Yesterday wasn’t a complete wash for everyone. Tippi got new bell balls out of my ordeal.
To Me Nothing Bad Ever Happens
Author Archives: Tata
Dreams May Toss And Turn You Now
Siobhan and I had an eye-opening bad day with animal rescue people who – we believed – were lying to us. This is different from the rescue agencies I’ve dealt with and bizarre. For Siobhan, it was heartbreaking, which made me see red.
Meet Tippi, formerly Darla, our current adorable kitten. Her birthday is in December. We hope we will survive to see it.
How do I get those gatekeeping do-gooders out of the way and get what I want?
Pushing Too Hard On Me
Me? I got nothing today. Topaz, perturbed, eschews even hard edges.
You’re Gonna Shock the Monkey
I learned a whole lot on Saturday afternoon. First: I boiled some of the larger potatoes we grew, slid them out of their skins and – following the directions of Marcella Hazan, Italian food queen – put them through the food mill. Then the learning began. Marcella said to mill them directly onto the work surface. It seemed awkward, but I threw some AP flour on the work surface and started milling. Three potato halves later, I was like, ‘Torturing myself is fun and all, but I need a way to stand this thing above this surface. If only I had a sturdy tube.’ I rested the food mill on top of the empty angel food form et voila! The food mill produced a whole lot more potato than I expected. Marcella’s recipe uses only potato and AP flour. The potato had nice flavor, so I went with it. I kneaded the flour and potato and it became a dough. I cut it into quarters and rolled it into long tubes. I tried out cutting 3/4 inch bits but they seemed large. Smaller turned out to be better. I have a gnocchi form and at first using it was strange, but very quickly I learned a smooth motion. That by itself was very encouraging. I put the formed gnocchi on a 1/2 sheet pan lined with wax paper and dusted with AP flour. The filled tray went into the freezer, for a little extra insurance. Later, we dropped them into boiling salted water and they came back to the top immediately. I expected this to take a few minutes, but no. Steve was concerned about how soft they were so were plated them directly from the boiling water. He mixed the gnocchi with sauce very carefully. The texture was extremely light but too light. Steve remembered that his grandmother would rice the potatoes and let them dry for a few hours or overnight.
I made terrible gnocchi! From scratch!
To summarize:
1. Station the food mill over an empty angel food pan and a base of AP flour.
2. Mill potatoes and let ’em get some air.
3. Add salt.
4. Roll the dough smaller than you want to and cut the little chunks small.
5. You WILL get the forming motion, so quit whining.
6. Some time on a lined, floured cookie sheet in the freezer helps.
I had worried this would be hard to do, but it is not. It is completely easy. Can’t wait to try again.
At the Top Of the Greenest Tree
It’s August, so the house has fleas again. This is nothing compared to New Brunswick’s new infestation of coyotes.
Over the weekend, I suddenly learned how to cable knit, though, as the lower right hand side demonstrates, I did not suddenly learn to count.
Coyote sightings in New Brunswick over the past day have prompted a police warning to stay away from the animals.
“Multiple” coyotes have been seen in Buccleuch Park, according to New Brunswick police. Residents should report their location to police at (732) 745-5200. People also shouldn’t feed the animals.
The park is directly across the street from a hospital, so the inevitable ignorers carrying and comprising coyote chow will have a short stumble to the ER and thorough mocking.
I’m Always Counting Down
Movie stars!
Immortality achieved.
When I Do I’m A Fool
Topaz, who is not Swiss chard, is fooling no one, which I mean me.
And Try And Try And Try
The rest of the potatoes, freshly dug up and still in their happy soil. Note their rustic charm! In an interesting turn of events, when I turned over a spot I thought I’d turned over before, all the red potatoes turned up. Yahtzee!
And Never Made No Past
Adventures come in many forms. This one starts with a cable pattern.
Better Run Better Run Faster
Yesterday, I was saying hello to Topaz upstairs when I looked past her and saw a deer across the street. I ran down the stairs, shouting for Pete to grab a camera and run for the door. He did not ask why because I play for Team Crazy and he threw open the front door, camera in hand. A doe and two fawns came running toward us across a lawn. Almost invisibly, the doe and a fawn escaped the yard and bolted for the street. As Pete and I hit the sidewalk, he was snapping pictures as one of the fawns got caught behind the fence and panicked.
Whaddoo I do whaddoo I do whaddoo I do?
The fawn ran from us and toward us, over and over, and could not figure out how to get out. I was afraid it would try to leap the fence, but it didn’t. I hesitated. The doe stood on our side of the street, two yards down, with the other fawn. I thought, ‘I have to do something here before something very bad happens,’ but I had no idea what it would be.
Word to the wise, buddy: if your wife hurts my baby, we’re gonna rumble.
I stepped out of the driveway and clicked my tongue the same way I do to get my cats’ attention. The fawn was making a pretty similar noise as it ran back to the corner. I stopped walking a safe distance away in the middle of the street and clicked my tongue until the fawn locked eyes with me. It realized there was no fence between us. A second later, the fawn sprinted around the edge of the fence and toward its mother. Then Pete and I went to the farmers market for fresh vegetables and wild ideas.
Mama mama mama mama mama mama mama!
Odd footnote: while I was in the street, someone behind me was talking to her dog. I turned to look and recognized the dog as the one that lives directly behind us, so the only witness to my deer-whispering besides Pete was the neighbor we don’t speak to. That was amusing. I have no explanation for how she and the large dog walked past the doe and the fawn, as they must have. But how?
Poor Impulse Control 