Life is back to normal and we have recovered from Covid. Such an annoying nuisance it has turned out to be.
Marty and Sam are heading out tomorrow morning to Syracuse for an EMS conference, something they participated in for the last few years.
It’s me, Nelly and Klaus, this rainy and cold weekend. I have no plans or expectations. No menu of food to make or projects planned.
The house was cleaned and all towels, linens and throw blankets were laundered to get rid of our sick germs. The rest of the laundry is caught up as well; and put away!!
I don’t mind a quiet weekend or celebrating our 34 wedding anniversary on Saturday when Marty gets back. No biggie.
Right now, I am enjoying the sunshine in our back room, my favorite place to hang out. ☀️
I’ve seen plenty of memes from the show called Nailed It. Ordinary people try to duplicate intricate desserts, but instead of nailing them, they are funny disasters.
This happened to me when I was about 20 years old. I tried to make the French dessert Petit fours. It was a disaster right from the get-go.
I was making these in my parent’s house, so I couldn’t lose my temper nearly as much as if I were in my place. First, you make a cake, then when it is cool, slice it into seven even layers. Impossible!
Next, you make the filling, usually a fruit variety; I made an apricot. Then, you carefully spread the filling on the layers of cake. My cake crumbled when I was applying the filling.
I kept working at my petit fours, thinking they still had a chance until I tried to pour the white icing on them. Then I tried dipping them. What a fucking mess!
I absent-mindedly began licking my fingers because things were sticking to them. Then I realized our dog Strudel’s black hair was in the icing.
I had a belly ache from too much sweet icing and threw 7 hours of work away. I haven’t tried making them again. I was enraged that the Petit Fours got the best of me.
I’ve gotten better at baking even though it’s not my favorite thing; I can do it. Unlike cooking, I don’t like the idea that the whole thing could turn into a flop.
My favorite cake I made was for my father-in-law Han’s birthday. He was a very sweet man with a good sense of humor; check out how he is holding the knife! 😂
I’ve made a lot of Black Forest cakes over the years, but I wanted to make Black Forest cupcakes for our Oktoberfest dinner party.
I wrote about how good they came out in my dinner party post and how delicious they were. I didn’t write about the behind-the-scenes drama but left a teaser at the end of the piece.
When planning the menu, I sought inspiration and found an image and recipe for Black Forest cupcakes that looked gorgeous! Oh, how I wanted mine to look like those! See where this is going?
I always make two tester cupcakes, so I don’t ruin the ones I want to serve. I followed the recipe exactly; it was rare, but this was baking.
I made the dark chocolate cupcakes, which were moist. Cherry filling I’ve made many times before, and it was no biggie.
The big biggie was the stabilized whipped cream. I was home alone and started letting my swear flow, weaving a tapestry of curses that impressed me.
Bakers use gelatin in the whipped cream. First off, the smell of gelatin made me sick to my stomach. I’ve been forced to eat a lot of jello when I had terrible ulcerative colitis flare-ups. Just the thought makes my stomach turn.
Even though I followed the recipe, the gelatin never did what it was supposed to. Instead, there were globs of gelatin in the whipped cream. I was pissed off here.
I tried putting it through a sieve, thinking I could save it, but that was a big waste of time and more dishes.
I scraped that damn whipped cream off the two cupcakes and threw it all away; I started fresh and made the whipped cream I’ve been making for decades.
I piped the new whipped cream on the cupcakes using a pastry bag. I was pleased with how they came out. They were far from perfect, but chocolate shavings would camouflage the imperfections.
I returned to the recipe I was trying to duplicate on the two practice cupcakes. Mistake number two. Big mistake!
Yup, I nailed it. They turned out as funny as the other baking and decorating debacles on the show. At least I didn’t spend more than 20 minutes on the disaster, unlike the poor bastards who spent hours on their creations.
Of course, I didn’t serve those; they were for us the next day and tasted as good as the nice-looking ones we served our guests.
These days, we’ve had to learn to pivot during and after the pandemic, so shrugging off my failed cupcake attempt was fine with me.
The day after I put out the teaser about my Nailed It experience, my friend who lives next door, David, sent me a text telling me he tried to make gluten-free apple muffins for us along with two photos, his and the recipe he followed photo. He definitely Nailed it. 😂
I told him it was the thought that counted and was very sweet of him to make us muffins.
I may never be an artistic baker, but that’s okay since I can cook my ass off like nobody’s business.
Have any of you had a Nailed It experience? I’d love to hear about it.
I had a Grinch like experience in the last couple of months, my hearted grew 10 times!
Christmas shopping always caused me anxiety. Come to think of it, all shopping for others always gives me anxiety.
Thanks to my mother, who was never pleased or satisfied with anything I ever chose for her is probably the root of this. Never once.
Living in the now or moment has changed me in ways that shock the hell out of me every day.
Instead if shopping for others stressing me out, the now me suddenly felt like I was looking forward to the holiday season.
After my boys were grown up, I went through a decade of depression and missed how excited I was for the holidays.
As an empty nester, I’m in a place in between having grown up children and having grandkids.
I began my holiday ideas and when I saw something that I wanted to give someone I said fuck it and bought right then and there.
Now, I am done and have no holiday gift giving stress. It’s pretty damn amazing. When the kids were little I keeping thinking they need one more thing.
Not anymore, these gifts were purchased or made with love, creativity. And not out of obligation.
The Grinch quote above resonated with me this year, “What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more?”
Funny, I just let out a big sigh or contentment after I typed that last line.
Decide to make today a good one. Go into each day with no expectations and you may be pleasantly surprised. ♥️
*** No editing on this post since I am running out to the production kitchen as I press the publish button.
Last night was our Oktoberfest dinner party I began planning for a month ago. Bottom line…it was a success and a lovely evening.
Our dinner party included our friends and neighbors Buzz & Tabetha, owners of the Arlington Inn—the guys from next door, David & Arthur, and of course, our good buddy, Martin.
I am glad I took photos of the food as I made it and some before our friends arrived. The table setting was a modern take on harvest time.
Like other dinner parties, I didn’t take photos of my food. I realize now I probably never will since I like to be present when we have guests, not on my phone.
My menu included a relish plate with quick pickled beets that came out great for a first try and not using a recipe.
I made up a drink called a Kirsh Cocktail, which was cherry brandy and a maraschino cherry in the bottom of a wine glass, then topped with Prosecco. It was a hit.
After everyone had a cocktail, I served silver dollar potato pancakes with freshly made applesauce and sour cream. I purposely made just enough; I didn’t want everyone to fill up on an appetizer. Everyone loved them; if I made double, they would have been gone in a flash.
I set up a buffet for dinner in the kitchen. The menu consisted of pork schnitzel topped with lemon, spätzle with mushroom cream sauce, red cabbage, and weisswurst with sauerkraut, apples and onions.
My friend Arthur doesn’t eat pork or beef. I made him chicken schnitzel with lemon, sausage with apples, and brown sugar. The sausage was delicious, something I will buy for us again.
I was pleased with how the food came out. When Chef Martin was making his plate, I said to him, “German food is really brown, isn’t it?” We both laughed in agreement, not that Irish food is any better.
For dessert, I made black forest cupcakes, which were too big since they were rich and filling. I was delighted with the result. Note to self: next time, make smaller cupcakes, Julz.
I’m writing a post next titled Nailed It, describing the trials and tribulations of my dessert if you are familiar with Nailed It, you will know what to expect.
Klaus and little Nelly were well-behaved after the Initial excitement from guests arriving. I was smart and put away all their toys except for things they could chew on.
This was the most brilliant decision I made for our dinner party. Usually, Klaus is a pain in the ass, shoving toys into people’s legs because he wants to play fetch.
On the other hand, Nelly loves to play with Klaus, stealing the toys from him and making them run circles through the living room, dining room, and kitchen.
Instead, Nelly and Klaus laid on the floor while people were talking, each chewing on a chewy toy. This was a revelation and something that I will do whenever we have people over.
That’s two dinner parties in the books for 2023. I love planning and cooking for my friends and family. I told Martin I know you know how great it feels to host and cook delicious food for people you love. He smiled, nodding, saying he did. There’s nothing quite like it. ☺️
I woke up at 7 am and came downstairs to let Klaus out. I left Marty and Nelly, who had their heads on pillows in the same position breathing softly.
I grabbed a blanket and snuggled with Klaus and wrote a blog post about our dinner party last night. I still have to edit and let my laptop charge.
When the sleepy heads emerged, things got crazy fast since Nelly is always happy to see Klaus and vice versa.
My tiny Halloween corner in the kitchen.
They played while we sipped our tea and coffee. I put on a soft jazz playlist and lit a apple cider candle and began emptying our dishwasher and drying rack from last night.
I wanted a cozy breakfast that sticks with the porridge type food I’ve been craving. I made creamy grits with over easy eggs. It was satisfying and perfect on a chilly morning.
As I am looking out our back room windows, the foliage this years is nothing to write home about. The pounding rain took down a lot of leaves.
Tourists still visited our area for a fall getaway or one of the many weddings this holiday weekend.
Our friends Buzz and Tabetha, new owners of the Arlington Inn, reopened the old Deming Tavern after a complete, much needed, ceiling to floor renovation, opening up the tavern to accommodate more people.
The tavern is beautiful! Tab did a wonderful job sourcing the appropriate time period pieces that makes the place ooze with charm.
They purchased the Arlington Inn last year and have done non stop renovations bringing the neglected Inn back to life.
We were invited to the soft opening which was wonderful! We are so happy to have a place to go to once a week again!
Bottoms up Martin!
My laptop is charged! I’m ready to edit my next blog post! Have a great day guys! The good news for us is the skies are turning blue and the sun is coming out! Yay!
*** I didn’t edit this piece so it’s a case of it is what it is.
A few weeks ago, I invited our small circle of friends to an Oktoberfest dinner party. The theme makes sense since do have a German food business.
As soon as the replies came saying our friends could come, I made my menu. Marty asked if I was going to start cooking already. 😂
I dislike rushing around and began picking up ingredients last week. I was so excited on Thursday because I could start making a couple of things in advance.
Yesterday, I baked and cooked many of my menu items, the ones that only get better when made a couple of days ahead, like red cabbage and sauerkraut with apples and onions.
Today is all about cooking, tidying up, and setting the table, my favorite thing to do.
I’m taking photos of my dinner party food this time; the last one we had was in January, I forgot to.
The last detail is what I’m the hell I’m going to wear. Always important to me since I was a little girl.
Back then, I wanted to wear my Mary Jane’s every time we went out. I still have a pair, just not patent leather.
This post has three topics: culinary, history, and literary. All that for oatmeal? You, betcha.
I love food anthropology. It’s the one thing I would have gone back to school for if I didn’t hate going to school so much.
Marty and I watched a program on YouTube that talked about what people ate at different points in time.
The guy whose show it is also covers what the rich, the poor, and the working class people ate.
We watched an episode on 18th-century breakfasts the other night. They have records of what people ate since they kept journals and wrote these things down.
Ben Franklin’s writings are most famous for his love of bread and cheese, which he lived off of when he wasn’t in other people’s company.
In the episode, the guy talked about oatmeal. It is also known as groul, water, milk groul, and porridge made with water or milk. All three classes of people ate plain oatmeal or groul.
Ah, so that’s what nasty old Scrooge was eating. I always wondered about that. Did anyone know what groul was? It sounded awful.
The literary piece is how you name a menu item. There is a way to add romance, such as calling pumpkin oatmeal pumpkin milk porridge with maple syrup.
We named our business The Vermont Spätzle Company because it was the first thing that came to mind and because the word Vermon adds romance to the name.
For example, how would the Ohio Spätzle or NY Spätzle Company sound? However, if it was The Saratoga Spätzle Company, you have the romance in the name.
As a food service director at school, I wrote the menu with the same feeling for the menu items. Such as a three-cheese focaccia melt with tomato and pesto.
Another example is calling a ham and cheese bagel melt a cowboy bagel with ham, cheddar, and BBQ sauce. See?
The culinary part is simple. It is pumpkin, oatmeal, toasted nuts, warm spices such as cinnamon and nutmeg, maple syrup, brown sugar, salt, milk, and water.
The rest is up to you and your taste or a recipe you found. I read a few recipes to know the quantities, then did my own thing. It turned out exactly how I wanted it to.
This would be on the menu throughout the fall season, along with Apple Cider porridge topped with diced apple, toasted nuts, and cinnamon sugar in my pretend restaurant or cafe.
Those menu items scream autumn, especially here in VT. They would be a home run, unlike just writing just oatmeal.
Here are some recipes to try: Pumpkin Oatmeal by Well Plated and another recipe from Del’s cooking twist.
I’m in a hurry to publish this piece; please excuse the grammar. Have a great day!
Soon after my encounter with Turtle, I wasn’t expecting to journey again so soon. The veil to the other side gets thinner this time of the year, so it shouldn’t have surprised me.
Lately, after all my years of Shamanic Journeying, I have gone to new places, which frightens me when it happens.
I was scared shitless when I was led through a dark forest where Wolf was waiting for me. I was even more frightened when he started stalking me. So I ran.
This journey led me to another dark place. I was walking into pitch-black darkness. I was terrified. I wasn’t sure if I was in the middle or the lower world; I didn’t know how I even got there.
I stopped, trying to understand where I was and why. I telepathically heard a voice say, “Take my hand.” Um, no, thank you.
I was frightened to take the hand and didn’t. My mind was racing about what to do. Why wasn’t this a happy journey? Why was I in the place?
I kept hearing over and over, “Trust me, take my hand.” I was afraid to, but then I got the courage to do so.
As soon as I reached out and grabbed that hand, I was back to the loveseat in our back room. I understood what that journey meant.
In addition to overcoming my worrying and anxiety, I forgot about depression, which I have been battling significantly since my lung issues began.
When I think I’m climbing out of deep, dark depression, I am shoved back down the rabbit hole.
The night before this journey, I finally called a dear close friend of mine who moved to Washington state close to five years ago.
She and I were very close. She was about 15 years older than me and a great source of answers to many questions I had as a woman.
I never had someone I could confide in before this way. She explained a woman’s middle-life crisis and how I wasn’t alone in things I felt about this and that.
She texted me a few times asking if I was ok. She worried about me since I never posted anything about me on my Facebook page. No news is good news.
She said the stuff I have been sharing on my page is somewhat cryptic, and she was worried. I finally called her back.
Kaaron is someone I should have called months ago, but answering questions about my lung disease is very depressing to discuss with people.
That’s when she said, “Give it to me.” I started talking and talking about my physical and mental health issues. Everything just poured out of me.
She knew exactly what to say after she listened to everything I said. Kaaron was my stand-in mother for years since my mother, Eileen, was not that kind of mother or person.
In a very assuring, quiet tone, she said what I’d been waiting for someone who knew me to say.
I mentioned how I pretended to “get over” my lung disease prognosis and move on. She said, “Sweetheart, you don’t have to get over anything. Why would you think that?”
I told her because it made people close to me feel better, and I knew people were sick of me wanting to talk about it.
In her best Karron fashion, she said, “Well fuck everybody else. This is not something you get over.” Finally, those magic words filled with love and experience.
I cried and told her I felt like I was swimming in a dark sea alone. She said that’s because I was. She was right, I was.
She told me this was how she felt when her oldest son ended his own life 12 years ago. People thought she should get over it; she swam in her own dark sea alone.
I thanked her and told her I wanted to keep in touch because I missed her; she made me feel better about how I was handling my situation and to honor my feelings and not everyone else’s.
I am crying while writing this because that phone call meant so much to me. I am so grateful to have her in my life, even if she is across the country from me.
After I hung up, Marty asked if I was ok. I told him precisely what Kaaron told me. She was the only one who said what I’d been desperately waiting to hear.
The next day, I had that metaphoric journey. It took me a while to realize that the voice that told me to take their hand and to trust them was either Jesus or God. It freaked me out.
I still feel like I am still swimming in a dark sea alone, but I know a hand is always ready to grab mine when needed.
Talk about fucked up, right? I haven’t shared this with anyone because it’s weird to casually mention this type of shit without people thinking I am totally off my nut.
On my blog, I promised myself and my readers to be honest, genuine, and authentic, which is not easy. I feel like these journeys are necessary to honor and talk about.
These posts are difficult to write and even harder when I lose readers because of them.
I never said this journey would be easy, but I seem to be progressing slowly and steadily regarding a fraction of my life’s lessons.
Thanks for reading and even more for sticking around. 🖤