Category Archives: compote something

Comic Book Characters Never Get Old

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As it happens, sometimes no actual belief in oneself is necessary for stuff to turn out spiffily. Yes, I made that up. Bite me.

Is it possible?

Pete makes bread in the bread machine all the time, but that involves slicing and I cannot resist an oblique angle. My slices always look like they came out of a homemade mitre box. So rolls seem like a better form for me than loaves. This is my second attempt and I expected to learn some new and exciting ways to sort of fail. It might look like I dropped the dough in coffee grounds, but no. That’s finely diced fresh herbs from the garden because fresh herbs in bread? I want to eat that.

Apparently, it’s possible!


I got lucky. In a couple of days, I’ll try again. If I can duplicate my results, my experiment will prove sound. Also: I can stop running around the dining room, shouting, “SCIENCE! neerrrr neerrr neerrr neerrr SCIENCE!” That is driving the cats quite mad.

And Filled With Mad Shadows

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Today’s rolls were rounder and taller than last week’s and the flavor is better.Downside: the dough was too wet as I was mixing and I grabbed whole wheat pastry flour out of the cabinet, giving the rolls a gritty texture. Plus: delicious; minus: gritty. I’m learning!

Very tough week at the Handmade House. We’ve had our fill of people surprised by the duplicity of obviously duplicitous people and neighbors sandbagged by lawyers doing what lawyers do. I, for one, welcome the start of gin & tonic season.

Is 67 More

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Pete: How about hamburgers for dinner?
Tata: That sounds great. You should make rolls.
Pete: You should make rolls.
Tata: What? I could swear you just said I should bake something.
Pete: Use my bread recipe.
Tata: I guess…I guess I could. I could do that, right? I could!

Pete put his recipe for whole wheat bread on the kitchen table and watched from a safe distance as I added flours, salt, herbs, dry milk, butter and water to the mixing bowl without injuring myself. I covered the dough with plastic wrap and we went out for a fantastic bike ride on a sunny day. Later, I punched it down, covered it and took a nap. Finally, I divided it into six more or less equal roundy-squarey globs. Then I turned over the compost heap and when I came back, the globs looked like rolls. Pete and I stared at them. We preheated the oven, sprinkled dried onions and wheat germ over top. Pete told me to get that water spritzer I use to tame my Mediterranean mane and spray water inside the oven before putting in the rolls to bake. So I did.

Believe it or not: edible!

We pulled one apart to taste it. I couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t even hard to do!

Girls Against the World

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Food Network has taken many wrong turns over the years but this time it’s driven the ice cream truck into a concrete abutment.
See this guy? His name is Willie Degel. I’m sure he’s a miserable person to work for and be near. Why? His visible-from-space boundary issues:

Willie Degel is known for running a tight ship at his restaurants. His secret: cameras canvassing every inch of his restaurant, allowing him to keep a close eye on his floor, staff and patrons. Restaurant Stakeout follows as Willie takes his practices to troubled restaurateurs looking to find and rectify the hidden problems that lie within their establishments.

My bold. Yes, that’s right. Cameras everywhere, rather than capable floor managers. How’s your carpaccio? Willie knows! Judging by the commercial alone – because I’d rather chew off my foot than watch an episode of this bullshit – Willie is a bully and a blowhard who doesn’t actually know how to run a restaurant but does know how to make people, especially women, really uncomfortable.

I can’t stand game shows and I’m not interested in buying ANYTHING Willie Degel’s selling. Hey, Food Network, any chance we can – I don’t know – talk about food? And why you now have an entire channel I don’t get devoted to talking about food?

A Rocket Launched To the Great Blue Yonder

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Yesterday I remembered it was winter, the time I’d said I wanted to jar stock for the summer, when I apparently drink it as a mixer. I can’t explain that. Anyway, the doorway to this better future was the pressure canner Pete bought me a year ago and which I had not developed the nerve to try. I washed out some jars, heated some lids and road tested the pressure canner. It was a test of courage. I removed cats from the kitchen. I hunkered down with both chicken and mushroom stocks, jars, lids, rings and a Sharpie for labeling. Liquids came to their various temperatures, moved to proper locations and eventually to one large pot with a rattling pressure regulator. Pete hovered nearby, advising on procedural matters and wielding tongs. Finally, a timer rang and we turned off the heat to let everything cool. We fled the kitchen to celebrate our success from a safe distance. Huzzah!

The canning instructions at Doris And Jilly Cook were straight forward and invaluable. While unnerving, the process wasn’t difficult. We’ll wait a week or two, then open a jar to test it. I feel braver already.

A Rose In A Fisted Glove

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Tamales are a bit of an undertaking, no trouble at all and completely worth the work.

I needed a weekend offline after I got into it on Facebook with an otherwise liberal dude about abortion. At this point, I’m beyond sick of otherwise liberal dudes, and wish they would drop all pretense of decency and wear their He Man Woman Haters Club stripes on the outside instead of on their Underoos. Anyway, I needed peace in my house, and banana leaves.

Now I’m out of banana leaves.