happy thanksgiving!!!

pulled off of you tube because you can't find any clips of this anywhere! anyways... wishing you and your family a happy thanksgiving!

Today Was A Good Day

Writing... I haven't written anything but emails for the last week. I feel a little like the Tin Man, rusty and creaky. A few squirts of oil and we are off to see the wizard. Let's see how this goes.


*wonder twin powers, activate!

First, I need to say many thanks to Melissa for covering while I was gone. As Donald said, "she did me a solid." Yes Don, she did and for that I owe her. Melissa and I are Wonder Twins. We haven't decided who's Zan and Jayna, yet. But in that Wonder Twins way, we are a lot alike without the weird sexual tension or incestuous undertones.

Anyways,

Melissa did my 500th post.
She did it about my favorite meal.
One I have never blogged about before.

Namaste, my Wonder Twin!

Thank you everyone for your emails, kind words, prayers, and good thoughts.

And one special thanks to the Spelling 5-0. She knows who she is.

Snippets From The Hospital...


*sunset from a hospital window...

A couple thoughts from the hospital because, to state the obvious, I haven't cooked anything spectacular or even remotely blog-able in the past week.

MRI's... You can't beat Catholic Heathcare but Jesus... (wait, that might be the wrong thing to say) why don't you have a MRI machine on the premises? I know they are expensive and you have to have special crap to make it work, but and it's a big but, not having an MRI machine makes absolutely no sense in a hospital. Or maybe I've watched to much House and ER... doesn't everyone need an MRI? Isn't that like standard hospital procedure?

But if you are going to have those cute EMT's take my Grandmother to get her MRI, by all means go ahead and forget the above statement. I almost slipped them my number, they were that cute. And sweet... let's talk about sweet. They stopped by her room later in the day just to say hi. Oooorrr maybe he wanted to slip me his number?

Get me to a hospital STAT! I am suffering from delusions of grandeur!



So... the doctor says every day that my grandmother is alive is a good day. For some people, that's grim but for me it's hopeful because it puts things in perspective and funny because when the doctor said that the first thing that popped up in my head was this song. What my 84 year old grandma has to do with a gangsta rap song from the 90's is unclear to me at this point. She's never had to use her AK, I don't even think she knows what one is.



Also, when my Grandmother was doing physical therapy this popped into my head. It was literally... slide to the left, slide to the right. Can you go down low? I thought I could be a physical therapist. Then I thought maybe at DUI stops, instead of doing the fingertip to nose deal and the walk in a straight line, maybe they should have everybody do the cha-cha slide. See, then the cops don't have to do one person at a time. They can get a whole bunch of people together, do the cha-cha slide, pick out all the drunk ones and arrest them. Look at that... I saved tax payers millions of dollars and generated extra revenue because everyone would be arrested.

And the award for the post with the most potential to be funny but instead was way to random goes to... ME! Thank you! Thank you!

Wish me luck because today the Baking Goddess and I are going to meet up. It might get ugly, folks. I might have to use my AK. (I crack myself up! Actually, I groaned because I know how ridiculous it sounds)

hello, hello, hello, is there anybody in there?

Hi everyone!

"HI MELISSA!"

Yo.

Some of you might know me, and some of you might not. I'm Melissa from Alosha's Kitchen. Krysta honored me by asking me to post for her in her absence these few days while she is tending to other needs and priorities.

Before and above anything else, she wanted me to thank all of you for the warm thoughts and words being sent to her and her family. Some of her family does read her blog and the love and kindness being conveyed by all of you is so, so appreciated. It's amazing the support that can come from our community to a soul in need of care. Keep sending those vibes for ease and comfort.

In the meantime, I can only try to take up some kind of "krysta vibe" while she is unable to be present herself. And while I can't quite do that, I have to say, it makes me that much more confident that I am making the right decision.

What I mean is...

Krysta has long been an inspiration for me. Because, you see, I have a personal blog and a food blog both. And for all this time I have kept them separate. But I don't want to do that any more. When I met Krysta a bit back, I saw the way her blog worked - she talked about life, marriage, kids, beauty, politics, music... AND food - and I couldn't help but think "that's the kind of voice I want to have."

My personal blog and food blog are both lacking something. I've thought about it for a long time, for everyone that visits each one individually. What they are lacking is a voice like Krysta's. A connect between food and the rest of her life and her experience. Because everything we experience outside of food - as people who love food - affects what we put on our tables.

I will be merging my blogs at some point and look forward to the transition. But for now, in honor of Krysta, this is my first post that tries to do both, that ties one to another. Thank you, dear woman. Love you, my wonder twin. ;) This is me subbing Krysta, serious side...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Steve and I got married in Dallas in 1996, we were very poor. The first couple of years we were dating, at 18, 19, we worked at various transient jobs, just getting by. But we were happy. And we knew we were right with one another. More than right. We were best friends.

When Steve joined the Marines at the age of 20, I was disappointed. Granted, it would create opportunity in his life (and he did only stay for 4 years), but all I could think about was the negative. We would be apart, he would change, things would be up in the air. Because when you're just boyfriend and girlfriend, well, they'll put you anywhere. But when you're married...

So while he was in boot camp, I took the leap. I asked him to marry me. And he told me he would be the best husband he could be, for as long as I would let him. He loved me. And I loved him. And there was no way we weren't going to be together.

So our wedding rings cost $40 apiece. I had no engagement ring. But none of that mattered. We got married at his aunt's house, with a small amount of family and friends in attendance. And we had a wedding party the night before, hosted by his mother and sister. And as you can probably guess, a caterer was not involved. Instead, we had a dinner that we asked for, that they made, which consisted of one of the only wonderful things I ate when I was young. Shredded chicken tacos. It doesn't sound like much, but ohhhh ohhhh oh OH. You just don't know.

I didn't know anything about down home Mexican food before I was with Steve. But these tacos? These tasted truly Mexican. One tortilla, a scoop of juicy, delicious chicken, sour cream, onion, hot sauce... it was heavenly. Like nothing else. It was a perfect meal to send us off with. Something to remember, something to compare everything else to, absolutely.

As I started cooking, which, as many of you know, was not long ago, I of course attempted Mexican food. For Steve's sake, for sure, but also because I love it. And I got the rice down. I made that a few times and Steve said I could serve it to his family and he would be proud. Hell yeah.

And then I mastered the beans (thanks Rancho Gordo!). And he said it was like having breakfast at his grandmother's house. Yesssss! Success.

But I was still missing a main dish. An authentic flavored meat to go inside those barely oiled and crisped wraps of beauty. I just never could quite accomplish it.

And then I found this recipe. And... wait, wait... oh my god... I couldn't believe it. THIS.WAS.IT. These babies tasted just like... hmm, what is it babe? "The chicken tacos." "YES! The chicken tacos! But with beef!"

Exactly.

And just like the ones of my memory, the lightly fried corn tortillas sealed the deal. And any toppings added just made it even more... screw the superlatives, you get it.

This brought us right back to the beginning. *Smile* Man. Steve even helped this night by doing the shredding. And when we sat down and took our first bite, we knew, oh yeah, it was some good honest Texas-Mexican cuisine. Just like we remembered from those times so long ago.

Finally.

Shredded Beef Tacos
courtesy of Jen Yu at Use Real Butter

Ingredients

1½ pounds eye of chuck (like Jen said, this is NOT chuck roast)
4 tbsp vegetable oil
2 tbsp vinegar
2 tbsp fresh lime juice
1½ tsp ground cumin
1½ tsp chili powder
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 cup beef stock
salt to taste

Corn tortillas

My toppings: chopped tomato, onion, and cilantro, freshly grated cheese, diced jalapenos

Directions

Trim the fat and cut the beef into 1 inch thick slices.

In a ziploc bag, combine the oil, vinegar, lime juice, cumin, chili powder, and garlic. Place the meat slices in the bag, seal, mix it around and refrigerate for at least 4 hours or overnight (do it overnight!).

Bring the meat to room temperature. Place all contents from the bag in a baking dish with the beef stock. Cover the dish and bake for 1¼ hours at 350°F. Let the meat rest for 10 minutes and then shred it with forks (or have someone else like your spouse do it so your arms don't get tired from shredding HA). Salt the meat to your liking.

Fry the tortillas lightly in a little hot oil and stuff them with shredded beef and choice of toppings.

thoughts at 1 in the morning...

hospital time is stretchy... it's like cotton candy... fuzzy, no beginning or end... bitterly sweet, dissolves, leaves you feeling empty.

doctors are obtuse... i'm sure they need to be... who in the hell knows what is actually wrong with my grandmother... stroke? congestive heart failure? she's awfully disorientated, feisty, wants to walk, but all the tubes keep her close to the bed. she's not blue, she's not cold, matter of fact she complained she's hot. she doesn't remember that's she's in the hospital, she wants to take a shower... that doesn't look like failure to me that looks like a stroke but i didn't pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to have letters behind my name and i'm just the granddaughter so what in the hell do i know??? very frustrating.

hospital foods sucks... my mom asks if i'm going to blog about it...funnily enough, no... except grandma wants a piece of pizza but she wants to order it. we can't buy it for her, she wants to feed us. once a mom, always a mom. i go down stairs to the cafeteria and buy her a large piece of a cheese pizza. blatantly sneak it up stairs. she's in her 80's, if she wants a piece of pizza, she can damn well have a piece of pizza. she ate pretty much all of it. to hell with her no sodium diet... just for today.

don't get old, she tells my brother...

the best part of getting old is not being able to hear everything, she tells my mom...

the woman in the next bed is famous... wants chocolate... wants someone to tell her where she is... the nurses have their hands full with her... nurses have the hardest job in the world.

today at ten is an mri... maybe a good night's sleep will help reboot her brain and she'll be better, that's my inner child thinking... the very adult side of my brain says this is permanent...

i helped but on my grandma's socks this afternoon... it's funny how roles switch... how many times did she do that for her four kids and her 12 grandchildren? i feel very much like an adult now... there's no turning back...

did i mention how hospital time is stretchy?

Question...

*oh dear god... why?

When a man (or a woman for that matter) says he's a breast or a leg man... does that also translate into what his favorite part of a chicken or turkey is?

for example: if he likes pam anderson, he's going to want one of those big huge turkeys that can't even walk because the turkey breasts are so huge?

The Argument...

Hello everyone and welcome to another edition of Wild Kingdom. Brought to you by Mutual of Omaha. I'm your host Marlin Perkins. Today, Jim is in the Rocky Mountains to give you a glimpse of Big Horn Sheep.



"Hi Marlin! As you know we are up in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains to catch a glimpse of some Big Horn Sheep. Prior to mating season Big Horn Sheep often clash. The rams attempt to establish a dominance hierarchy that determines access to ewes for mating. It is during the prerut period that most of the characteristic horn clashing occurs between rams.* This horn clashing can be loud and scary but most often times the rams come out uninjured. But Marlin, there is a strange phenomena happening... there is a gender confused ewe clashing with a male. Let's see if we can get closer to find out what's going on. Jeff, see if you can focus the cameras on those two sheep in the distance and can you also turn on our special sheep translator on so everyone can understand what the sheep are saying."

"Ethel, why can't you cook something I want for a change."

BAM!!!

"Buddy, every time I ask you want you want for dinner, you tell me 'I don't care.' or you tell me 5 minutes before I start cooking dinner you want pot roast. Seriously Buddy, that's unfair. It takes hours for a pot roast not including defrosting time. I know you think I'm a great cook but damn."

BAM!!!

"Ethel, can't you just make me a tuna casserole?"

BAM!!!

"No, I can't make you a tuna casserole. You knew when I married you I would never make a tuna casserole. It was put in the prenup. If you want it so bad, make it yourself"

BAM!!!

camera panning back to Jim

"Well, there you have it Marlin. These two sheep are clashing over tuna casserole."

cut to commercial

Well, there you go folks. Rich and I are having a fight over, of all things, tuna casserole. I absolutely hate it and he wants me to make it for him. Now I love my husband very much, he works really hard... blah, blah, blah... I'm not trying to diminish what he does but I think you get the gist of what I'm trying to say. I told him before we were married that I would not make tuna casserole, I couldn't stand it. It makes me gag... blah, blah, blah. So, we are at a stand still. He wants it, I won't make it but neither will he.

I want to know... should I stand my ground, I made it very clear before we were married that I wouldn't make it or should I throw in the towel, overcome the nausea and gagging and make the damn thing already?

What would you do?

I have already thought about making the worst tuna casserole ever but that just doesn't seem right.

*thank you wiki...

As The Potato Peels

When we last left Krysta... she was stranded on a deserted island with two men and a life altering decision. Should she choose the handsome and talented, Eric or the reformed bad boy, Tony?

Meanwhile back at home...

Krysta's evil identical twin, Christina Shane, has flawlessly assumed Krysta's identity. Or so Christina Shane thought.

But some in Green Valley thought something was amiss about Krysta. She just wasn't the same Krysta everyone knew and loved but no one could put their finger on what was different. The new Krysta first decided to make something decidedly French and then took a picture as she normally does, but this picture, this picture was a dead giveaway. Bad lighting and it looked gross. Not up to par with Krysta's standards.

(cue ominous music)


*so bad it's good.

It was a dark and stormy night and Christina Shane sat alone in Krysta's kitchen.

"Look away, The photo is horribly, horribly disfigured!" Christina Shane screamed to herself. "I'll never tell anybody where Krysta is! She's the evil one. I'm the good one. She's a thrice timing hussy. Eric or Tony. Ha! She had a perfectly good husband and four beautiful kids at home and she took off with those two. What an ass. Green Valley has me, a potato ho with a heart of gold. My pictures aren't great but who cares? I'll cook Green Valley all the potatoes they could ever want! Hahahahahahaha!"

What will happen next? Will Green Valley accept Christina Shane as one of their own or will she be shipped to the loony bin? Will Christina's secret identity be safe or does she need some serious meds? And who was that mysterious figure watching Christina Shane through the window? Stay tuned for the next episode of As The Potato Peels.

Truffade: (Saveur Magazine November 2008)

2 lbs. new red or other waxy potatoes
1⁄4 cup canola oil
3 strips smoked bacon, cut into 1⁄2" slices
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
8 oz. grated cantal or gruyère cheese *I used 16 oz of blue cheese
8 oz. farmers' cheese (such as Friendship brand)
1 garlic clove, minced
2 tbsp. finely chopped chives

Using a mandoline, cut potatoes into 1⁄16"-thick slices. Place potatoes in a bowl of cold water; set aside. Heat oil in a 12" cast-iron or nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add bacon and cook, stirring, until its fat has rendered, about 6 minutes. Drain potatoes in a colander; add to the skillet. Season with salt and black pepper to taste. Cover the skillet and cook, stirring occasionally and crushing potatoes into small chunks with a wooden spoon, until potatoes are tender, 20–25 minutes. Add cheeses, and garlic to skillet; stir to combine. Reduce heat to medium-low; cover. Cook, scraping bottom of skillet with a wooden spoon, until cheese is melted and the potatoes are mashed, about 5 minutes. Stir vigorously and season with salt to taste. Sprinkle with chives and pepper to taste.

Tasting notes: This dish is the ultimate potato dish. It's between skillet potatoes and scalloped potatoes. With the bonus of cheese and bacon and some little extra crispy bits of the potatoes because every potato ho knows that is the best part of the potato. Easy and adaptable too. You have to make this dish, now. It's that good.

Ideas:

Filling for savory crepes.
Serve an egg on top.
Use pepper jack cheese instead of the gruyere and farmers cheese. Add some chilies and ham.
If you are having a small thankgiving, this would be a great substitute for mashed potatoes.




This is my entry, soap opera and all, for this month's Potato Ho Down hosted by Marye from Baking Delights.

Odds & Ends...

Odds:

I was tagged for meme by EOK... because typing Equal Opportunity Kitchen is way too long for me but then it's almost like how Rachael Ray always says EVOO then has to explain what EVOO stands for... it would have been just easier to type or say the thing instead.

Here's the meme...

You can take five items and are allowed one sentence in which to justify your decision. Tag whoever you like and link back! You are on a desert island so assume a plentiful supply of exotic fish, coconuts and sea salt. Ignore any issues regarding storage. There happens to be a very large solar powered refrigerator washed up on the shore as well.

So what am I going to take?

I am assuming there will be sunscreen on the island as well.


*For me? Why thank you!

1. Eric Ripert... yes,I'm bringing him along... more like kidnapping but I'm on an island who's going to issue a warrant for my arrest? No one, that's who! Think about it. I'm on a deserted island with lots of exotic fish who better that to cook it up for me than a premiere seafood Michelin starred chef???



2. I would be remiss to forget my husband.



3. Umm... two men + one woman + deserted island = a lifetime supply of birth control. Enough said.



4. A baker... there are lots of coconuts on the island and I want scones because I obviously can't bake them. I have bad scone mojo. Therefore, I need a baker.




5. A dream kitchen with a stocked pantry! If a solar powered fridge washed up on shore, then a fully stocked kitchen and pantry can too.

I'm not tagging anybody because I am daring you to come up with a better list!

Ends:

There is a new bunch of project assignments on 5 x 5 project. Please feel free to sign up for some. If you are a little gun shy put those fears aside. All this is about is a way for all of us to connect and see our world from a different viewpoint.

Yeah, The Baking Goddess Is a Bitch...

*these are my freshly wept tears...

You know what? That Baking Goddess? Yeah, well she's a bitch and I'm not sorry I said it. She is a mofo too. Not technically because that would be weird and my mom isn't THAT way but still, she's a mofo. No, not my mom, though I probably called her that a few times when I was a rebellious teenager but I digress. And if I call my my mom a mofo, I deserve to be slapped around a little 'cause that's just wrong... but I digress again.

I have been craving scones and shortbread. No, I am not pregnant. Anytime I say I'm craving something, my friend gives me so much crap. 'You must be pregnant' she always tells me. She does this to get me going. I start sputtering and stuttering and start calling her a mofo because there's no way in hell I'm going to have another kid. Actually, I don't call her a mofo because she would kick my ass. You know what, lets just get this out of my system...

mofo, mofo, mofo, mofo, mofo, mofo, mofo, mofo...

There I feel better.

So where was I?

The Baking Goddess, she's a bitch with a capitol B.
I have been craving scones and shortbread.
No, I am not pregnant
I obviously like to type the word mofo.

I made scones three times and three times they were a big FAIL.

Balsamic strawberry basil scones... FAIL.
Coconut scones... FAIL.
Coconut scones again... FAIL to the mofo-ing FAIL!!!

I made raspberry shortbread bars. FAIL. Thanks for playing.

What in the hell is going on? Do I need to set up a voodoo alter? Maybe sacrifice a chicken in The Baking Goddesses name? Or do you think she'd rather have a live virgin? And where do I find a live virgin? I'm thinking those might be hard to come by.

I decided that maybe I should super-duper clean my kitchen to get rid of all the bad baking mojo. Nancy and I cleaned the oven, then promptly shorted it. My husband yelled at me. How was I suppose to know you should turn off all the power to the kitchen. Really who does this? And this is how I decided that The Baking Goddess is a chick because only a woman would be this spiteful! Grrrr. Anyways, sparks flew, Nancy was almost electrocuted (she wasn't but it makes for a better story.) and I blamed everything on her (sorta true. I shouldn't have let her help me clean the oven and I'm ashamed but seriously would you turn down help if someone offered to help you clean the oven? Mmm-hmm, that's what I thought). The oven is fixed and the kitchen is sparkling Mr. Clean clean but I am a little gun shy at the moment to do any baking. Another failure could do permanent damage to my psyche.

If scrubbing away all the bad mojo doesn't work, does anyone know where I can get a live chicken or priest that does exorcisms? I'll only use the virgin sacrifice as a last resort. But don't put it past me...

Can This Marriage Be Saved?

Case History: A husband and wife, married 13 years. Four kids ages; 16, 13, 12, 10. Pretty good marriage except for that problem in the bedroom. Let's hear their side of the story...

Her: You know Doctor, I'm sick of this problem. I have had to deal with it for 15 years of living with him. I'm sick of it and I want a divorce. What's the problem? YOU WANT TO KNOW...WHAT'S THE PROBLEM? He's a blanket hog. The weather is turning cold and he takes all the blankets. Leaving me freezing and my lily white butt naked and uncovered, shriveled in the cold air. HE also sleeps in the middle of the bed. Not only do I not get any blankets, I only get a postage sized piece of mattress. Last time I checked, I live in California and I am entitled to HALF and since I'm not getting half, I want a divorce...or at least separate beds like you see in Leave It To Beaver.



His: I'm really sorry she feels this way but I only do it so she'll snuggle up to me at night and keep me warm. See, she's a heater box and she's always complaining she's hot and she's also not much of a cuddle-er. So I have to take away the blankets so she'll sleep close to me at night and keep me warm. As a wife, isn't she suppose to do this type of thing? As for the postage size stamp of mattress she gets... I'm a big guy, what did you expect?



Well folks, can this marriage be saved?

Dr. Melissa* says yes. Make this soup and everything will be better. In her expert opinion, soup makes everything better. If this soup inspired a blog, so it could probably bring about world peace and maybe a little matrimonial harmony.

Chicken Tortilla Soup: (adapted from Alosha's Kitchen)

1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 teaspoons chili powder
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 28-oz. can crushed tomatoes (use about 2/3 of the can)
6 cups chicken broth
1/2 to 1 jalapeno pepper, finely chopped. Start off with a little and adjust to your taste
1 can black beans, rinsed and drained
about 4 corn tortillas cut into one inch squares (this will help thicken up the soup)
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro
3 boneless chicken breast halves, cooked and cut into bite-sized pieces
salt and pepper to taste

Options:

crushed tortilla chips
sliced avocado
sour cream
shredded cheese (monterey jack, cheddar jack, mexican blend, cheddar, whatever)
chopped green onions
lime wedges to squeeze into soup

In a medium stock pot, heat oil over medium heat. Saute onion and garlic in oil until soft. Stir in chili powder, oregano, tomatoes and broth. Bring to a boil, and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes. Stir in corn tortillas, jalapeno, beans, cilantro, and chicken. Simmer for 10 minutes. Ladle soup into individual serving bowls, and top with the above options.

Tasting Notes: Oh so good. I made this in the morning and let it simmer all day on the stove. After a rainy day, it was perfect. Warm and spicy. Enough to fill you up and take the chill off without making you feel like you have a lead belly. This soup is now on my regular menu.

So, can this marriage be saved?

*Dr. Melissa isn't a real doctor. She only plays one on the Internet. I had to find a way to tie this post together and this is the best I could come up with... please forgive me.

echoes, silence, patience, and grace

Echoes and silence
Patience and grace
All of these moments
I'll never replace
No fear of my heart
Absence of faith
All I want is to be home

Foo Fighters

On Sunday we went for on a mini road trip. Everyone was home, no one had plans, games, work. There was a break between rain storms and with the time change the previous night, we knew no one would be at Point Reyes. We packed a lunch and headed out.

The beach was deserted. No one as far as you could see. The sand smooth from the waves churned up from the storm. In California, with a population of over 36 million... we were isolated from our daily life. No car horns, traffic, political signs, litter, or cell phones. Just the sound of the ocean.

Did I say no one was there. I lied. There were seagulls. Did you know seagulls are hams? Take out a camera and see what happens. They preen and squawk until you take their picture.

The seals? Well, they are like Greta Garbo. They just want to be left alone.

Me? I just want to bask in the sun like the seals and be left alone.

And the lady bug? Well, she was just there in all her glossy red beauty.

The light was amazing. One minute... the fog would roll in and the ocean would turn silvery.

Next... the sun would reign in the fog and say look at how beautiful everything is.

No matter where you walked, you had to stop every few minutes and marvel at how small we are and how vast the world can be. It is humbling. The light and fog dance around making everything change it's appearance. It whispers, 'Look at me. Take the time to enjoy all the beauty around you. Stop worrying about the small stuff. I'll carry it around for awhile, while you go and enjoy everything that has taken millions of years to create. The worries can wait, it will be here when you get back. Just let it go for awhile."

And I did.

When the clouds and fog would roll back in, everything would look black and white and give you a new perspective of something that was just in color not even two seconds ago. Trying to get a picture of that moment of shifting light was daunting and reminded me I cannot control everything. Something we probably need to be reminded of over and over again. Let your control go and see what comes to you.

"We live in illusion and the appearance of things. There is a reality. We are that reality. When you understand this, you see that you are nothing, and being nothing, you are everything. That is all. "

what say you?

wow...

Vote Spicy Cranberry Sauce

One last post about politics for awhile...

I don't even know how to tell this story because it isn't mine to really tell. Rich is forty six years old and has never voted until this year. Period. Never voted. It's as simple as it sounds. Never voted. Scary, huh? When I met him I was stunned. You could have knocked me over with that proverbial feather. For years after we got married, I tried to get him to register to vote. I begged, I pleaded, I nagged, I bartered sex. Nothing worked. He was not going to vote until....

Until, he said, he found someone worth voting for (you know where this is going but at the time in 2000 no one could see what was coming). I was discouraged and sad. He has a job where he can vote, in an election, for his boss. I used that for reasoning. I remember saying something along the lines of "Dude, how many times do people get to pick their boss? Vote. Most people would love the opportunity to vote for their boss and your wasting it." This line of reasoning didn't work. Nothing did. God, do you know how much I wanted to smack him around just to knock some sense into him? Then, in 2004, Rich saw Obama on TV speak at the DNC. My husband, the man who had to find someone worthy of his vote said, 'If this guy runs for president. I'll vote.' I remember thinking 'Yeah right.' When Audacity of Hope was published, I wrapped up the book with a voter registration form inside. Then the excuses came, 'I'll only vote if he wins this primary or I'll only vote if he wins the Democratic nomination'. Well, that wasn't going to cut it with me. I goaded him with, 'You must not really believe in him. How's he going to win if you don't vote for him in the beginning? Welsher. Liar.' He voted. He's voting on Tuesday. Yeah, you know who he's voting for. I don't want to hear about how Obama is a socialist or taxes or whatever because this post isn't about that. I don't care who my husband votes for. I care that he finally took part in something I believe so strongly in. This post is about how my husband found inspiration, he found someone that he feels is worthy of his voice, of his passion. I never thought that that was going to happen. Everybody needs to find that whether it be a person, a book, a hobby, a cause.

He's voting on Tuesday and I'm very proud of him.



This cranberry sauce is sweet, sour, tangy, spicy. Just like my Rich but I honestly couldn't tell which one I like better.

Spicy Cranberry Sauce:

1 cup sugar
1 cup of water
1 12 oz package of cranberries
1 tablespoon of sriracha
zest and juice of one blood orange

Combine water, sugar, sriracha, and zest and juice of a blood orange in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil; add cranberries and bring back to a boil. Reduce heat and boil gently for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Cover and cool completely at room temperature. Refrigerate until serving time.