Mind you, there is nothing wrong with your mom's mac and cheese. But here is a variation that is dangerously delicious: Adjust recipe for number of people. I have no amounts here, that is how I cook when the recipe is my own. Sorry. I make enough for around three people.
Macaroni, ziti, or some other short pasta
One chile poblano
Cream
Chicken consomé powder or cube
Manchego, Chihuahua or Monterrey Jack cheese
Cook the pasta and drain well. Pour into a baking dish.
Prepare the chile: if you live in an area where you can find frozen chile poblano, go for it. They are already charred and ready to use. If you have to buy a fresh chile poblano, notice the stem end. If the stem is sunk into the chile with a big indentation around it, avoid this chile because it will be hot. Hunt for a chile with the stem end minus the indentation.
Char the chile over a direct flame until the skin is blackened and splitting. Put the chile into a plastic bag in order to sweat it, ten to fifteen minutes. Strip off the skin as well as you can, cut off the stem end, and remove the seeds and veins. Be careful not to touch your face; you can use rubber gloves or you can oil your hands in order to avoid the chile's heat. Poblanos are not very powerful but they are uncomfortable when rubbed into your eyes!
If using a frozen poblano, just thaw out, remove the stem end, seeds, and veins.
Put the chile into the blender with cream and chicken consomé powder or a crumbled cube; I use half a cube for a three-serving amount. Add the cream and chile mixture to the macaroni and stir well. Cover the macaroni with grated cheese and pop into the oven until the cheese is melted and beginning to brown.
If the chile poblano makes your eyes burn or makes you cough as you remove the seeds and veins, it may be too hot unless you really enjoy heat. It can be toned down by the salt in the dish, or by letting it soak a while in salty water. Dry and proceed to blend. If you pay attention to the shape of the chile and the stem end, you should be okay.
jueves, 19 de julio de 2012
More odds and ends...
On this month's reading list, "The Future of Freedom: Illiberal Democracy" is a must for anyone who would like a succinct statement of how democracy works--or doesn't work that well--in the aftermath of laws permitting more democracy but inhibiting real freedom. Sounds strange, but it explains beautifully why so many of us think Congress is the biggest collection of rogues, con men, and idiots to come down the tubes--and that holds on my side of the border as well, although for different reasons.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the husband is on the mend, mother on the mend, dog and horse in the hands of vets, and I am waiting for everyone to get shipshape so that I can take my turn being hospitalized or sick!
My park companion, TootSweet, has an eye infection that may actually be an allergy; although I don't know how it is possible for something two blocks away to cause an allergy in my dog when whatever it is doesn't affect him in his own back yard, there is always that possibility. At the moment the vets are trying a change in antibiotic, although they are beginning to suspect the allergy. The next step is either a biopsy of eyelid tissue, or a few days away from the park to see if that helps. Obviously, the Toots will not go to the park for a while if the change in antibiotic doesn't do the trick.
Gitano, on the other hand, has developed a kind of blister over his backbone, almost over the haunches, which seems to be a sequelae of his former owner's use of a big, heavy, stiff saddle that was poorly fitted to the horse. It reminds me of the Animal Planet series on animal intelligence: every kind of animal has unplumbed depths of perception and smarts that we are just beginning to understand, but I notice that people aren't included on the show. If only my horse's former owner could be one of the test subjects! With luck, he might rank up there with the invertebrates.
People are incredibly cruel to animals, and I am sure that Nature is going to wreak some kind of horrendous vengeance. Maybe that will happen when we overfish the seas into emptiness, or eliminate the habitats of so many species, or when the rain forests no longer exist and our sources of medicines have dried up along with them. It seems odd to me that so many people who believe in a benign deity don't take the trouble to care for the Earth. The short term goal always seems to predominate, as if we were never going to have to pay the piper--you know, a kind of ecological subprime loan.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the husband is on the mend, mother on the mend, dog and horse in the hands of vets, and I am waiting for everyone to get shipshape so that I can take my turn being hospitalized or sick!
My park companion, TootSweet, has an eye infection that may actually be an allergy; although I don't know how it is possible for something two blocks away to cause an allergy in my dog when whatever it is doesn't affect him in his own back yard, there is always that possibility. At the moment the vets are trying a change in antibiotic, although they are beginning to suspect the allergy. The next step is either a biopsy of eyelid tissue, or a few days away from the park to see if that helps. Obviously, the Toots will not go to the park for a while if the change in antibiotic doesn't do the trick.
Gitano, on the other hand, has developed a kind of blister over his backbone, almost over the haunches, which seems to be a sequelae of his former owner's use of a big, heavy, stiff saddle that was poorly fitted to the horse. It reminds me of the Animal Planet series on animal intelligence: every kind of animal has unplumbed depths of perception and smarts that we are just beginning to understand, but I notice that people aren't included on the show. If only my horse's former owner could be one of the test subjects! With luck, he might rank up there with the invertebrates.
People are incredibly cruel to animals, and I am sure that Nature is going to wreak some kind of horrendous vengeance. Maybe that will happen when we overfish the seas into emptiness, or eliminate the habitats of so many species, or when the rain forests no longer exist and our sources of medicines have dried up along with them. It seems odd to me that so many people who believe in a benign deity don't take the trouble to care for the Earth. The short term goal always seems to predominate, as if we were never going to have to pay the piper--you know, a kind of ecological subprime loan.
miércoles, 4 de julio de 2012
In Praise of Technology
All kinds of bad things are happening as a result of technology; to hear people talk, you'd think the devil himself had turned up on the motherboard.
Yes, people are forgetting how to use cursive script because they don't write much any more except by keyboard, but somehow this is like lamenting the loss of washing clothes by hand--it may be an artesanal skill, it may have cultural value, but most of us do so much better with the washing machine. It is truly a shame that people no longer write letters, because letters have been the record of history itself. But in the age of information, your main worry is that you don't show up on YouTube. There are plenty of people writing about history and contemporary politics, and information--good, bad, and mediocre--flood us now.
It makes me think of the European enchantment with Mexican Indians and their culture. Europeans come over to study them, to wear Indian jewelry or clothing, to adopt political stances about conserving the Indian cultures and mores, but those mores are responsible for the abject, hunger-causing poverty of these tribes, for the total subjugation of women in these tribes, and for the almost universal lack of higher education even among the boys. If that is the price to pay for a few Indian dances and some woven baskets, it isn't worth it by a long shot. I have visited these tribes, and know whereof I speak.
Technology has permitted my mom to stay in touch with dozens of friends and family; now that she is seriously ill, it has enabled me to stay in touch with my brother by iPhone. That alone has been worth the trip for me. So let's hear it for technology. It doesn't mean you can't write a letter in longhand or learn how to spell and punctuate, so what's the problem?
Yes, people are forgetting how to use cursive script because they don't write much any more except by keyboard, but somehow this is like lamenting the loss of washing clothes by hand--it may be an artesanal skill, it may have cultural value, but most of us do so much better with the washing machine. It is truly a shame that people no longer write letters, because letters have been the record of history itself. But in the age of information, your main worry is that you don't show up on YouTube. There are plenty of people writing about history and contemporary politics, and information--good, bad, and mediocre--flood us now.
It makes me think of the European enchantment with Mexican Indians and their culture. Europeans come over to study them, to wear Indian jewelry or clothing, to adopt political stances about conserving the Indian cultures and mores, but those mores are responsible for the abject, hunger-causing poverty of these tribes, for the total subjugation of women in these tribes, and for the almost universal lack of higher education even among the boys. If that is the price to pay for a few Indian dances and some woven baskets, it isn't worth it by a long shot. I have visited these tribes, and know whereof I speak.
Technology has permitted my mom to stay in touch with dozens of friends and family; now that she is seriously ill, it has enabled me to stay in touch with my brother by iPhone. That alone has been worth the trip for me. So let's hear it for technology. It doesn't mean you can't write a letter in longhand or learn how to spell and punctuate, so what's the problem?
lunes, 2 de julio de 2012
Old and Tired!
We have had a difficult few weeks, to put it mildly. First, Beto was hospitalized with dehydration and has spent over a week recovering at home. Although I got too tired with the stress of his hospitalization, nothing could keep me from going to Laredo with my daughter to pick up my new saddle, which even as we speak straddles the back seat of my car.
Unfortunately, three days or so before our trip, my throat began to hurt on one side and I noticed that walking the dog and trotting really tired me out; but since fibromyalgia tricks you into thinking that it is responsible every time you feel bad, I paid no attention to how I felt.
In Laredo, even though we stayed overnight, I did too much on our first day. That night I could have recovered except that our next-door neighbors were candidates for this year's "Colossal Butt-Bung Prize", awarded to people so idiotic and lacking in consideration that only a CAT scan could be presented as proof of the existence of a brain. The kids and the father ran up and down the hall laughing and slamming the door to the room until around eleven-thirty, at which point I whipped open my own door, caught them in full swimming gear on their way to the hotel pool, and gave them an instant dressing-down. It could have been my own state of dress, though, that shocked them, since I had my pajamas on and my hair looked like a victim of a Texas tornado.
Although there was no more loud talking in the hallway, the kids did manage to slam the door to their room enough to wake me up periodically until about one a.m. I was too tired to call the management, since that would have kept me awake even longer.
I got my revenge in the morning. Karina and I woke up early, and I began taking our stuff out to the car. Every time I left our room, I slammed the door hard enough to register on the Richter Scale. There was a "Do Not Disturb" sign on our neighbors' doorknob, so that added fuel to my flame. Gosh knows how many times I slammed that door, and Karina added her own dose as well. I hope we woke them up each and every time.
Our car loaded and the last of our shopping taken care of in the morning, off we went to Nuevo Laredo. At first we were going to declare Karina's clothes purchases for the girls, but it was evident we would be there waiting in line the rest of the morning, so we decided to go for broke and forget the whole thing. But everything was odd--check-point after check-point, traffic reduced to one lane as we were carefully inspected by soldiers. I guess we looked fairly harmless--a nice-looking lady and her ancient mother--and it was only late in the day after getting home and putting my feet up that I saw on the news that a car bomb had gone of in front of the Nuevo Laredo municipal townhall just about the time we were crossing the border into Nuevo Laredo. No wonder no one gave a hoot about what we had bought. The authorities were concerned about explosions (no, we heard nothing), not ladies buying clothes for little girls.
By this time I had a cold sore on my lower lip and Sunday came with me feeling like death warmed over. I invited everyone over for tiramisú and coffee in the afternoon because Beto and I hadn't seen our grandkids in ages. That night I stayed up again, this time watching the election results; Mexico elected a new president, and several governorships were up for grabs. The coverage was great, so once more I didn't get enough sleep. Today is a disaster, so I am going to vegetate completely, see no patients, and live on Advil.
It rained, though, soaking our lawn. It even hailed, but my dill plants and cilantro came through just fine. They are doing a lot better than I am!
Unfortunately, three days or so before our trip, my throat began to hurt on one side and I noticed that walking the dog and trotting really tired me out; but since fibromyalgia tricks you into thinking that it is responsible every time you feel bad, I paid no attention to how I felt.
In Laredo, even though we stayed overnight, I did too much on our first day. That night I could have recovered except that our next-door neighbors were candidates for this year's "Colossal Butt-Bung Prize", awarded to people so idiotic and lacking in consideration that only a CAT scan could be presented as proof of the existence of a brain. The kids and the father ran up and down the hall laughing and slamming the door to the room until around eleven-thirty, at which point I whipped open my own door, caught them in full swimming gear on their way to the hotel pool, and gave them an instant dressing-down. It could have been my own state of dress, though, that shocked them, since I had my pajamas on and my hair looked like a victim of a Texas tornado.
Although there was no more loud talking in the hallway, the kids did manage to slam the door to their room enough to wake me up periodically until about one a.m. I was too tired to call the management, since that would have kept me awake even longer.
I got my revenge in the morning. Karina and I woke up early, and I began taking our stuff out to the car. Every time I left our room, I slammed the door hard enough to register on the Richter Scale. There was a "Do Not Disturb" sign on our neighbors' doorknob, so that added fuel to my flame. Gosh knows how many times I slammed that door, and Karina added her own dose as well. I hope we woke them up each and every time.
Our car loaded and the last of our shopping taken care of in the morning, off we went to Nuevo Laredo. At first we were going to declare Karina's clothes purchases for the girls, but it was evident we would be there waiting in line the rest of the morning, so we decided to go for broke and forget the whole thing. But everything was odd--check-point after check-point, traffic reduced to one lane as we were carefully inspected by soldiers. I guess we looked fairly harmless--a nice-looking lady and her ancient mother--and it was only late in the day after getting home and putting my feet up that I saw on the news that a car bomb had gone of in front of the Nuevo Laredo municipal townhall just about the time we were crossing the border into Nuevo Laredo. No wonder no one gave a hoot about what we had bought. The authorities were concerned about explosions (no, we heard nothing), not ladies buying clothes for little girls.
By this time I had a cold sore on my lower lip and Sunday came with me feeling like death warmed over. I invited everyone over for tiramisú and coffee in the afternoon because Beto and I hadn't seen our grandkids in ages. That night I stayed up again, this time watching the election results; Mexico elected a new president, and several governorships were up for grabs. The coverage was great, so once more I didn't get enough sleep. Today is a disaster, so I am going to vegetate completely, see no patients, and live on Advil.
It rained, though, soaking our lawn. It even hailed, but my dill plants and cilantro came through just fine. They are doing a lot better than I am!
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