We are all grateful that it has drizzled today, and thick clouds to the north are promising perhaps more drizzle. TootSweet not only went for his walk yesterday (in his case it's a trot, he doesn't seem able to walk), then went to the quinta with us and played with my son-in-law's two dogs, since he and his family showed up too. Playmates were a beagle and a Springer spaniel. Today I am going to make sure he rests.
Meanwhile, back at the homestead, I made the vanilla wafers and the banana pudding. Tasting the wafers showed that they are inferior to the commercial wafers, but the pudding is going to be wonderful anyway with loads of bananas and the fantastic filling.
Back to the drawing board, however. Next time I'm in the States, I will have to stock up on Nilla Wafers.
domingo, 8 de abril de 2012
viernes, 6 de abril de 2012
Vanilla wafers
No one should be without banana pudding. The entire world would benefit both physically and emotionally from a big dose. Unfortunately, as of several months ago, vanilla wafers have been notably absent from our stores here.
There is a specialty store not far from my house that specializes in stuff imported from the U.S., such as fondant for cakes, spices, buckwheat pancake mix, etc. They may or may not have vanilla wafers, but the prices in the place are outrageous. It's cheaper to drive to Laredo and stock up on cooking ingredients. But never fear, the Internet is here!
Yes, it's true, I found a recipe for vanilla wafers. I will report on the results as soon as I have a chance to try it out. Banana pudding looms in my future, and probably on my butt as well.
There is a specialty store not far from my house that specializes in stuff imported from the U.S., such as fondant for cakes, spices, buckwheat pancake mix, etc. They may or may not have vanilla wafers, but the prices in the place are outrageous. It's cheaper to drive to Laredo and stock up on cooking ingredients. But never fear, the Internet is here!
Yes, it's true, I found a recipe for vanilla wafers. I will report on the results as soon as I have a chance to try it out. Banana pudding looms in my future, and probably on my butt as well.
A claim to fame...
Today I managed to trot over a kilometer, with the Toots acting like a totally civilized dog. Now he pays attention to verbal corrections, and it looks like we are on our way.
After Beto staggered away from the table after lunch (sweet potato stuffed ravioli with brown butter and hazelnut sauce, smoked porkchop with fresh, roasted pineapple, and fig and arugula salad with prosciutto and shaved parmigiano cheese), it brought to mind that Monterrey has the dubious claim to fame of having had, at one point, the world's two fattest men living here.
They were HUGE. Their legs were so fat that the couldn't keep them together, and they stuck out at right angles to their bodies. In fact, you would be hard pressed even to identify the limbs as legs, since they had no real recognizable shape. "Grotesque" doesn't cover it.
One of these men literally ate himself to death, and the other pleaded for help and got it. Hordes of people descended upon his humble abode, put him on a diet, helped him exercise even while bed-ridden. (Neither of these men had gotten out of bed in years since neither could move under his own steam.) This man probably no longer holds the record as the world's fattest man, because he has lost a couple of hundred pounds and seems to be forging ahead with his diet and exercise program. I think he still hasn't gotten out of bed on his own, although he has been hauled out by pulley and taken for medical evaluations.
Let's face it, these men are the victims of attempted--or successful--murder. If you are bedridden, you can't chow down unless someone brings you the masses of calories and crap that are keeping you too fat to move. One of the mothers was interviewed for the Discovery Channel (and surely there are others things more inspiring to discover than this), and she was a humble, passive woman who seemed simple-minded, no doubt trained from birth to cater to everyone's needs except her own. She was no sylph herself, mind you, but it is probable that no one every taught her anything about nutrition. She entered into the diet regime with gusto, though, so her heart is in the right place. According to her, her son threw such temper tantrums when he didn't get enough food that she would wind up giving in. They live in a tiny house with only three or four rooms, so maybe she was afraid the neighbors would intervene if he kept up the ranting. Poor woman!
Every now and then, our local paper comes out with some article about this man, and believe you me, I've seen enough of him. I'm not amused by his massive self, unable to wear clothes in the summer because nothing fits him, wrapped barely in a sheet. But morbidity seems to be the byword in television viewing too, so if you want to look up this individual, just google "world's fattest man", and you may find him even though he has probably lost his title by now. But you never know.
After Beto staggered away from the table after lunch (sweet potato stuffed ravioli with brown butter and hazelnut sauce, smoked porkchop with fresh, roasted pineapple, and fig and arugula salad with prosciutto and shaved parmigiano cheese), it brought to mind that Monterrey has the dubious claim to fame of having had, at one point, the world's two fattest men living here.
They were HUGE. Their legs were so fat that the couldn't keep them together, and they stuck out at right angles to their bodies. In fact, you would be hard pressed even to identify the limbs as legs, since they had no real recognizable shape. "Grotesque" doesn't cover it.
One of these men literally ate himself to death, and the other pleaded for help and got it. Hordes of people descended upon his humble abode, put him on a diet, helped him exercise even while bed-ridden. (Neither of these men had gotten out of bed in years since neither could move under his own steam.) This man probably no longer holds the record as the world's fattest man, because he has lost a couple of hundred pounds and seems to be forging ahead with his diet and exercise program. I think he still hasn't gotten out of bed on his own, although he has been hauled out by pulley and taken for medical evaluations.
Let's face it, these men are the victims of attempted--or successful--murder. If you are bedridden, you can't chow down unless someone brings you the masses of calories and crap that are keeping you too fat to move. One of the mothers was interviewed for the Discovery Channel (and surely there are others things more inspiring to discover than this), and she was a humble, passive woman who seemed simple-minded, no doubt trained from birth to cater to everyone's needs except her own. She was no sylph herself, mind you, but it is probable that no one every taught her anything about nutrition. She entered into the diet regime with gusto, though, so her heart is in the right place. According to her, her son threw such temper tantrums when he didn't get enough food that she would wind up giving in. They live in a tiny house with only three or four rooms, so maybe she was afraid the neighbors would intervene if he kept up the ranting. Poor woman!
Every now and then, our local paper comes out with some article about this man, and believe you me, I've seen enough of him. I'm not amused by his massive self, unable to wear clothes in the summer because nothing fits him, wrapped barely in a sheet. But morbidity seems to be the byword in television viewing too, so if you want to look up this individual, just google "world's fattest man", and you may find him even though he has probably lost his title by now. But you never know.
miércoles, 4 de abril de 2012
Mexican fire-roasted sauces
If you are into real Mexican cuisine, you might like to make a fantastic fire-roasted sauce that only gets better once it sits in the fridge.
You'll need a cast-iron griddle or comal (a round iron griddle). The best are by Lodge, and you can often find them at Academy; if not, you can order one directly from Lodge. They are the best way to heat up corn tortillas also.
Ingredients:
One onion, quartered
Three or four Italian tomatoes
Two or three garlic cloves, unpeeled
A chile ancho, mulato, guajillo, pasilla, or cascabel (I really like cascabel chiles); these are dried chiles but they should still be flexible so you can use the rest for stuffing if you want to. Recipe for that later.
Ground chipotle powder
Cover the griddle with aluminum foil and heat. Place onion and tomatoes on the griddle and allow to roast, turning with kitchen tongs. Have your blender handy, and as the onion and tomato begin to char, put them into the blender. Put garlic on griddle and remove as the peel becomes toasted. You can do this at the same time you do the onion and tomatoes if you are careful not to let the garlic burn. Without taking off the peel, use a garlic mincer to mince the garlic right into the blender.
Put a small pan of water on the stove, add some salt, and heat to just boiling. Meanwhile, remove the seeds and the stem from your chile of choice (I only use one) and place on griddle. Turn chile, pressing it down lightly, but only until fragrant. If it burns it becomes bitter. Pop it into the hot water, turn off the heat under the pan and allow chile to rehydrate.
Place chile into blender with other ingredients and a little of the water in which the chile soaked. Add salt and pepper. Blend until smooth.
Heat a skillet and add some neutral-tasting oil. When hot, "fry" sauce, stirring, until the raw taste has worn off. Check the salt, and add just a touch of chipotle powder to add a smoky taste.
Store sauce in fridge. Use for flautas, enchiladas, with a fried egg, in beans, you name it.
The aluminum foil allows you to use the griddle without having a clean-up afterward. Enjoy!
You'll need a cast-iron griddle or comal (a round iron griddle). The best are by Lodge, and you can often find them at Academy; if not, you can order one directly from Lodge. They are the best way to heat up corn tortillas also.
Ingredients:
One onion, quartered
Three or four Italian tomatoes
Two or three garlic cloves, unpeeled
A chile ancho, mulato, guajillo, pasilla, or cascabel (I really like cascabel chiles); these are dried chiles but they should still be flexible so you can use the rest for stuffing if you want to. Recipe for that later.
Ground chipotle powder
Cover the griddle with aluminum foil and heat. Place onion and tomatoes on the griddle and allow to roast, turning with kitchen tongs. Have your blender handy, and as the onion and tomato begin to char, put them into the blender. Put garlic on griddle and remove as the peel becomes toasted. You can do this at the same time you do the onion and tomatoes if you are careful not to let the garlic burn. Without taking off the peel, use a garlic mincer to mince the garlic right into the blender.
Put a small pan of water on the stove, add some salt, and heat to just boiling. Meanwhile, remove the seeds and the stem from your chile of choice (I only use one) and place on griddle. Turn chile, pressing it down lightly, but only until fragrant. If it burns it becomes bitter. Pop it into the hot water, turn off the heat under the pan and allow chile to rehydrate.
Place chile into blender with other ingredients and a little of the water in which the chile soaked. Add salt and pepper. Blend until smooth.
Heat a skillet and add some neutral-tasting oil. When hot, "fry" sauce, stirring, until the raw taste has worn off. Check the salt, and add just a touch of chipotle powder to add a smoky taste.
Store sauce in fridge. Use for flautas, enchiladas, with a fried egg, in beans, you name it.
The aluminum foil allows you to use the griddle without having a clean-up afterward. Enjoy!
The Yard Rat
Two days ago, as I watered my newly-planted flowers in the back yard, suddenly a large rat scuttled across the lawn and made its escape. I was horrified, because each morning Toots dashes into the backyard sniffing the ground from one end to the other, obviously enthusiastic about something unusual that has been here in the night. Okay, I can take opossums and raccoons, but I draw the line at rats. It was off to the store to find some kind of trap. Rats can give dogs toxoplasmosis and gosh knows what else.
There was poison, but I didn't want to kill some harmless visitor to our lawn, such as our squirrel. There were the snapping-type traps, but only mouse size, and besides, it seems like a ghastly way to die. I have a wire cage trap I've used to get rid of opossums and stray cats, but where would I let the danged rat out? ]And what else might I catch instead of the rat? Could I let the rat loose far enough away to keep it from returning? Heaven forbid it should be reproducing somewhere in the yard, because not only might it come back, but then what to do with the offspring?
Finally I bought a sticky trap. It consisted of a couple of strips of thick plastic (two traps, or a double dose of stickiness if you needed it) covered in something unbelievably adhesive; I accidentally got a finger into the stuff and thought I'd never get free again.
But somehow this didn't seem like a particularly stress-free solution; the instructions showed a rat, dead, stuck in the stuff and being tossed into the trash in a very sanitary fashion. Well, something wasn't right, because why was it dead? And who in his right mind would pitch the cadaver into his trash can and hope for the best, smell-wise?
It took me two days to work up the nerve to set the traps out, baited with some almonds and a toasted tortilla. The instructions were clear that no cheese or bacon could be used since greasy substances were banned. Might they allow the rat to slip away, lubricated by cheese or bacon? Who knows?
During the night, I had nightmares that the trap was loaded with radioactive material such as uranium and strontium 90. That would sure explain the dead rat in the instruction drawing!
First thing this morning before allowing Toots outside, I checked the trap, which I had placed on a patio close to the laundry room. The entire trap was gone. I couldn't find it anywhere. I pictured a 'possum making off with the trap stuck to its paws, strong enough to function in spite of this minor bother.
Finally I found the sticky thing, overturned and crammed into a drain grill next to our patio that keeps water from accumulating along a wall. The danged beast, whatever it was, was not only strong but vindictive. If it had rained we would have had water flooding the whole patio, thanks to the natural dam created by the trap.
I've declared a truce on the vermin front. As long as whatever they are stay outside, so be it. After last night, though, I don't think we will be visited again for a while. That could not have been a pleasant time, finding yourself stuck to a big black plastic tray and having to drag it around the yard while trying to free your paws. I wish I could have seen it.
There was poison, but I didn't want to kill some harmless visitor to our lawn, such as our squirrel. There were the snapping-type traps, but only mouse size, and besides, it seems like a ghastly way to die. I have a wire cage trap I've used to get rid of opossums and stray cats, but where would I let the danged rat out? ]And what else might I catch instead of the rat? Could I let the rat loose far enough away to keep it from returning? Heaven forbid it should be reproducing somewhere in the yard, because not only might it come back, but then what to do with the offspring?
Finally I bought a sticky trap. It consisted of a couple of strips of thick plastic (two traps, or a double dose of stickiness if you needed it) covered in something unbelievably adhesive; I accidentally got a finger into the stuff and thought I'd never get free again.
But somehow this didn't seem like a particularly stress-free solution; the instructions showed a rat, dead, stuck in the stuff and being tossed into the trash in a very sanitary fashion. Well, something wasn't right, because why was it dead? And who in his right mind would pitch the cadaver into his trash can and hope for the best, smell-wise?
It took me two days to work up the nerve to set the traps out, baited with some almonds and a toasted tortilla. The instructions were clear that no cheese or bacon could be used since greasy substances were banned. Might they allow the rat to slip away, lubricated by cheese or bacon? Who knows?
During the night, I had nightmares that the trap was loaded with radioactive material such as uranium and strontium 90. That would sure explain the dead rat in the instruction drawing!
First thing this morning before allowing Toots outside, I checked the trap, which I had placed on a patio close to the laundry room. The entire trap was gone. I couldn't find it anywhere. I pictured a 'possum making off with the trap stuck to its paws, strong enough to function in spite of this minor bother.
Finally I found the sticky thing, overturned and crammed into a drain grill next to our patio that keeps water from accumulating along a wall. The danged beast, whatever it was, was not only strong but vindictive. If it had rained we would have had water flooding the whole patio, thanks to the natural dam created by the trap.
I've declared a truce on the vermin front. As long as whatever they are stay outside, so be it. After last night, though, I don't think we will be visited again for a while. That could not have been a pleasant time, finding yourself stuck to a big black plastic tray and having to drag it around the yard while trying to free your paws. I wish I could have seen it.
Sandles, sandels and sandals...
This is what happens when you are too lazy to look up a word that has whisked out of your brain. It's not as if the dictionary were in another room, either. It is on a stand right by the computer, but that means I have to get up and turn pages, God help us. And try learning another language. It will make your English go to the devil. I have a wonderful computer program for learning Italian, and it has made me grind to a halt, communication-wise. My brain goes into some kind of gear-stripping buzz that can't come up with the right word in any language at all until, perhaps, several hours later.
Today the Toots and I only went two kilometers because I was tired, sore, and hungry, but he behaved wonderfully. I may be able to trot with him before long. It has dawned on him that there will be no leash, thus no walk, if he goes bananas at the very thought of going out. So now the uproar of getting him into the underleg doo-dad has calmed to a mere routine. Today we went by another wonderful Sheltie, the soul of civilization, and a black Lab totally out of control that was dragging its owner down the path. The Toots did not try to dash to one side, he didn't yank on his leash, he didn't whine. Is victory within sight??
Today the Toots and I only went two kilometers because I was tired, sore, and hungry, but he behaved wonderfully. I may be able to trot with him before long. It has dawned on him that there will be no leash, thus no walk, if he goes bananas at the very thought of going out. So now the uproar of getting him into the underleg doo-dad has calmed to a mere routine. Today we went by another wonderful Sheltie, the soul of civilization, and a black Lab totally out of control that was dragging its owner down the path. The Toots did not try to dash to one side, he didn't yank on his leash, he didn't whine. Is victory within sight??
lunes, 2 de abril de 2012
Last tango in Monterrey
You've probably heard that ancient joke about the Aggie who heard that most accidents take place within 25 miles of home, so he moved. It always reminds me that of all the times I've fallen off horses, the only time I really hurt myself falling was when I tripped on a tennis court.
It was bad enough that I have been sore from crashing on the running path. Yesterday, while some of our kids and grandkids were getting their gear out the front door, my husband, who was humming a tango, grabbed me and started to dance. At this point, I need to discuss Mexican arts and crafts.
While in Querétaro last year, I bought some delightful woolen mice, stuffed with sand, that are meant to keep your door from slamming when a breeze whips through the house. I bought two, one for the front door and one for a door that goes to the breakfast room. The grandkids love them, of course.
Well, in a move that only a very young man should try, Beto went swirling around, and I was just holding on and trying not to get stomped on, since I had on sandles and it would have killed my foot. I backed into the doormouse and, of course, began to fall down. It was Keystone cops there for a while, except that Beto seemed to hit every object in the room before finally striking the floor a mighty blow with his right gluteous maximus. Unfortunately, his gluteous isn't very maximus and there isn't much cushioning. In a matter of a fraction of a second, he looked like he'd been mugged.
I'm glad to say he is fine, nothing broken, but plenty is sore. I, on the other hand, am now evenly sore on both sides of my body--from my flying leap on the running path and from my flying leap during the tango. I keep telling people that fibromyalgia wreaks havoc with your sense of balance, but no one believes me. But they will now--"they" being Beto, of course. I took ballroom dancing a million years ago and loved it, but we didn't learn this tango move. I think it was one of those spontaneous things Beto does from time to time, but from now on, it aint gonna be with me!
It was bad enough that I have been sore from crashing on the running path. Yesterday, while some of our kids and grandkids were getting their gear out the front door, my husband, who was humming a tango, grabbed me and started to dance. At this point, I need to discuss Mexican arts and crafts.
While in Querétaro last year, I bought some delightful woolen mice, stuffed with sand, that are meant to keep your door from slamming when a breeze whips through the house. I bought two, one for the front door and one for a door that goes to the breakfast room. The grandkids love them, of course.
Well, in a move that only a very young man should try, Beto went swirling around, and I was just holding on and trying not to get stomped on, since I had on sandles and it would have killed my foot. I backed into the doormouse and, of course, began to fall down. It was Keystone cops there for a while, except that Beto seemed to hit every object in the room before finally striking the floor a mighty blow with his right gluteous maximus. Unfortunately, his gluteous isn't very maximus and there isn't much cushioning. In a matter of a fraction of a second, he looked like he'd been mugged.
I'm glad to say he is fine, nothing broken, but plenty is sore. I, on the other hand, am now evenly sore on both sides of my body--from my flying leap on the running path and from my flying leap during the tango. I keep telling people that fibromyalgia wreaks havoc with your sense of balance, but no one believes me. But they will now--"they" being Beto, of course. I took ballroom dancing a million years ago and loved it, but we didn't learn this tango move. I think it was one of those spontaneous things Beto does from time to time, but from now on, it aint gonna be with me!
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