Geronimo!

Yesterday, I stood at the end of the deck in the beautiful sunshine. It was in the 80s with no humidity. I yelled, “Geronimo!” Then I jumped into our new pool. I am not a gloater, but our pool is open, and we have been swimming since May 10th. If I were a gloater, I would say, “Waz up bitches! Check it out; I’m swimming already!”

Swimming on May 10th may sound crazy, especially since we live in the Northeast, but the water temperature was 84 degrees. Marty and I waited our whole adult life to have a pool and decided we would invest in a heat pump to swim comfortably for six months out of the year.

If we didn’t have a heated pool, we would only be swimming in July and August. We both grew up with above-the-ground pools and used them a lot. We didn’t give two shits when we were kids if the water was warm or cold. 

I remember my parents forcing me to come out of the pool when my lips were blue. My dad tried to keep me out of the pool if the water was colder than 70 degrees. The ridiculous thing to me as a kid and still kind of now is the waiting 30 minutes after you eat to swim again. Why? 

How many people got stomach cramps from a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch or a piece of chicken or hot dog for dinner. It wasn’t like we ever ate big belly sinker meals in the dog days of summer. 

Yesterday, after production, we quickly put on our bathing suits so we could get into the pool to install our “wedding cake” stairs. I knew these pool stairs existed but didn’t know they were called wedding cake steps. Guess what? They look like a wedding cake! 

A small set of wedding cake stairs.

We have learned from watching other people’s mistakes that since we are in our mid to late 50s, everything we buy we do with 15 years later in mind. Older people who buy a 3rd-floor walk-up apartment or build a brand new home and don’t put their master bedroom on the ground floor aren’t thinking ahead.

We both knew that going up and down a ladder wouldn’t work for us. It was shaky and dangerous using the ladder only a few times, so we knew it would be impossible down the road.

Marty found a set of used steps in Facebook Marketplace, where we find almost everything we buy. He picked up the steps for $150, which cost as high as $800 new. Marty is a master at finding the things we need at the right time and price. 

The wedding cake steps make entering and exiting the pool safe and easy. As a bonus, the steps are a perfect place for us to sit and enjoy a cocktail in the pool.

Me and Sam relaxing today. This was absolute heaven!

We had to build a small deck for the steps to attach to; for the record dollar for dollar, that was the most expensive part of the whole pool project due to the unbelievably high cost of building materials. 

Now we won’t have to go to a hotel that has a pool because we want to sit our asses on lounge chairs and take a dip. We can go somewhere to sightsee or to a particular destination when we go away. 

Marty texted me this photo last night when I was at dance class. It’s the only one I have of him in the pool and it was great to see he was relaxing. The solar cover goes on at night to keep the heat in.

The best part of the whole heat pump thing is that instead of waiting to swim, we can do it already. We will be able to swim through October as well if we wish. 

Today, I remembered everything I did in the pool when I was a kid, like handstands and crab walks. I jumped in a bunch of times. I transplanted some herbs this afternoon, and it was hot on our back deck. After I got done planting, the most incredible thing was I jumped back into the pool to cool off.

“Cannonball!” 😂 

A children’s concert…

All dolled up with my pearls on. Lol.

Last month, Marty and I were invited to an end-of-the-year children’s concert. Since our kids are grown, and our nieces and nephew live out of state, we don’t spend time with any children.

We were invited by one of our first wholesale customers, who happened to be a Mennonite. We have gotten to know the owners and employees of the shop very well over the last five years. I like delivering and shopping there; everyone is so nice.

Four years ago, the Mennonites asked if they could come to our home to sing us Christmas carols. When they showed up that snowy evening, it was magical.

Many of them we knew from the store with their families, and some we didn’t know. They sang religious carols like angels singing out in the glittery snowfall.

The Mennonites celebrate the true meaning of Christmas without any commercial aspects. There is no Santa Klaus, Frosty, or Rudolf. No songs like, “Grandma got run over by a reindeer.”

Marty was running errands earlier that afternoon, and I asked him to pick up something we could offer the carolers. He picked up Chocolate Santa Klaus’. Needless to say, he was eating chocolate Santa’s until Valentine’s Day. 🤦🏻‍♀️

We said yes, we would like to go to the concert. We have watched our customer’s children and families grow over the last five years and wanted to hear them sing. It was nice they invited us or even wanted to invite us.

We are probably the last people one would think of “hanging” with Mennonites, but everything aside, we enjoy each other’s company.

A few years ago, we did a couple of spätzle tastings in their store. At first, I thought it would be weird since we are covered with tattoos and piercings. To them, it didn’t matter. They don’t judge us. Only God can.

Once we got used to the hymns playing loudly in the store, it felt like any other store we demoed. We fit in, and it was enjoyable. We all laughed a lot and had fun in the meantime. We got to know each other and realized we all have the same hard work ethic.

Last night, we both dressed up for the concert. I did not wear long sleeves to cover my tattoo sleeves, but it was chilly. Since Marty was careful not to wear a Mennonite signature plaid shirt, we laughed.

He decided on black pants with a navy blue button-down with tiny white polka-dots. It was good he didn’t wear his light blue oxford button-down since that is what all the Mennonite men wore to church instead of plaid shirts.

The people from the store always see us in our yucky production clothes or looking like we were dragged behind a truck, disheveled and tired. One time, I went dressed up to drop off a delivery before going to an event. Suddenly, one of the employees stopped me because they didn’t recognize me in the back room. 🤣

I was a bit nervous about what it would be like at the concert. Marty and I had no idea what to expect from their church, even though I have been to Catholic Churches thousands of times.

When we got there, I saw our customer’s wife and asked her what we do. She told me her husband would show us to our seats. When he saw us, he got the biggest smile and sat us with his family. He made us feel welcome.

When the service began, it was more magical than the Christmas caroling; it was powerful and beautiful. The congregation all sang a hymn that everyone knew the words to. They harmonized, and it seemed everyone had a good singing voice. It was beyond impressive, especially since there was no music, only singing.

After an opening prayer, the children began to sing together, then each of the three “rooms” took turns singing. Again, no music, songs with lots of lyrics and talking parts. There was no clapping. No showing off. No praise or glory; that is left to God, who makes it all happen.

The children were happy, funny, and entertaining while singing about God. Many of the songs were about lessons they have been taught with meanings such as kindness, sharing, love, gratitude, peace, patience, and caring.

As I watched the children sing and their parents watching them, I saw pure bliss and innocence. They don’t watch movies or tv, go on the internet, play video games, or get caught up in social media. They didn’t have any outside distractions, yet they seemed like regular kids. 

The love I felt in that church last night is something I won’t forget for a long time. On our way home, Marty told me how much he enjoyed the concert and graduation of two older students, one being our friend’s oldest son.

I envied them for living life so simply and not having so many problems caused by all the distractions I mentioned earlier. 

They don’t know about the horrors of social media and aren’t caught up in the hate present in our country and the world. They know essential news, and that’s it. I would be embarrassed if they knew just how disrespectful and mean people are to each other. How terrible the fighting and war going on in the world is.

It was like taking a step back in time where God mattered first, then their families. Yes, like us, they have worries, financial problems, sickness, and death. They have burdens that weigh them down, but they give it all over to God and trust Him and only Him.

It was a beautiful experience. We forgot about the distractions we have in our lives while we were there enjoying the bliss we were surrounded by. What a beautiful life they live. Amen.

Aunt Claire’s gift…

I lost track of time; I thought Mother’s Day was usually the second Sunday in May. I only realized it was this Sunday a couple of days ago. 

Growing up there were some years when my dad had to double up on gifts; my parent’s anniversary was May 14th, and it fell on Mother’s Day more than once. 

My father always got my mother a gift from me and the other child they adopted for Mother’s Day. My mother couldn’t understand why she didn’t get one from him until he told her, “because you’re not my mother.” That went over like a lead balloon. 😂

When our boys were small, it was our tradition that we would go to a garden nursery, and I would buy all my flowers, herbs, and vegetable plants. I would come home, and Marty kept an eye on the boys so I could plant my stuff in peace and however I wanted to.

This year my mother is no longer here. This is the first year I haven’t dreaded Mother’s Day for a month before. I could never give her the right gift or anything that she liked or expected.

Picking out a card was a whole other issue for me. I loved my mother when she was alive, and I still loved her now; I just didn’t like the person that she was to me. 

All the cards felt phony to me. Some made me almost gag; they were so over the top with sickening shit. Some years it took me close to half an hour to choose one.  

One year I came up with a solution to this problem. I would buy a card that said, “Happy Mother’s Day to the women who taught me how to be the mother I am today.” 

Of course, this was the first time my mother beamed when she read the card. She didn’t know that she taught me how to be the mother I am today by not doing or saying any of the things she did. I did everything opposite. 

This was a good compromise for me since I wasn’t lying by giving her some dripping with sugar card she wanted. It was true, and she perceived it the way she wanted to. 

I was never mean or hurt my mother mentally, emotionally, or just for the hell of it. That is not who I am, no matter how upset, broken, or fucked up she made me. 

Everything was carefully calculated and premeditated when it came to her actions and words to me. She was not like this to anyone else in the world—only me.

It wasn’t my imagination, or how I took things, Marty and my Aunt Claire, my Godmother, and my mother’s sister saw it happen repeatedly. Just before Aunt Claire passed away she apologized to me, which was the biggest shocker of my life.

She called me and said she wanted to say how sorry she was. She said everyone in the family saw and knew how my mother treated me, but no one ever said or did anything about it. 

This was one of the happiest days of my life!  I kept saying, “Really? Do you mean it wasn’t me all along? I wasn’t a bad kid or teenager?” She told me I was a good kid, so no one knew why she treated me poorly.

When my Aunt Claire passed away two weeks later, I cherished that conversation she had with me. It was the greatest gift anyone could have given me or will ever give me. 

Aunt Claire told me when we hung up, she felt better finally apologizing, but she never knew how important and life-changing that conversation was. It was unbelievable that I finally knew it wasn’t me after all; it was my mother. 

It’s still unbelievable to me to this day how fortunate for me that she told the truth shortly before she passed away from complications from her surgery. 

Her soul knew what was coming, and she died at peace. Before we hung up, she asked for my forgiveness. I laughed and said, “Oh, stop it; I don’t have anything to forgive; I have to thank you for telling me.”

I honestly didn’t plan to write about my mother or Aunt Claire today and the gift she gave me. I was going to write about the flowers I picked out this afternoon to plant on Mother’s Day.

These raw, emotional posts come out of left field; they start writing themselves. I’ve learned to honor them and let the story pour out. I’ve been holding on to them for a very long time. I am finding it is part of the healing and forgiveness process for me on my journey. 

Happy Friday guys!!! Have a great weekend! I will tell you about the flowers I got today next time. 🌺 🌸

***Marty just informed me that Sunday is the second Sunday in May. Boy o boy I did lose track of time!

Menu by weather…

Twice-baked potato drizzled with Pan Sauce along with Steak Diane & Green Beans Almandine.

Over the weekend, we had some gorgeous sunshine and warm temperatures! It felt fantastic to be sweating while scrubbing our back deck’s railings.

I took out a flat iron steak from the freezer with visions of making grilled flank steak with fresh veggies and a starch. It didn’t happen. Martin invited us over for a pork roast dinner and a game of cards called 5 Crowns which is super fun and addictive. My winning streak came to an end last night. 

We always have dinner with Martin when he invites us because he is a chef and cooks excellent food. He is also fun to watch cook; I learn a lot from watching him being a visual learner. 

Martin’s wife and my friends Eileen passed away suddenly two years ago. Whenever he invites us, he has a craving for something and would never make it for himself. It’s always last minute, and we rarely have to decline. 

Most widows may agree they don’t want to cook a big meal just for themselves. So he cooks for us and others, which is a great deal for us! We always have such a good time while we are at it. 

Usually, I cook whatever I had planned to make before his invite the next night. Today is a rainy and nasty day, not suitable for grilling a summer steak and veggies.

I decided to make a trifecta of old-school classics, perfect for a shitty weather day like today. 

Last year, I wrote about each of the meal components I made tonight. There is a separate blog post with recipes included.

Older or foodie people always laugh when I mention the names of these dishes, and they always add an “I haven’t thought about that dish for years!” Lol 😂 

Mise en place for Steak Diane diced onion, butter, dijon mustard, cognac, Worcestershire sauce, and beef stock.

Steak Diane is one of my major league hitters that is a home run every time. It is Sam’s favorite. His eyes get glossed over when I tell him I am making it. Here is my blog link for Steak Diane if you aren’t sure what it is and want to make it.

I used my grandmother’s cast iron frying to sear and cook the flat iron steak. I have found that cooking steak intimates many people, and it doesn’t have to be.

Before I got good at making steaks both indoors and outdoors, I watched many YouTube chef videos. The biggest fear I had was killing the meat in other words overcooking it and ruining it. We like our steak medium-rare and not well done. Steak is too damn expensive to screw up.

What took the fear away for me was a thermometer. Clever huh? I have no shame using a temp probe to watch the temperature of my steak. All that touching the back of your hand to check for doneness is a bunch of bullshit for home cooks. Seriously, get a thermometer and decide how you like your steaks done. 

Checking the temp of steaks.

This is how easy it is. I pull my medium-rare steaks off the grill when it reaches 130-degrees. The steak goes up 5-degrees in temperature after it comes off the grill or out of the pan. A perfect medium-rare steak is 135-degrees. Nailed it! 

Rare 120-degrees 

Medium-rare 130-degrees

Medium 140-degrees 

Medium-well 150-degrees

Well done 160+ degrees

I used to keep my steak on the grill until the thermometer read 135-degrees, and it was always overdone. Once I started pulling it off 5-degrees before I had perfect steak.

Perfect medium-rare steak!

I don’t use this method for poultry or pork. I don’t take it off the grill or out of the oven until it reaches temperature or a bit over. You can’t fuck around with chicken, or everyone will get sick. Chicken must always be cooked to at least 165-degree and for pork 145-degrees.

To go with the Steak Diane, I pulled three twice-baked potatoes out of the freezer I made a couple of months ago. Whenever I make them, I double the recipe for another night, like tonight. The oven does all the work.

People forget about twice-baked potatoes even though everyone goes nuts for them. They are a perfect side dish for steak. Here is the link to Twice Baked Potatoes.

I decided on Green Beans almandine since I had green beans that needed to be used. I was going to quick char them on the grill when I was cooking them outside, but these would do.

Green beans almandine is an old-school veggie side dish that you never see on a plate anymore. It’s a shame because they are easy to make and delicious. 

Here’s the Green Bean Almandine post to learn more about them. It’s funny that the post reads a lot like this one; you’ll see if you read it.

I love these dishes, and they are my go-to’s whenever I have the ingredients on hand, and I am not sure what to make. 

These old-school classics are just that because everyone loved them, and they were on every restaurant menu back in the day. I like to bring these dishes back and share them with people or, in some cases, introduce them to people.

It’s interesting to think about what current food trends will be considered old-school classics in 40 years. What do you guys think? 🤔 

I am going with avocado toast! Definitely!

Dope-ass chicken…

I triumphantly achieved the success of some damn good bbq chicken. It may have been the best bbq chicken I have ever eaten, that’s why I called it dope-ass chicken. Dope=good.

That’s a big, bold statement, but it may be true. I know chicken, and I love chicken. Roasted chicken is one of my favorite dishes; it’s the first thing I would eat after setting foot in Paris.

Bbq chicken and smoked chicken are two different things. We can use the same ceramic smoker grill for both. The difference is using wood or charcoal. Another difference is if you are smoking low and slow or grilling your proteins quickly.

I made smoked chicken thighs at the end of the summer last year, and they came out delicious. I made a sticky & sweet glaze for them, which made them even tastier.

This time I grilled the chicken thighs using lump wood charcoal. We set the grill up with a hot side and a cooler side. This is also referred to as direct and indirect heat.

Since this is all new for me, I researched tons of bbq chicken blog posts and recipes. Everyone has their way when it comes to using a rub or brine. Both are used to add deep flavor to the chicken, not just coasting the skin. 

When using a rub, it is applied for several hours or overnight to the chicken. This is called a dry brine; a new cooking terminology for me. I don’t associate the words dry and brine together since they are opposite things.

I had leftover bbq rub so put it in a jar for next time.

The other method of getting flavor into the chicken is brining. Brining poultry is submerging the poultry in a solution of water, salt, sugar, spices, and herbs for 24-48 hours.

I think back to the old days when people’s mothers and grandmothers soaked their poultry in saltwater before baking it. They were brining back then and didn’t even know it. Here comes the but; they baked the living shit out of it, leaving it dry as fuck out of fear of food poisoning.  

Brining poultry didn’t become popular until the early 2000s when the magazine Cooks Illustrated introduced and endorsed the brining method. It caught on and became all the rage. After two decades of brining being the golden child, some chefs like Alex Garnaschelli are “over it” even though the internet is flooded with her famous turkey brining recipe. 

Kosher salt and sugar are the two main ingredients; they aren’t pictured here with the spices.

I decided to use a rub for the dry brining method for the chicken. I looked up various recipes for chicken rubs and picked one. The one I chose was a home run, so I am glad I went with my instincts.

Here is the link to the rub recipe I used for my chicken even though the title of the recipe is Barbecue Pork Rub Recipe.

I rubbed the rub deep into the chicken thighs on both sides.

I dry brined my chicken for 9 hours which was plenty of time for the flavor to penetrate the chicken thighs. 

Out of habit I always write down the time I started a brine in case I forget when doing a zillion things at once.

While the chicken was dry brining, I looked up different bbq sauces recipes. They are millions of them, just to let you know. I filtered through many and decided to make an “old-fashioned” bbq sauce. I didn’t realize there was a difference, but there is. 

One blog explained how old-fashioned bbq sauces aren’t cooked like most but have melted butter in them. Butter in bbq sauce may seem a bit odd, but what do I know I am new to this.

I picked the sauce recipe called Old Fashioned Bbq Chicken and Sauce from the blog that explained old-fashioned bbq sauce. After I made the sauce I tasted it, I was surprised by how bright it was. Old fashioned bbq sauces also have lemon juice in them; that’s where the brightness comes from. 

For the hell of it, I added the lemon juice last because I wanted to see if it made a difference in the sauce. It made a huge difference! It made the sauce.

Grilling chicken goes fast and can overcook quickly something I didn’t want to happen. I got out the temperature probe so I could keep an eye on things.

The chicken is placed skin side down over the hot direct heat for 3-5 minutes I did 4. I was shocked at how dark the skin got so quickly. One was a little too black, so I took the skin off that piece. It didn’t matter in the end.

The chicken is flipped over the direct heat side for another 3-5 minutes. I did 3 this time.

The chicken is then moved to the other side of the grill to the cooler indirect heat. I had the meat probe set for 175 degrees to make sure the chicken was done all the way through. 

The probe goes through the thickness part of the chicken part but away from the bone. I inserted the probe until I hit the bone, then backed it up. I saw that trick on YouTube.

Bbq sauce shouldn’t be applied to the chicken too early, or it will burn from the sugar in the sauce. All my dad’s friends applied theirs too soon ruining the chicken. I hated eating the bitter burned chicken; I ate it though because I had to.😖

I waited until the chicken reached 155 degrees before adding the sauce to one side of the chicken. I let it cook for 10 minutes and flipped it over and brushed the sauce on the other side. 

I repeated this a couple of times ending with the skin side up and a final brushing of sauce. I pulled the chicken off when my 175-degree temperature alert went off on the remote.

I let the chicken sit at room temp for 10 minutes to let the juices redistribute themselves. Wow, did this work! The chicken thighs were so moist and juicy. The insides were glistening like Marty’s brisket did. Yum!

Here is my glorious bbq chicken with Mema’s potato salad topped with baked beans (it’s a Jersey thing), a deviled egg, and a Reo Diner Pickle. If you are curious about what a Reo Diner Pickle is, you can read the blog post titled, “Meet me at the Reo” I posted last year. The link is below.

The skin was done just right. Even the one piece that lost its skin at the beginning of the cook tasted perfect because the sauce still coated the skinless chicken thigh like the other ones. 

This morning, I ate a piece of cold chicken for breakfast. It was still moist and had a better flavor than two nights before. 

So I made dope-ass bbq chicken. The real question is can I do it again? We will see. 

Here is the blog post “Meet me at the Reo

Cooking with Mema

Mema at our wedding. 💙

I love writing about my grandmothers. This afternoon, it felt like Mema was standing beside me, watching me make picnic sides for the bbq chicken I am grilling tonight.

When I was young, I knelt on a red kitchen stool with a back on it and two steps. I would watch Mema make her famous potato salad. I watched her make it many times; anyone having a picnic asked her to bring her potato salad.

I mainly observed, but she let me help decorate the top of the potato salad with slices of hard-boiled eggs and sliced pepper rings. I loved sprinkling to top with paprika too!

She would make 5 lbs of potato salad and serve it in a tin foil roasting pan so she wouldn’t worry about getting her pan back. 

When the potato salad got to where it was going, the Saran Wrap on top was smushed into the salad.

Everyone loved her potato salad. I knew how she made it, so I made the potato salad myself when I got older. My mother couldn’t get over my potato salad tasted just like Mema’s. 

Mema cut her potatoes into small cubes, and her celery and onion were diced very small. You never got a big bite of any one ingredient. She made the mayo dressing in a separate bowl and made sure it tasted right before folding it into the salad. It was all cohesively done, with every bite tasting the same. I think that’s why it was so good. This is how I teach people how to make potato, macaroni, tuna, and egg salads.

It was easy to duplicate since she loosely followed the Hellman’s Mayo recipe on the side of the jar. She had to adjust it since she was making larger quantities. She would taste it and add a little more if this or that. The secret ingredient to her potato salad was all the love she put into it.

Luckily, I had the taste in my food memory, and my palate could duplicate hers. I still look at the Hellman’s recipe to remind myself what’s what. Then I add a little bit more this and that, just like Mema did. Lots of love goes into my potato salad too.

I also watched her make deviled eggs, which are still my favorite. I duplicate hers whenever I make them. I made them for the kids at school when I was the food service director and cook. They would gobble them up within seconds and loved them. 

My baked beans were my creation when I was around 12 years old. Whenever my parents had a picnic or went to one they requested I make my beans. 

I knew even at 12 how I wanted them to taste and would adjust the ingredients until they were just right. Then I would add strips of bacon to the top and pop it into the oven. I knew the beans were done when it bubbled and the bacon was cooked.

Yum! My baked beans are studded with bits of bacon!

After four decades of making baked beans, I figured something out. Instead of leaving the bacon in strips, today, I diced it and arranged it on top of the beans. 

After all these years, I solved the problem with the strips of bacon on top. There were a few slices of bacon, and someone always glommed them all before anyone else got any. Another issue with the whole strips was the bacon was always soggy underneath, even if the tops looked done. The bacon glom didn’t mind, though.

Now, each bite of the baked beans had small amounts of crispy bacon. This is so brilliant. I can’t believe how long it took me!

This is Mema with Noah and me at a family party. She was always smiling when kids were around. I can still smell the powder she wore. Geez, I miss her!

These picnic sides make me feel like I am 10 years old again and taste the same! The only thing I am sad about is that Mema isn’t here to have some with me.

Make the best of it…

Getting ready for the concert tonite.

Yesterday, I read a quote from a friend Robert who I know from my hometown and high school, John F Kennedy, in Iselin, NJ.

His quote struck a chord so deep it hit my core. It said, “Once conscious of life’s end we make the best of it!” RWB

Holy shit! It was like that quote woke me up and made me realize what’s been going on since my mother Eileen died back in October. I haven’t written anything about my mother’s death and rarely speak if it. 

I say died because when I walked into the comfort care room with the nurse at the care facility 30 seconds after she died I said, “Oh no, she’s dead.” 

My mother didn’t pass away peacefully in her sleep like I imagined she would. The look of terror and fear in her wide open dead eyes was shocking to me. The expression on the rest of her face, that was turned facing the door I walked through has haunted me since that night. 

The image I saw looked just like or worse than any Halloween corpse mask I had ever seen. When I was in her room with the staff gathering together some of her items to take home I would forget and turn around or look up and see it over and over. 

Every day I have to get rid of that last image of my mother. I am sad that it is the last thing I saw but then again she always left me upset whenever I visited while she was alive; this was just the icing on the cake. I kept thinking she got me good this time. The last time.

After reading Robert’s quote many things about that image make sense now. That image showed me what the end of someone’s life really looks like. Maybe that’s why it terrified me so much. 

The only dead people I have ever seen have been in an open casket in a funeral parlor. The last time I saw my dad in his casket was extremely difficult and upsetting but at least he looked like he was peacefully sleeping. 

Marty and Sam have seen their share of dead people over the years on the rescue squad. Marty was an assistant medical examiner for a couple of years and Sam is a nurse. When I say their share, I mean a lot.

When I told them what my mother looked like they told me that’s how dead people look. Ok, not helping fellas. I felt sheltered and stupid. I always knew I wasn’t cut out for the medical field, now I was 100% certain.

After seeing what the end of one’s life looks like I did become conscious of it without me knowing. I told myself during the pandemic I was going to make the best of the life I have right now. We don’t know when that day will be so we better make the most of it.

Since then, I’ve gone to NYC twice in one month to see my favorite play Hamilton with Marty and again with my sister Jennifer. All I could think of while I was in the city was, “Why in fucks name did it take you so long to come back dummy?” I am talking about the decade before the pandemic so that’s not an excuse. 

Tonight, we are going to our first concert since the pandemic. It’s a hard rock concert in Glen’s Falls, NY. We are seeing the bands Seether and Breaking Benjamin whom we have seen a few years back.

When Marty asked me if I wanted to go I didn’t hem and haw about it like I normally would have. I said yes right away. He asked me a few days ago if I wanted to go see another band this summer I’ve been dying to see. I bounced around the house saying, “Yes!”

Robert’s quote came from the death of his own mother this time last year. In that time he decided he was going to lose weight, which he has lost 60 lbs so far and to do an activity for exercise he would enjoy. 

He picked dirt bike riding as his exercise.  My son Noah who dirt bikes told me a while ago that people don’t realize how physical a sport it is. Robert can dirt bike and spend time with his son while they are both getting in a fun workout. Good for them!

Now when that final image of my mother pops into my head, instead of telling it to go away, I’ll thank it for reminding me to do the things I want to do and go to the places I want to travel to. To live my life now and have fun. 

“Once you become conscious of life’s end you make the best of it!”

Thanks so much to my friend Robert Wilson Barnes of Greenville, SC for letting me share his quote and story. 🙂

Marty’s brisket…

Last summer, we tried teaching ourselves how to use a smoker. We had many failures and a success or two by the end of the summer.

Smoking meats is not grilling. Grilling is predictable and manageable like cooking. Smoking meats is getting the wood fire to a perfect low temperature and keeping it that way for hours. 

Keeping that low temp wood fire is much more complicated than you think. Airflow is a significant factor in temperature control. I find this part tricky because my fire always gets too hot.

Last summer, I incinerated a gorgeous brisket, a pork shoulder, and chicken parts beyond recognition. So damn annoying and wasteful, but we learned what not to do, so there’s that.

We found out that professional temperature probes are essential for smoking meats. Sam gave me a set of probes with digital remotes for Christmas. 

I used the temp probes for different meats I roasted over the winter, and guess what? Everything came out perfectly done. Go figure! 

Marty wanted to try smoking the brisket this time; I was okay with it and glad he wanted to take charge. I made the sides—no pressure for me.

He used the temp probes, putting one in the smoker and one in the brisket. The brisket was seasoned with only salt and pepper, as the pros do—no other rubs.

He kept an eye on the brisket during the 5-hour smoke. It was a small brisket, only around 4 lbs, so he was careful to go slow and low as they tell you to do.

After 2 hours into the smoke time, he wrapped the brisket tightly with foil and put it back in the smoker for 3 more hours. He kept checking the temperature on the remote he kept with him, which was better than constantly running back and forth to the smoker.

After taking the brisket out of the smoker, he kept it wrapped up for a couple more hours, sealing in all those juices.

Unwrapping smoked meats is like when you take a soufflé, popovers, or cream puffs out of the oven. You can’t open the oven to check on soufflés or pâte à choux (cream puffs) because they will deflate. This is a hold your breath moment. A moment that can go from cries of joy to what-the-fucks in a blink of an eye. 

When we unwrapped the brisket, it was gorgeous! It was soft and moist. It had the right amount of smoke taste and a beautiful red smoke ring. Marty was like a proud peacock! He should be because he nailed it! Woot woot!

It sliced easily and glistened. It had the right amount of fat and wasn’t dry at all. BBQ we’ve gotten out the last few times had been a disappointment. 

The disappointing briskets from a couple of bbq joints were extremely dry, flavorless meats that required copious amounts of sauces and a big beverage to choke them down. We almost gave up hope for good brisket again.

Every year I can remember my “best bite of the year” for years to come. These “best bites” become incredible food memories for me. This brisket was my “best bite of the year” so far.

Marty’s glistening brisket, candied sweet potatoes, and creamy coleslaw. OMG!

I wished I could have had my stomach stretched so I could have eaten more. The sides I made complimented the brisket like a symphony. Salty, sweet, creamy, tangy, crunchy, smokey, and delicious.

The brisket was perfectly smoked and had an incredible unctuous mouthfeel. What the fuckity is unctuous, you may be asking yourself?

Unctuous is a word that describes how moist, slippery, or fatty something is. It’s often used to describe foods rich in fat. It’s sexy food.

Using the word unctuous is describing something with total gluttony and not caring. We don’t eat unctuous foods every day, so when I do I enjoy the texture and richness; guilt-free.

Back to the brisket, I didn’t want this meal to end; it was that amazing. I reheated some brisket by steaming it this morning for Sam when he got home from his overnight shift at the hospital.

He got a huge smile on his face and couldn’t believe how moist and delicious the brisket was. “The smoke is perfect,” he said. I am smiling because the two of us are so much alike regarding food.

Marty’s delicious brisket was the last thing I thought about before I fell asleep last night; I kid you not! It was that good. Marty is now the head bbq smoker in the family. 🙌🏼

Front porch – 2022 edition…

The weather people lied again! The decent weather with sunshine didn’t happen until later Sunday afternoon. Saturday was too windy and cold to work outside, washing the house and front porch.

The front of our house and front porch has been in dire need of a good scrubbing with a house cleaner. We get a lot of dust and dirt living on the main road, but it’s all part of the charm of living in an old historic house.

We talked about our front porch when we were stuck at home with covid and decided to change things up this year.

We both agreed on no huge petunias this year. They block the view of the street and make a mess. I loved them but want a cleaner look with less upkeep.

We picked out some new pillows and outdoor area rugs, a small plant stand, and a couple of candles. I still need to buy some new flower pots and eventually flowers. 

Project dirty porch lasted most of the day, but we were happy with the results. Everything is clean, including the sectional furniture that needed a good scrub.

Klausie-boy & Otto

The sun came out while we were finishing up, then we sat on the porch with a drink for the first time this year. The boys, Otto & Klaus were so happy to be sitting on the porch again too. Otto looked like a young pup in this one photo.

It’s still cold and far from summer weather, but I didn’t mind wearing a hoody sipping a glass of Prosecco while watching the world whiz by. 🙁

Thai pork peanut curry…

I was thinking last week that for someone who has a cooking and living blog, I haven’t written about food for a few weeks.

For three weeks or so, our business, The Vermont Spätzle Company, was rocking. We had spätzle orders from our wholesale accounts out the ass. We worked hard, pulling double production days to fill all of those orders.

It was almost like the universe dumped all the orders on us at once in that short time period because right after we were done, we got covid. The universe has a funny way of doing those types of things. I always acknowledge those situations and am grateful.

Did we eat while we were busy with production? Of course, we ate but nothing to write home about. A few years ago, a friend of mine asked me on Facebook if we “ever ate the same shit like everyone else?” I am not sure if my friend Randy or his twin brother Ray asked, but it still makes me giggle when I think about it.

Tonight I went with Thai cuisine. I love Thai food and how flavorful everything is. When I say flavorful, I don’t mean spicy; that’s what my timid eating cooking students thought. They learned when you are making any cuisine; you have control over the amount of spice you put into a dish. Just because a recipe calls for a certain amount, you can add a little at a time or none at all.

I used a popular recipe on the internet, one that a million food bloggers call their own when they are copying and pasting. Come on, people, this is your business for Christs’ sake; at least change things up to make it look like your own. They all even use the same photo! 🤦🏻‍♀️

I’ve learned a trick or two when preparing Thai cuisine that makes such a difference. Things once again they don’t tell you in recipes. For instance, whenever I make a Thai curry dish, I slowly poach whatever protein in the curry sauce. This gentle cooking method doesn’t dry the protein out like if you stir fry it first as the recipes instruct doing.

I have most of the curry dishes down when it comes to Thai cooking, but I still haven’t made a Pad Thai dish I am happy with. It’s a work in progress that is taking years. I order it sometimes when I go out to remind my palate what I am shooting for.

The recipe I made tonight is easy, even if you’ve never made Thai food before. Here is the link to the recipe I used. If you don’t like spicy food, start with a tablespoon of curry paste instead of the 4 Tbsp the recipe calls for.

Speaking of curry paste, where can you find it? Thai curry pastes are available in the ethnic section of most supermarkets; you don’t have to make a special trip to an Asian market to find some. If I can find curry paste up here in Vermont, you can find it anywhere.

I served my pork peanut curry with jasmine rice which I always use a rice cooker for. This small appliance is invaluable to me because I hate babysitting rice while it’s cooking. It’s tough to make a perfect pot of rice, believe it or not. All Asian people own a rice cooker and use it every day.

I also roasted some brussel sprouts and tossed them last minute with a bit of Thai sweet chili sauce, soy sauce, and sesame oil and threw them back into the oven for a few minutes. They became caramelized and tasty.

Today we picked up a brisket that we found on sale when we went grocery shopping. The cupboards were pretty bare after being in isolation for ten days. We needed to do a big shop even though Sam picked up a few important essentials like milk and chocolate pudding cups for me. 😜

Since we will still be home from our farmers market tomorrow, we will fire up the smoker and make our first brisket of the year. We learned a lot about what not to do last year, so hopefully, it will turn out smokey, juicy, and delicious. I’ll report back. Smoking meats is no easy task, even though they make it look easy on tv.

Happy Friday! Enjoy your weekend, everyone. I will be doing some outdoor projects taking advantage of the nicer weather with sunshine in the forecast! 😎