usual version. I actually think it was better, I will be making it this way again for sure. 

Whenever I start a pot of corn chowder I think of my good friend Patti, Noah, my son’s Godmother. I also think about a couple of her visits to Vermont.

The first time Patti came to visit she brought her younger sister Meg with her. I love Meg and knew we all would have a really fun time. We had just moved to Vermont so hanging out with other Jersey girls was going to be awesome! I missed these guys and was homesick.

The next morning after Meg took her shower she came running into the living room so excited. “Oh my God! I love the water up here in Vermont!  My hair never came out so good!” We were crying laughing, not at her, but that we knew exactly what she meant. She got the most height and volume of her “big hair.” Good hair days are a big deal! They still are to me.

The next time Patti visited she came with her husband Ken. As soon as we made plans I immediately started thinking of some things I would cook. I needed some go-to recipes that were quick, easy, and delicious. Noah was not quite two years old yet, so the dishes needed to be recipes I could bang out during his nap time.

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They came on the Friday of Columbus Day weekend. I wanted to make a couple of seasonal things so I made corn chowder and an apple pie. I also made my famous tomato tart that I made whenever somebody visited. The rest of the food I figured we could wing over the weekend. I cleaned like a madwoman all week during Noah’s nap times, I wanted everything to be perfect. Really now? Imagine that! 😂

On a Friday afternoon, after Noah got up from his nap I put on his favorite show Blue’s Clues, and gave him a snack. “Noah, Aunt Patti, and Uncle Ken will be here soon. “Mommy is going to take a shower and get ready.” I knew I had about 22 minutes to get it all done.

When I was toweling off I thought I heard something downstairs. I quickly threw my clothes on and went to investigate what he was getting into.  

When I came down the stairs there was an older couple sitting on our couch and Noah was sitting on the lady’s lap eating his snack.

What the actual fuckity was happening here? I was so confused I could barely put words together to form sentences. I think I forgot how to speak English. I was in such shock. “Um can I help you?” was all I could get out. 

The woman smiled and said, “We are here to check-in. What a lovely home you have and it smells wonderful in here.” I had no idea what she was talking about. Her husband said, “I hope you don’t mind, but your son showed us where our room was, I put our bags in there.” Huh?

“What an adorable little boy you have, we weren’t expecting children, but he’s darling.” She told me. 

With that, I realized they were staying at The Mero House, a seasonal bed and breakfast during foliage across the street from our house. 

I explained to them their mistake and pointed diagonally across the street. They were so embarrassed, but I reassured them it was an easy mistake to make and it was totally fine.

The husband went into our guest room and retrieved their bags. As he walked past the now cool pie on the dining room table he told me how disappointed he was that he wouldn’t be eating all the delicious food he smelled, “Especially that pie!” We all laughed. 

After they left to check-in across the street I was completely rattled. How in God’s name could I let that happen? How could I be so stupid to leave our front door open for anyone to come in?

Noah asked where those people went. I explained to him what happened and he immediately said, “I’m not a good boy?” Sadly a chip off the old block like me.

I tried to not make a big deal about it, he had no reason to think he did anything wrong. He was just being a “big helper.” I told him he was a good boy, mommy was wrong leaving the front door unlocked. Just for the record, no one locked their doors in Vermont. We did of course at night, but not during the day. Back then everyone left their keys in the ignition of their cars & trucks too. I don’t think we ever did.

I took a second to talk about letting strangers in, next time come and get mommy. I went back upstairs to finish getting ready, Patti and Ken arrived a few minutes later. We had a big laugh over what happened.  When Marty got home from work I was no longer feeling like the worst mother in the world.

We had a fun weekend being tourists, eating all the food I made, and drank lots of wine. The next time I saw Patti for an extended time was when my father passed away unexpectantly when we were visiting for Easter. Noah was almost five and I wasn’t in any shape to worry about him and my mother, plus I was 5 months pregnant with Sam.

Patti came to the rescue and took care of Noah for me. She had her own family and life but dropped everything to help. The whole thing is still a complete blur, I don’t think I really ever told her how much I needed her, she just knew. My dad loved her and I know he was happy she was taking care of his “Noah-guy.”

It was a few very long and exhausting days, a really tough time, and Patti made it possible that Marty and I could take care of making all the arrangements with my mother and not worry about him at all.

I texted Patti yesterday and asked if I could write about her and Ken and if she remembers anything else. She quickly typed back, “ I just remember the corn chowder and that tomato tart.” She also reminded me about Meg and her best hair day ever.

I smiled from ear to ear, I was so happy that my food was a good food memory for Patti! Marty and I laughed remembering how excited Meg was that morning and what a good time we had whenever they came up.

Patti and I do keep in touch, she is the type of friend that even if we don’t talk for a year, we can pick up exactly where our last conversation ended. We really need to get together after this pandemic bullshit is over. Life got busy when our kids were growing up and we haven’t seen each other for years and years. This is the reason why Facebook is a great thing. We still got to watch each other’s kids grow up, including Meg’s daughters as well.

I honestly didn’t expect this piece to suddenly turn sad, but the words came out when I started writing about my friendship with Patti and knew they needed to be included.

Writing this piece also made me wonder if that older couple had a nice weekend and if they thought of us when they reminisced about their stay in Arlington. I also wondered if the husband was able to track down some apple pie. Dammit, now I want apple pie.

Last week my newsfeed on Facebook and Instagram started getting flooded with sexy lingerie ads, gifts and recipes. Every other scroll there is another one. This morning I woke up and saw on our Alexa screen “Top 20 trending recipes for Valentine’s Day.”

Before I really get going on this I want to acknowledge that some people really look forward to Valentine’s Day. Many people get married and celebrate their anniversaries on February 14th. I think that if it’s your thing, you have every reason to enjoy it.

I want to talk about what how I feel about Valentine’s Day. With almost all of our other American holidays, none make many people feel so left out, lonely, depressed and miserable.

On St. Patrick’s Day everyone is Irish and can celebrate it. I hated not knowing my nationalities and my mother made is worse every year by saying, “Don’t worry you can wear green today, everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day.” Well thanks so much!

Next the Christians have Easter and the jewish people have Passover. On Memorial Day & Veteran’s Day we remember those who died for or served/are serving our country.

Halloween is considered a pagan holiday, but anyone can dress up, go trick or treating or give out candy. The people who feel like its the devils holiday have All Saints Day the following day.

Thanksgiving, everyone can be thankful for something, no matter how small it may be.

Finally the Christians have Christmas and the jewish people have Hanukah.

New Years is celebrated by the world, hoping for a wonderful new year. I know I left out other nationalities and what they celebrate, but they celebrate! That’s my point.

I noticed how Valentine’s Day made me feel early on. I hated that Charlie Brown didn’t get many Valentine’s like everyone else. I hated even more that in my own classrooms some kids didn’t get as many cards as others. I knew they were disappointed. I gave everyone a card, even if I didn’t like them. 😉

Valentine’s Day is a commercial holiday that retail stores, florists, card manufacturers, restaurants, and jewelry stores cash in on big time. There is so much pressure on people to give nice gifts to show how much they love someone.

Over the last ten years on social media people post their gifts. I am shocked and blown away by what people gave and received. I am not jealous, I am dumbfounded!

I am also amazed how many people want to go out for a romantic dinner. Remember this is me talking here…why would you want to go to an overcrowded restaurant that is serving a limited price gouged menu? Why would you want to be eat a meal that is being hurried along so they can turn over your table. It’s amateur night, just like going out for an expensive New Year’s Eve dinner.

Looking at so many of my friends on Facebook who post such sad posts on Valentine’s Day makes me feel like I am in the third grade again and watching everyone look in their paper mailboxes and pull out their Valentine’s Day cards.

This year especially Valentine’s Day will be extra tough for all the folks that have lost someone. I am dreading the day for my friend who lost his wife last year. It will be the last “first” since her death in March. The four of us ate together twice a week, every week. On Valentine’s Day, we ate together and enjoyed some wine and a lot of laughs, but nothing more special than all our other dinners together.

I have had a “valentine” since 1985. To us, we love each other every day. We show our love by the way we treat each other all year. I make beautiful dinners all year, I don’t have to be guilted into making a lobster or fillet mignon just because it’s Valentine’s Day.

The commercial push of products and that so may people get sucked into makes me want to scream. I am not condemning people who want to give their love some flowers, take them to dinner or just get them a nice card. I am condemning how people get taken advantage of and pressured into doing things they don’t want to do or more importantly can’t afford to do.

Happy Valentine’s Day. Don’t get sucked in. Wait to go out for a delicious dinner another night where you will get better food and service. Surprise you partner with a bouquet of flowers on another day, just out of the blue. If you want to be romantic, be romantic whenever you feel like it. Call or check in with someone alone and have a little compassion for your single friends that are reminded how alone they are and sick of everyone’s drippy, rub it in photos and gifts.

One thing you will learn about me is that I think about things long after they have happened. I often revisit things. I could have, would have , should have…bla, bla, bla.

After writing my piece about driving in the snow today, I realize that I left out the most important part of that story. I danced around the truth. Why? Why am I so afraid of driving in the snow. When did this happen? Why did it happen? I thought about it and can I share some honest reason why I think I am afraid of driving in the snow?

Why am I afraid? I am sure that this question has many answers. I am sure this fear thing has happened in other situations. Why am I thinking about it? Because it’s high time I face the truth.

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Famous words from JFK. Truthful words. Words to be afraid of, or not.

When I sat down and started thinking about why I am afraid of driving in the snow the first thing that came to mind was what was the worst thing that could happen to me if I drove in the snow and got into an accident?

Getting hurt or injured came to mind, but I don’t think that’s really it. Driving on a beautiful day is when many horrific, deadly accidents happen. This I know from rescue squad calls.

Wrecking my car. Yes, it would be a total ass-ache to have my car towed, making an accident report, contacting my insurance company, renting a car while mine is being repaired. While these are things that would make being in an accident inconvenient, I am not sure that is it either.

Was I ever in a snow driving incident? Yes, the first-year winter we lived here in VT. One of the first snowy days I slid off the road close to where we lived. I was on my way to my new job in Rutland, VT.

We lived in South Londonderry and the commute was beautiful in the summer when I interviewed for the job. The ride was gorgeous during foliage. The ride was on a road that had no traffic, no lights, no anything. It was one of the last roads to be plowed. I found out the hard way.

I slid off the road and my Jersey car couldn’t get out. I felt like a typical idiot Jersey person that just moved here. A total flatlander as we are called. Marty and our landlord were both at work. There were no telephone booths, stores, or anywhere I could get help. I was dressed to work in an office with totally inappropriate shoes and clothing.

Within moments of my slide off a big pickup truck showed up. A guy jumped out and immediately got under my car checking out the situation. He got a tow rope out of the bed of his truck and started pulling my car back onto the road.

While I was watching him I knew I didn’t have any cash on me. How was I going to pay him? Was he going to be mad if I couldn’t pay him, will he kill me, yell at me, beat me to a pulp? Remember I just came from previously working in NYC and living in NJ.

I thanked him and started to tell him I didn’t have any money on me but I would…he stopped me mid-sentence. He said, “If my wife slid off the road I would want someone to help her. All I ask is to pay it forward.” He got into his truck and that was that.

When Marty and I saw each other after work I told him what happened. I told him what the guy said. He took what the man said about paying it forward more seriously than I could have imagined. Marty has helped hundreds of people both on his personal time and responding with an ambulance.

One idea that popped into my head while I was thinking about this fear was deep-rooted. I know that you can’t blame stuff on your childhood for everything, but was I on to something?

As I mentioned at the beginning of my blogging journey I wrote that I always felt like I had to do everything well. I was adopted and always felt like I had a debt to repay. I needed to show how much I appreciated my parents. I was God’s gift to my parents who wanted a baby, I better act like a gift. A perfect gift, the start of my perfectionism.

Of course, I learned through therapy that my need for perfectionism was real, but that I was being manipulated with it. I felt guilty if I made a mistake or didn’t do my best. No wonder I have been dealing with severe ulcerative colitis since my early teens.

My parents would praise me if I did good, but was it ever good enough? I only found out a couple of years ago that nothing that I ever did was good enough. That’s where the manipulation comes into play along with perfectionism and guilt trips.

What the hell does this have to do with me being afraid the drive in the snow? Could it be that I would feel embarrassed again if I had an accident? What if it was my fault? What if I killed someone? What if I made someone’s life harder because I damaged their car? What if they couldn’t get to their job? Pay their rent if they couldn’t work, left their children an orphan? Wow! Reading it back I am thinking…this is some fucked up shit. No wonder I’ve been in therapy!

Was this the reason? I think it could be. Will I always be afraid to drive in the snow? Yes. What can I do about it? Well, I will tell you this, I won’t be driving in the snow tomorrow just to prove a point to myself.

Is it ok to be afraid of things? To fear things? Is it a sign of weakness? I have spent years building up a tough layer of protection. A defense if you will. How can I admit I am not good at something? What if I let someone down? What if I let myself down? Will this fear be used against me? Can I be manipulated with this fear?

I don’t have the answers to those questions. I’ve always thought of myself as a somewhat fearless, confident person. Since writing this blog I have admitted a few very honest things that were hard to say, let alone tell the world. It seems like my fear of failure could be the root of it. Maybe if I keep acknowledging my fears and failures I can heal and move forward.

Was I really fine today? No. Definitely not!

I love what one of my readers commented, “It’s fine until it isn’t, driving and the rest of life.”

The definition of the word fine according to Merriam-Webster means several things.

Alright – That’s fine with me.
Well or healthy: not sick or injured – I feel fine.
Superior in kind, quality, or appearance – A fine job, a fine day, fine wines.
Very thin in gauge or texture – Fine thread, fine sand, fine print, fine edge of a knife, fine judgment.
Delicate, subtle, or sensitive in quality, perception, or discrimination – Fine distinction, fine writing, fine manners.

This one I added on my own. If you ever have an argument with a woman and she says, “fine” you should worry. It means the total opposite of fine. “Whatever” is an even bigger one to worry about. Whatever is a nice way of saying “fuck it I am done!” 🤬. That is a whole separate blog post though.

I must have heard the word “fine” 10 times already this morning. I wanted to head over to Cambridge, NY to pick up a few necessary things at Walgreens and drop off a thank you gift I made for my friends Maria & Jon for all their help with my blog.

Just as I was getting ready to leave, I looked outside and it was snowing, again. The roads were just slightly covered and I said, “Dammit! It’s snowing!” Marty replied, “You’ll be fine.”

My fear of driving in the snow goes back at least 25 years. I hate driving in the first place but put snow, sleet, or freezing rain into the mix and it is almost paralyzing to me. It’s not so much that I am worried about myself since we’ve had always had vehicles or tires that are good in the snow. It’s those overconfident assholes that are going way too fast. They are either passing cars, fishtailing, or up my ass.

Many people don’t know that just a dusting of snow can be more slippery than a couple of inches. In addition, you can’t see what’s lurking under the snow. Our driveway is a sheet of ice under the dusting of snow. I almost went down coming out our back door.

Then there is this little gem out there that is supposed to help people remember how to drive in snowy conditions, “White you are alright, brown slow down.” They are referring to packed white snow as opposed to a brown slushy mess.

“Why the hell do you live in VT if you don’t like snow?” “It’s the other three seasons that I love, thank you very much.” Everyone who chooses to live in the Green Mountain State doesn’t have to like winter or cold weather outdoor activities. Ca-peech? Being said in my best Jersey accent.

Capisce?” is American pseudo-Italian slang for “understand?” and functions rather like “know what I mean?” In Italian this form would be used only in a formal setting; the typically casual American-style contexts would require capischi.

Back to my trip to Cambridge. “Your vehicle is great in the snow,” Marty told me. He would know because he used our delivery van with studded snow tires for 500-mile delivery loops in the winter for the first two years of our business.

Keeping that in mind I got to Walgreens, which is a 20-minute ride on main roads. The NY roads were better than the Vermont ones, hardly covered at all.

I did my shopping and when I was checking out, it was snowing like a bastard and even Route 22 was covered. Well, Jon and Maria only live a few miles up Route 22, I would be “fine” I told myself.

Maria was surprised that I drove in the snow. I told her that our van is “fine” in the snow since we have studded tires. I did share with her that I was out of my comfort zone.

I asked Maria how Jon was doing, he had an accident on Friday. Oh, he’s “fine.” I asked, “Is he really “fine,” or is that what he is saying?” She said no he wasn’t injured at all even though the accident was terrifying almost rolling his car into a water-filled ravine. Only one tire and some rocks saved the car from rolling over. Thank God he is ok and had so many community members come to his immediate aid. Small town living perk for sure.

We only chatted for a few minutes because I was getting more and more anxious about my ride back to Arlington.

As I made my way home I didn’t take any of my usual shortcuts to Route 313, I stayed on Route 22. Right at the intersection of 22 & 313, there was an accident. There were lots of cars and emergency vehicles. I was able to turn left onto 313 and continue my way home.

The rescue squad radio in the van kept reporting of cars off the roads and accidents galore. Marty has been an EMT on Arlington Rescue since 2000, along with our son Sam who joined when he was 14. There are radios in all our vehicles and rooms of our house.

I could feel myself begin to tighten up and I was getting more and more nervous. “Dammit, Julz you are fine!” Then this piece started writing itself in my head. I realized as I was almost home that getting my mind off of driving in the snow and writing instead made the ride “fine.”

When I got home I told Marty the roads were bad. “No, they weren’t, they were fine and so were you,” “Oh really you don’t say,” I asked him if he heard all the accidents on the rescue squad radios. He said he didn’t. We have a hundred radios all over the place, and he didn’t have one to listen to? “Fine,” I thought.

So what I realized is one person’s fine is completely different from another person’s, even in the same situation. This is especially when someone is drunk off their ass and they say, “I’m fine!” The more they try to convince others, the drunker they are.

The roads may be fine if you have the proper vehicle and tires, but not to someone cruising around in bald tires, the worse part is they don’t even realize it and think they are “fine.”

Death Valley is a spot in Arlington that is named that for that very reason. It is always in the shade so nothing melts, it is curvy and hilly. We all know to take it easy when going through the area, but out of state drivers don’t slow down, think about black ice, or braking. They usually end up in an accident. The roads weren’t “fine” for them in those conditions since they didn’t know about them, but was”fine” for the locals.

I still hate driving in the snow. I still hate when someone says the roads are fine. That being said Marty was right, I was “fine”. My trip back to VT did get me thinking that it could just be mind over matter. That’s “fine!”

We have been addicted to the broadway sensation Hamilton for a couple of years and have watched it dozens of times since it came out on Disney Plus on July 3, 2020. Currently, we are watching a Netflix series called Bridgeton.

Hamilton takes place during the Revolutionary War era through the early 1800s. Bridgerton takes place in the early 1800s, almost picking up where Hamilton left off, but in England.

We were listening to the original Broadway soundtrack of Hamilton for a long time, not knowing how they actually did the scenes in the play. It was hard to imagine how they did battles and flashbacks, but after seeing it, everything made sense and fell into place.

The courtship of Alexander Hamilton and Eliza Schuyler was very fast. It seemed like they were only courting for 2 weeks and they were married. This confused me for sure since I knew nothing about courting in the 1700s.

When we watched Bridgeton, the courtship between two people was rather short as well. The point was to get married. The couple wasn’t allowed any hankie pankie at all or it would disgrace the woman and her family.

Courtship or calling was a family affair, callers meant heirs, property, and happiness, and ultimately marriage. Prospective men, callers were determined by land, status, and wealth. Marriages had to be approved by the family. Not very romantic that’s for sure. It was more of a business transaction for two families instead of two people becoming man and wife.

Dating came about in the 1900s. Women were free to choose with whom they wanted to spend time with. The word dating refers to filling one’s datebook. Makes sense right? The mid-century term, “going steady”meant the couple who had been dating are now dating exclusively.

Speaking of mid-century a couple of my favorite tv shows when I was a kid were Happy Days and Laverne & Shirley which took place in the 1950s, along with the movie Grease.

I never really knew when I was 10 or eleven why all the guys wanted to do was neck and go to inspiration point. Laverne & Shirley were two friends that were also roommates living on their own without men. Shirley had a boyfriend The Big Ragu, but I don’t think they ever married.

In Grease I knew there was more of that necking stuff, and could recite “A hickey from Kenickie is like a Hallmark card when you care enough to send the very best.” I didn’t know what a hickey really was, but if it was coming from Kenickie it must have been good because I thought he was cute.

When I was in grammar school I remember we would write notes to boys and asking them if they liked so and so. Please check the following box the note would say. Check yes or no. Crystal clear directions just in case they couldn’t figure it out.

In high school, dating was called going out with someone. My father couldn’t grasp the concept that I was going out with someone, but we didn’t go anywhere. I explained it to him a hundred times. “Daddy, I was just seeing so and so, but now we are going out.” This was dating and going steady in his era the 50s.

Men and women started off calling each other beautiful, handsome, cute, pretty, gorgeous, a hottie, a fox. In our high school JFK we called people we found attractive a “burger!” I think that our town of Iselin and maybe Colonia was the only place on earth to call someone a burger. “Oh check him out, he’s a total burger.” You just can’t make this shit up! I have no idea who started it, but it stayed around for a couple of years.

I met Marty and we dated, went out, were seeing each other, going steady for 4 years before we got married. He indeed asked my father for permission. Marty was probably one of the only guys my father ever liked. I knew he liked him when he started calling him Mart.

I wasn’t allowed to go out if someone just honked the horn. They had to come in and meet my dad. It was torturous for me, especially when I wasn’t allowed to go because my father didn’t approve.

He had many reasons why he didn’t approve of someone. His shoelace was untied, he was chewing gum, he had some stupid thing on his head. “Daddy, it’s a bandana!” “I don’t give a shit what it is, you aren’t going with him.” Didn’t he know the lead singer from the band Loverboy wore one just like it? Dating was tough business in our house.

Since then dating has changed a lot. You don’t even have to go on actual dates anymore.

You know someone is dating these days because they change their Facebook status to “in a relationship.” When people break up, everyone once again knows, because their status goes back to “single.” I think they took away the optional status “it’s complicated.”

“Friends with benefits” was a friend that you could have an occasional and casual sexual relationship with. This is different from “hooking up” which is a one-time-only thing with someone new.

“Netflix & chill” is a slang term for two people going to each other’s houses and having straight-up sex or just some sexual related acts. It took parents a long time to figure out what the code word was for.

These days guys and girls are talking. I have a younger friend at my farmer’s markets and thought it was amusing when my buddy said to me right out of the blue, “Yea, I’m talking to this girl.” I was like that’s cool. ” I want a girl to date, a girl that wants a man around, a girl to fall in love with like you and your husband.” “I really want to date and go places. I don’t want to hook up even though that’s what most of them want.”

I am smiling while I am typing this because my buddy is the nicest guy, handsome, great personality, caring, spiritual and funny. I told him that she was out there, he will find that special someone when the time was right. He is only 27, he still had plenty of time. And this girl? She will be one lucky girl…but for now, they are just talking. I haven’t seen him for a few weeks I wonder if they are still talking?

My father never would have been able to figure that one out, he would say “how the hell much stuff can you talk about?” 😂

I’ve been writing this piece in my head for years.  When I took over as the school lunch director at the Arlington, VT school district I took my job very seriously. 

I started my position a few weeks before the opening day of school, cleaning, organizing, and planning my menus. I never did this type of job before so I had a lot to learn. I was lucky that I had Marty who was a school lunch director for 20+ years at that point to help guide me with all the regulations and guidelines I had to follow.

As I was cleaning I found a black and white composition notebook that had fallen back behind one of the drawers of a filing cabinet. It said Hot Lunch 1946-1947. This was an amazing discovery! A piece of Arlington history.   It gave me a chance to see what Mrs. Keough & Mrs. Ouhl served every day which was perfect timing since I was in the middle of menu planning.

As I started looking through the notebook I couldn’t believe how much information they kept track of! From the menus, quantities of ingredients used. How many students ate that day, how many milks they sold. Exactly who worked and how much their payroll cost each day. 

They did weekly and monthly summaries. Wow! This was all the stuff I was learning from Marty. I felt connected to these women who did my job 60 years before me, in the same building. 

Lunch was still served in the high school back then, it later moved across the street to the new elementary school. The newly built elementary school had a brand new fancy kitchen which I am sure was an improvement to the old one that served K-12 up until that point.

Dino was one of my buddies at school. He was a history teacher. He came in almost as early as I did in the mornings and bought a coffee and a muffin from me every day. Every day for 7 years! We had some great discussions and got to know each other pretty well while I was doing food prep and he ate.  He was everyone’s favorite cool teacher and soccer coach.

One day Dino told me about the lunch lady when he went to school right here in Arlington. He told me that everyone called her “No Way Mae.” He got a big smile on his face when he started telling me about her.

He told me that he and his classmates walked from the high school down to the elementary school where lunch was served. He also told me something that didn’t surprise me, he brought his lunch from home every day and had school lunch.

When Dino and his classmates went through the lunch line they would ask Mae if they could have seconds. Dino said she would  bellow out in a harsh raspy voice, “No way!!”

He said the kids in the dining area would crack up when they heard her voice bellowing through the hallways. 

Halloween is my favorite holiday. It’s the one holiday that the only thing anyone excepted from me was candy. I loved to dress up, it was the one day a year you could be whoever you wanted to be with no questions asked.

One year I decided to dress up as No Way Mae.  I got my costume from a thrift store at a senior center along with some uncomfortable shoes. I borrowed a wig from the theater department at school. I made a big padded butt and bought a color lipstick my grandmother wore. 

I didn’t tell anyone who I was going to be. I wanted it to be a surprise.  On Halloween, I dropped my kids off at school and quickly came back home to put on my costume.  I had to really bust my ass the day before to prep everything I needed for breakfast and lunch. 

The school had a Halloween parade in the gymnasium. All the students and teachers who dressed up would walk around in a circle after Mr. C the principal addressed the students and faculty. 

I snuck into the gym as Mae and stood off to the side where no one really saw me.  When he called everyone to participate in the parade I began to make my way across the gym floor.  

I walked hunched over like a tired old lunch lady.  It took me forever to join the circle. I knew everyone was watching me thinking who the heck is that? I found out later that neither of my sons had any idea it was me.  😂

I stayed in character all day. I even wiped the sloppy Joe we were having that day all over my apron on purpose. I told everyone “No way!” It was by far one of the best Halloween’s ever.

I really connected with Mae.  She and I leaned over the same counter serving lunches 30 years apart. We probably made some of the same dishes. Hell, the equipment and cookware were probably around in her day too. As a matter of fact, I am sure they were.

I have not spoken to Dino for quite a long time but texted him last night and asked him if I could ask a few questions about No Way Mae. He shot back a text and said sure ask away. Then I said can I call you way too much typing. LOL

I asked him to tell me the story again about No Way Mae. I wanted to make sure I remembered the story correctly. He added last night that her name was Mae DeBlock. She worked with another older lunch lady named Charlena Hilliard. He said he remembered those two in the kitchen for as long as he was in school. 

I could tell he was smiling as he was reminiscing about his school days with Mae. He did his best impression of Mae bellowing out “No way!l. He told me that sometimes the kids would keep their forks for a few days and not return them to the dirty dish bin.  They liked getting a rise out of her. 

I wonder what Mrs. Keogh, Mrs. Ouhl, Mrs. Hilliard, or Mae DeBlock would have thought about me as a lunch lady? I’m sure that they never would have expected a lunch lady to have both arms tattooed. I am sure they couldn’t imagine any woman having a tattoo, let alone one with her nose and upper lip pierced and…was a belly dancer.

I think that if they could’ve gotten over all of those things they would’ve seen that I was so much like them. I loved those kids and took great pride in feeding them good food that was made with love. I had the privilege to watch them grow up and turn into young ladies and men, just like the lunch ladies that came before me did.

Whenever I hear those words, “Don’t try this at home” it’s the first thing that I want to do! Now I am not a complete moron but would try some really dumb things. I have to admit I have pulled some really stupid stunts in my day.

When I was a kid around 4 or 5 I got my hand caught in a mousetrap. My father was working nights so my mother ran me down to the neighbor’s house for the man of the household to get it off me. It really hurt. I can still remember how much. The next morning my mother told me to tell my father what I had done. That was worse than the actual mousetrap.

That summer I jumped off the deck railing of a house in the Poconos attempting to do a backward summersault in the air. The next thing I knew I was on the deck trying to breathe. I knocked the air out of myself. I scared the daylights out of my parents. All the way back to NJ my father kept saying, “She’s lucky she didn’t break her neck!” or asking me “What the hell was I thinking?” I cried the whole way home but came out unscathed.

The following year, I found my father’s pipe and blew into the barrel containing the already smoked tobacco. I loved the smell of his pipe tobacco when he smoked it. I also liked the way the tobacco smelled in the plastic pouch it came it. As far as blowing in it, I don’t know why I did it, but I remember sitting on the floor of the living room pulling this trick. Pieces of tobacco got into both of my eyes.

My dad was home alone with me, my mother was out. He took a matchbook out and I panicked thinking he was going to set my eyes on fire. He took off a few of the paper matches and separated the bottoms of each match, splitting it in half. Then he licked it, told me to hold still, and got the tobacco out of both of my eyes.

When it was all over with he told me whatever I did, just don’t tell your mother! So I never did. He and I had many incidents over the years that my mother didn’t know about. My father on the other hand was always given the rundown of my behavior the second he walked into the house. “Wait until your father gets home!” was real in our house.

I went to Catholic school and you were supposed to go to mass every Sunday not only like good Catholics were supposed to, but because I went to Catholic School. You HAD to go since all the school news, schedules, or lunch menu were in the bulletin, you had to have a bulletin for the things you needed to know for the upcoming week.

My folks adopted a second child and my mother wouldn’t take the new baby to mass. I say a second child because that was all this person ever was to me. Always referred to me as the other child they adopted. I was nine years older and can’t remember having any kind of a relationship or even having one legit conversation with this person. I haven’t seen this second child since my father’s funeral in 2000 and that is okie dokie with me.

Back to the mass thing. It became my dad’s job to take me to church, bring the donation envelope and make sure we got a bulletin. My dad and I went to mass once. My dad also went to Catholic school and was an altar boy for years, until he got caught drinking the wine. Lol! Then my dad came up with the ultimate plan.

My dad and I would go for a ride, then he would park in front of the church after mass began. He sent me into the church and told me to give the usher man our donation envelope and ask him for a bulletin. It worked! It was easy. The usher man always gave me a wink and a smile. We had that coveted bulletin and I knew what days I was going to eat at school or bring cold lunch from home. I also knew when school picture day was coming up, a very big deal because you could wear your regular clothes and not our uniforms. After I ran back to the car we went to a diner for breakfast and my father warned me to not tell my mother. Why would I? This was the best!

My dad and I went about this Sunday arrangement for a long time. It got nerve-wracking some Mondays because one of the nuns would ask me a question about Sunday’s homily. Being able to think on my feet I always had reasonable enough answer.

My mother never found out and still doesn’t know about our Sunday morning shenanigans and breakfasts out. We usually ended up at a donut shop since my father loved a good jelly donut and a cup of coffee.

Now back to today. I took one for the team. Remember how I offered myself up to be a guinea pig and try out the Japanese Towel trick? It was going well. I looked forward to laying in Otto’s spot on the heated bathroom floor and covered myself with my heated towel. I set the alarm for five minutes and settled into the position. I started to meditate and it made the five minutes seem like thirty seconds.

Remember this towel thing started as a way to help people with back pain. It was supposed to realign the pelvis. The instructions for the towel exercise tell you when you are done to sit up evenly and slowly. Do not make any jerking movements. I was very careful since I’ve had lots of back issues in the past.

Last night I sat up carefully and stood up and wouldn’t you know my back was jacked! Are you kidding me? Dammit was then followed by a slew of more curse words. It wasn’t nearly as bad as times when my back “went out,”, but enough for it to hurt.

During the night I had to get up 4 or 5 times to put on more Ben Gay. I took a super hot shower this morning and it didn’t do shit. I actually thought for a second to do the towel trick again and maybe it would fix itself.

After a morning of being uncomfortable, I decided to do things my way. I went out to our inversion table in the gym and hung there in pain. Then I heard a bunch of cracking sounds coming from my back. I got myself out of the contraption and came back into the house. I mixed myself a strong ass Bloody Mary with lots of horseradish, Worcestershire sauce & celery salt.

I just took a couple of Tylenol and going to take a nap. I can already feel my back relaxing and think I may have fixed myself playing chiropractor again. I am great at fixing sciatic pain when that bothers me, so why not this too? I know my body well enough to know what works and what doesn’t. I also know when I am in trouble and need professional help.

It’s a couple hours later. I took a short nap and laid in bed doing some research for a piece I am getting ready to write. My back is a lot better. Better enough that I was going to go out and walk on the treadmill, but dinner needs to be started.

We made omelets this morning. I made mine first trying to get it as perfect as I could. Then I watched Marty make his. As I was watching him while I was eating, I started thinking about this blog post.

Now I know when some people read this, they are going to say, ”Oh my goodness, I never thought of that!” or “It makes so much sense!”  Other people are going to read this and say, “No shit Sherlock.”

I’m referring to the situation when you have a pan on the stove and things start cooking too quickly or brown too fast and burn. Garlic is a perfect example of this, it only takes a few seconds until it becomes fragrant, and is done. Taking it anything further than light, golden brown makes the garlic become bitter ruining your dish.

I like my scrambled eggs and omelets the French cooking method with absolutely no brown on them. The smell and the thought of a browned omelet or scrambled eggs make me sick. I can’t tell you how many eggs I threw out in a fit of frustration because they cooked too quickly.  

I am not a food snob, but I like what I like.  I never order scrambled eggs or omelets out unless the menu says explicitly French style eggs, which is rare, by the way. 

The French omelet vs an American omelet requires its own blog post. There is so much to talk about, but here is a quick photo for a quick visual to demonstrate what the hell I am talking about. 

“I hate my electric stove,” so many people say. You can’t control the heat and I burn everything.

If any of this sounds familiar to you then I’ve got solution that is so simple but life-changing.

When you have a pot or pan on the stove whether it’s a gas range or electric and you see whatever is in the pan is cooking too quickly, you simply move or slide the pan off the burner. It takes the pan off the heat immediately, then you don’t have to worry about residual heat from your electric range or gas burners. 

So simple it’s stupid right? The next time you’re watching your favorite cooking shows see if you can catch them doing this. I started noticing the chefs on Top chef moving their pans on and off the heat. I also watched my chef friend Martin do this as well. I tried it myself and was like, damn, how come no one tells you to do this? 

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Gordon Ramsay screams at the poor MasterChef competitors, “Take the pan off the heat for bloody hell! Oh my God!”  Then he starts rubbing his eyes right out of his head in complete frustration. The frazzled looking contestant looks at him like, “Duh, how can I be so stupid.” Heard chef!

There isn’t much out there on the internet telling home cooks about this little trick. Why not? That’s why I am telling you. 

I bring up Gordon Ramsey again because in his recipe and video for perfect scrambled eggs, Chef Ramsey uses this on and off the heat technique. We do too!  Look it up on youtube and try making his eggs. They are delicious, so are chef Wiley DuFresne’s!

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A lot of recipes instruct to remove the pan from the heat. Most cooks just turn off the burner.  They told you to remove it for a reason! So it doesn’t continue to cook from residual heat. 

I can think of dozens of examples of when you should slide your pan off the burner even if it doesn’t tell you to in a recipe. 

For example, when you are adding a liquid or tomato sauce to a saute pan with let’s say olive oil, onions, and garlic and it starts boiling and splattering immediately.  Move the pan from the heat, lower the burner and replace the pan. 

If a pan starts getting too hot when you are making chicken cutlets, you don’t want the breadcrumb that are left in the pan to burn. Take it off the heat for a few seconds, and check your temperature. If there are some very dark breadcrumbs left in the pan, wipe them out and add more oil for your next batch. If you don’t your cutlets will taste bitter. 

You lift the lid of a pot or saute pan and didn’t realize things are just starting to overcook. Get it off the heat for a few seconds.  This happens with rice very often.  Scored rice is not crispy rice, it’s burned.

Making custard is tricky, but not when you move the pot on and off the heat.   Most recipes will tell you to remove your pot from heat when you are tempering your eggs before adding them to the hot milk and sugar.  If you don’t you will end up with scrambled eggs. In the same recipe, they don’t tell you to move the pan on and off the heat while the custard is thickening, this is why so many custards end up being scorched. So annoying to go to all that trouble and have the custard scorch at the end. 

So take it off for bloody hell! Who knew that just a small kitchen secret can save thousands of ruined meals, and why the hell is no one else talking about it?

Ever wonder how restaurants get all the food from different orders out at the same time? It’s even more impressive if everything that is supposed to be piping hot actually is and cold items are nice and cold.

The same can be true at home. Pulling off that feat at a dinner party with 8 guests is remarkable. Or is it?

The host or hostess that can pull off a 4 or 5-course dinner party without a hitch has practiced a lot. They have learned to be a conductor in their kitchen and the dishes they are preparing are the orchestra.

“Conductors act as guides to the orchestras they conduct. They choose the works to be performed and study their scores, to which they make certain adjustments such as tempo, articulation, phrasing, repetitions of sections.” Wikipedia

The definition of a conductor above can be translated as a perfect example of a kitchen conductor.

Conductors act as guides to the orchestra they conduct…You are the cook and the dishes you are preparing for your dinner party is the orchestra.

They choose the works to be performed…What is the menu? Which dishes will you be serving at your dinner party?

Study their scores…the scores are the recipes you have chosen for your menu.

To which they make certain adjustments such as tempo, articulation, phrasing…making a cooking plan including how long will everything take to prepare, prepping, choosing your cooking methods, deciding what order you need to cook your menu items.

After you invite guests to dinner is when you need to decide on your menu. Things to take into consideration when planning a menu. How much time will you have on the day of the dinner? Do any guests have food allergies? Will you be cooking and eating outside or inside? What type of meal would you like to prepare. Do you want to use seasonal ingredients? What dishes can be finished and kept warm while the rest of the dishes are being prepared? Again, this goes for those weeknight dinners as well.

When choosing what type of meal you would like to make stick to something you know. If you are brand new at this food timing thing you definitely should listen to this advice. For example, you know you make a great pot roast or roasted chicken. Then serve it! If you want to experiment with a salad or side dish fine. Trying out an entire menu of items you have never prepared before is only asking for disaster. Nothing is worse than a flustered cook and a meal that is served where some of the things are soggy and cold. Not taking into account the cooking times can delay your meal, you don’t really want to begin serving your meal at 10 pm.

Let’s say you will be making your tried and true roasted whole chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, a salad you haven’t made before, a familiar veggie, and a dessert you have made 100 times.

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You already know how long the chicken will take from the time it comes out of the refrigerator until it is done and resting under foil staying warm then carved. Your mashed potatoes you can be made ahead a day or two before and then just reheated. You can also have your potatoes cut up in a pot of cold salted water the day before and ready to be boiled and mashed the night of the dinner.

To keep things warm if you are not using your oven, cover with foil or a lid and put in a 180-200 degree oven. If you are using your oven and you have a warming drawer you can put your covered finished dishes in there. What is a warming drawer? You know that drawer on some stoves below the oven? It’s not meant to store all your pots and baking sheet pans. It is meant to keep your food warm. Now you know, you are welcome! Lol

You can decide how proficient you are at making your gravy. If making sauces and gravies on the fly isn’t your thing, you can make a chicken veloute beforehand and just reheat adding a bit of your cooking juices from the chicken that is resting.

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The new salad you want to try believe it or not can be prepped a day before. You can wash your greens, dry them well, and put them in a ziplock bag in the fridge. You can also make your salad dressing. This is good to do beforehand just in case you don’t like the recipe. You have a chance to change it if necessary. After you are happy with your dressing, put it in a mason jar next to the greens in the fridge. You can cut the rest of your salad components the day of the dinner so they don’t get mushy or turn brown. Assembly will be quick and you won’t feel rushed with one of the first dishes being served.

Any vegetable you want to serve you should think about the cooking method. How long will it take to prepare? How much can be prepped ahead? If it needs to be roasted will your oven be tied up with the main dish or can you throw it in after the main comes out and is resting? If it’s sautéed will you have enough burners if everything is being made on the stovetop?

The dessert you chose should be something easy to pull off. You don’t want your guests or family to have to wait an hour or two while you are in the kitchen making a custard or baking. Have your dessert done, ready to be assembled at serving time. This again takes the pressure off so you can clear the table of dinner dishes and get set for dessert. If you know you are serving coffee, have everything ready in your coffee maker so you just have to press start.

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The actual conducting of the orchestra happens during the performance or in your case your meal. It is keeping your eye on the clock. Setting 10 timers if you need to so you don’t forget about something. Keeping an eye on everything and remembering, like the musical conductor you are performing in front of others. A cook performing with ease makes for a great evening.

A lot of things like setting the table, picking out wine or drinks, and having them chilled should be done before you begin cooking. Again, this will take the pressure off so you can focus on your meal and not worry about those types of things upon the guests’ arrival. Appointing someone to be in charge of the drinks is a perfect way to involve your guests while you are cooking.

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I don’t care how good a cook or chef you are, to pull off a great meal or menu you have to plan ahead to get your food timing right. Biting off more than you can chew is stressful. Spending the evening worrying about how everything will come out takes the enjoyment out of the evening not only for the cook but for the guests as well.

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Cooking and getting all your food ready to be served at the same time takes practice. A lot of practice. This doesn’t mean you have to host a ton of dinner parties to practice, you can practice with your weeknight dinners. The more you do it the better you get. The better you get the more confident you will feel. The more confident you become, the better time you will have with your guests.

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Hopefully, you will be able to use some of these tips and tricks to be able to conduct your orchestra and pull off a truly remarkable performance.

We all know that one shopper that we encounter at the grocery store. If You don’t know which one I’m talking about, unfortunately, you may be that one shopper.  I doubt it though. 

Since I’ve been home playing it safe with my autoimmune issues during this pandemic, I basically go out one day a week, and I look forward to it. My big excursion is belly dancing with Kathleen, then hitting the grocery store and maybe CVS.

Grocery shopping is serious business.  I either have a list that I am following strictly, or I am trying to plan the week’s lunch and dinner meals in my head with what I find.  Then along comes that one shopper.

I decided to go to the grocery store before belly dance, it could be snowing when I got out at noon. I absolutely hate driving in the snow. I had a very specific list to follow since I was just filling in the blanks for this week’s meals. I wanted to be in and out so I wasn’t running late to dance.  Luck as I would have it encountered not one of those shoppers, but two and a half. 

Patience is not one of my strong points. I know this. Everyone knows this. However, I am much more patient in my 50’s than I was in my 20’s or 30’s. 

The shopper that I am talking about isn’t the ones who walk into the store with their grocery carts and just stop. This annoys me, but I move past them quickly. 

It is not the ones that block up the aisles with their grocery carts parked next to each other to have a lengthy discussion. 

The one I am talking about is the one you can’t lose. No matter how hard you try to shake them, they are right there, up my ass or slowing me down. They are always dilly-dallying in front of the exact item I need on my list. I try skipping an aisle, and boom, there they are again! This goes on for the whole shopping trip. I honestly don’t know how they do it. 

How can one person be so damn annoying and have no clue that they are?

Today my second annoying person made the choice to not take a grocery cart.  She had a reusable bag with her and probably was only going to pick up a few things. Fair enough I do that often. 

What I don’t do is fill the sucker to the top.  The woman’s bag was so heavy she needed to put it down every 20 feet, in the middle of the aisle!  This made running away from the first person tricky since I had to bob and weave through the store around that damn heavy bag! 

Honestly, I was about to have a total meltdown at one point!  Don’t these people know there was a pandemic going on?  Shop quickly!  Get your shit and get out! 

Ok, so I pay for my stuff and take my groceries bagless thrown in my cart out to my vehicle. I find I don’t get frustrated bagging my groceries in my own bags, at my vehicle away from everyone.  This is true in any weather, long before the pandemic. 

Whenever I park anywhere, I park out in left field, away from everyone.  I hate driving in the first place, so juggling around looking for a parking place is the last thing I want to do.  The exercise is good for me too. 

I come out of the store and there is a car parked so close to my driver’s side door that I needed a fucking can opener to get in!  Why? I will tell you why.  These are the people who have the whole beach or movie theater and sit right in front of you, blocking your view.  You know what I am talking about.  Am I right or what?

Not the shopping experience I was hoping for.  As a matter of fact, I had a different blog post in my head before I left the house, but this one started writing itself before I even got to dance practice.