Sam was rooting around in his mother’s kitchen and found a box of yeast that expired in 1991. He asked me if I thought it was still good. This is the oldest food artifact ever discovered in that kitchen. This is the record to beat.
December 8, 2013
December 3, 2013
November 28, 2013
I was excited to see the little festive tree in my building’s lobby, I’ve been waiting for it. I think there are fewer Santas than last year. Did someone steal Santas? None of the supermarkets around here even put one up this year so this is the only Christmas tree I have. Last spring cleaning I found some Christmas lights I thought I’d thrown out. Yesterday I looked for them but they’ve disappeared. I’m disappointed. I guess I threw them away then and forgot and only remembered that I’d forgotten I had them before. Or something. Have yourself a senile little Christmas.
November 25, 2013
November 22, 2013
November 17, 2013
November 13, 2013
The trees refuse to change the color of their leaves to match the season. They just won’t do it. What’s their problem?
October 21, 2013
Sam went to his mother’s house alone last weekend because I semi-faked illness to stay home and steep myself in a luxurious bath of laziness. I had to trust him to go to the farmer’s market by himself and this is what he brought me. He always adopts the handicapped vegetables. He showed me two photos on his cell phone of ziplock bags I’d left in his mother’s freezer months ago. She wants to know what’s in them. Of course I can’t remember, they’re UFOs: unidentified frozen objects. Sam is starting to mumble just like his mother. This morning he said, “Turn the power switch on” and I thought he said “mastodon.” Guess I still have old frozen things on my brains.
October 19, 2013
I’m happy to pull the comforters and quilt out of the closet, wear sweaters (even if they’re still only cotton), and feel cold on my skin again. I am craving gratins and stews. Winter beers replace autumn brews, the year grows old.
September 19, 2013
Occasionally I indulge in a katsu sand if I notice it marked down because this sandwich is perfect. The pork cutlet’s intriguingly soft and mild, the lightly oily fried crust and dash of tonkatsu sauce richly savory. The slightly sweet bread should be lightly coated with butter with a hint of hot mustard. Thinly sliced cabbage adds texture and echoes the mineral taste of the pork. Imagine my chagrin at discovering that not only did this katsu sand lack the absolutely necessary tonkatsu sauce, but they had put mayonnaise on it. Mayonnaise! No no no no. This is wrong. The whole concept is ruined. A bitter disappointment.
M.F.K. Fisher, With Bold Knife and Fork:
“For one Railroad Sandwich … buy a loaf of the best procurable ‘French’ bread at least eighteen inches long to serve perhaps six people. Have on hand at least a half pound of sweet butter, not too cold to spread, and an equally generous pound or so of the highest quality of sliced boiled ham. A pot of mustard of the Dijon type is indicated to add an optional fillip. Slice the loaf from end to end in two solid pieces, and then carefully remove all you can of the inner crumbs. Spread the two hollow shells generously with butter, and with judicious smears of mustard if desired. Lay upon the lower half of the loaf plenty of ham slices, overlapping thickly. Tuck them in a little at the edges, but not too neatly; a fringe is picturesque to some people … . Put the two halves firmly together, and wrap them loosely in plastic or foil or wax paper, and then a clean towel. Then, and this is the Secret Ingredient, call upon a serene onlooker … to sit gently but firmly upon the loaf for at least twenty minutes. One of the best of our sitters over some twenty years of assistance was Bonnie Prince Charlie Newton, built like a blade of grass during these useful and fargone years, but with a curiously potent electricity between his little beam and the loaf, almost like infared cookery. He could make the noble sandwich flat without squirming on it, and melt the butter and marry it to the mustard and the crisp shattered crusts, better than anybody. Even without this charmer, though, a Railroad can be a fine thing, cut upon rescue into thick oblique slices and given the esoteric ingredients: first a long loaf of French bread, then … then …”