Yesterday was one of those days, you know the kind, where everything you do takes 5 hours longer than it should. I had set some lofty goals for myself around the house and in the kitchen, including hanging bathroom hardware, washing and folding the 50 loads of laundry that had mysteriously piled up over the weekend, spending 30 minutes on the treadmill, baking the Chocolate Cream Tart for Tuesdays with Dorie, carving and cooking a country ham, and making homemade pizza for dinner. In my mind this seemed quite achievable.
Not the most photogenic sandwich in the world, but soooo rich and cheesy.
The Barefoot Bloggers pick this week comes from Kathy of All Food Considered. This French sandwich recipe appears in Ina Garten’s Barefoot in Paris cookbook. It’s basically a seriously over-the-top grilled cheese. Dijon, ham, Gruyere, and a white sauce with more cheese makes ONE SERIOUS SANDWICH. Not necessarily something you would just throw together everyday, but after you make it once, you know it won’t be the last.
Okay, tell me you know what I’m talking about. That look when the cashier who’s checking your groceries picks up some unusual item you’re buying and reads the label – MEXICAN DRINKING CHOCOLATE – raises their eyebrows, and gives a little shrug. Sometimes they might even say, “What is this?”. “A citrus reamer”, you answer sheepishly. Yes, I’m thinking, I know it’s beyond your comprehension why someone might need two popover pans, but I do!
At the grocery store the other day I was in dire need of some windshield washer fluid, and the only kind they had said it was ‘scented’. I wasn’t really sure how much you would be able to smell something that’s sprayed on the outside of the car, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. Much to my amazement, I could actually smell the scent of the fluid after I used it the first time. It was sort of nice.
Fast forward to about a month later, with the family in the car on the way home from dinner. After hearing many large insects splatting on my windshield (you know it’s spring in the South), and having just had my car washed that day, I suggested to the husband that he spray some cleaner on it. This is the conversation that followed:
Last night my husband was watching a show on the Golf channel called The Haney Project where Charles Barkley was trying to learn to become a better golfer. Charles says at one point something like “I just know I’m going to be the one who goes through all this and still sucks.” I can relate. I started taking tennis lessons with some girlfriends recently, and I can just see myself being the one who still sucks after it’s all over. I always wanted to play tennis, but it never came naturally, and no one wants to play with you if you can’t hit the ball back. I even took tennis as a course in college, but it soon become apparent that everyone else already knew how to play, and were just doing it for the A. Well, that’s not what I got.
Today I received an email from my best friend/college roommate saying she joined Facebook and that I should “get my butt on there, girl!” Apparently, she has recently joined and reunited with all our sorority sisters, her high school graduating class, her first boyfriend in kindergarten – well, maybe not him (yet).
I have other friends who are on it, too, but I just can’t bring myself to put it all out there like that. I know, I know, you can choose who can see your page, and refuse to be “friends”, but this is a Southern girl you’re talking to and we don’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings, you know?
The biscuits are back. This time they are made with White Lily flour and half butter, half shortening. I’ve actually made these a few times, but was just too lazy/busy/forgetful to take a picture. We’ve been having country ham a lot with the biscuits, my personal favorite biscuit accompaniment. I’m thinking I must do some research on buying whole country hams, so we can have it more often, but I digress.
Ever since my daughter could express herself, she has been an animal lover. She used to stop people walking by our house with their dogs and ask if she could pet them. Her book choices at the library always include at least one animal book. Horses, whales, hedgehogs, naked mole rats – you name it, she wants it as a pet.
But she can’t stand monkeys. I don’t even know when her dislike for monkeys started, but the first time we went to the zoo she told me in no uncertain terms that she did not want to see the monkeys. “You know I hate monkeys, Mommy,” she said. I do?? Monkeys have been very popular on kid’s clothes lately, and she was completely freaked out by this. At her school one of the third grade teachers had decorated her room with all kinds of fun monkey stuff. It would have been very traumatic if she had turned out to be my daughter’s teacher.
Most of the time I try to cook and eat wholesome, homemade food. I try to avoid a lot of processed foods, additives and preservatives. But when it comes to stadium food, my will power goes out the door. I’m a sucker for hot dogs, peanuts, nachos, popcorn and pretzels. These things just don’t taste the same at home, good thing.
To wrap up Cookie Week here at Shortbread, I’d like to revisit a few of the cookies I’ve waxed poetic about in the past. If you’re new here, or if you’ve been visiting a while, I’d just like to re-introduce the melt-in your mouth Brown Sugar Pecan Shortbread Cookies, the over-the-top Peanut Butter Sandwich Cookies, and the blog-tastic World Peace Cookies. A little something for everyone.
It amazes me how a dog can be sleeping so soundly, snoring and chasing squirrels and catching birds, and as soon as a single chocolate chip drops to the floor, he’s awake and in the kitchen scooping it up. The way their supersonic ears can pick up the sound of a bag of chips being opened from the other side of the house just blows my mind.
Really, I can’t even walk into the kitchen without our dogs being in there under my feet waiting for something to hit the floor. And the fact that I can be a little clumsy works to their advantage. But sometimes I would like them to just STAY ASLEEP so I don’t have to worry about them while I’m trying to concentrate on a recipe.
You know you’re getting old(er) when trends start to reappear from your childhood. Like skinny jeans, legwarmers, and (gasp) shoulder pads. Some say you should only follow a trend once in your lifetime. Sometimes, however, a trend returns with such popularity that eventually you just have to embrace it. Like wide-leg jeans, leggings, and big sunglasses. I remember thinking I would be glad when the capri trend passed – that’s what my mother wore when she was young – and now they are a fixture in fashion.