Menage à Trois Bingo

My parents came to visit for Thanksgiving. As usual, it was a pleasant visit while also very stressful and fraught. They're evangelical Christians, and I'm ... not. The exact relationship between Chris and Tammie and me remains unspoken out loud, although we're less and less careful about references to "our bedroom".

But we do find common ground and topics of agreement despite that. In fact, politically, they've gotten more liberal with age rather than the opposite. I am unendingly grateful that Fox Geezer Syndrome has not infected them. Instead, my mom and dad work in an immigration advocacy office, which means that they help people with their visa or green card or citizenship applications, and sometimes have to tell them that they're sorry, but current law means they have no recourse to change their status with the US government.

Dad's been vocally anti-Trump since the primary season, and told me last August that "they've turned me into a Democrat!" (I said, "I hope it sticks!") Both he and mom were lifelong Republicans, but in conversation at dinner Friday night he told me he's glad I'm out there protesting, because he can't. Partly due to his age and physical disabilities, and partially because the immigration work he does is sponsored by a church which would not allow direct political action. I did refrain from mentioning that one of the protests I attended had been in support of Planned Parenthood. I think reproductive rights are likely to be a bridge too far for them.

After dinner Friday we took them to a Miss Jubilee concert. She does covers of 1920's and 1930's music -- which turns out to be soaked in double entendre, making for a slight case of consternation on my part. But these are the same parents who took high school Fiona to see "Blaze Starr", about Huey Long's affair with a prostitute, and who took 2003 me to the Erotic Art museum in Lima (pre-columbian dildos and ceramic renditions of people having sex as well as people with nasty STI's). I can't quite figure that part out.

During intermission of the show, I was telling mom and dad that I appreciate Charis because all three of the directors we've had so far have been very encouraging and welcoming no matter one's talent level, never ever saying things like "stand in the back and mumble/mouth the words" like [name redacted] the youth choir director at Elmbrook Church told me when I was in said choir. He said he felt I had been treated badly by her, and then went on to say that he felt I had been badly treated by the church in numerous ways. "The thing about Christians," dad said, "is that they're human. People are sometimes badly hurt by churches and are turned off for ever. For example, your mom's sister Karen." And obvious subtext, utterly unvoiced by either of us, "and also you."

He went on to apologize to me on behalf of the church which they still attend, and which employs them both in their immigration ministry. "As I said the other day, we'd be looking for a different church if..." (He hates the music. No more hymnals, no more choir, usually highly amplified and very repetitive. I hate it too, the few times I've attended with them recently.)

Other things from the weekend. I baked two pies, both from new-to-me recipes spotted on facebook, and both were amazing and received my mom's highest cooking compliment: "Can I have the recipe?"

https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1017817-cranberry-curd-tart

https://shakespeareandbeyond.folger.edu/2017/11/14/pumpkin-pie-recipe-17th-century-england/

Mom and Dad had told me they would take us all out to Thanksgiving dinner, so we went to Maggiano's, which was lovely. I chose them because among all the available options, they had the most foods that Chris could eat. He doesn't do poultry or large quantities of meat, but Maggiano's had pastas as well so he could eat those.

Today, she taught me a recipe that her daddy makes (which is sort of funny, as I'm the one who first taught him to cook. This is not my way of making eggs, though, so I don't know where he got it. Not from his mother: Rosa says she can't do it right.)

Egg sandwiches à la Ray, as told by Rosa
You whisk up the eggs and milk in a bowl. Lots of milk. The milk makes them fluffy. (She stirred the eggs with a fork and showed me: "This is the color they should be. Not quite white." Lumps of egg white remained but all the yolks were blended in.) Pour them into a pan and push them around, toward the middle, and around the sides. Turn them off and let them finish on their own.

So we made this thing, her instructing me through the steps, and me asking questions.

Me: Do you want grease in the pan?
Her: Not oil, but grease, yes.
Me: What kind? Bacon grease, butter, oil, what?
Her: No, no grease. Just put them in.

So she poured them in. And they did not stick.

Her: Now stir them with the spatula.
Me: *stir*

After they were mostly cooked but still sort of liquidy-edged, she told me to turn off the pan.

Me: But they're not done yet.
Her: They'll cook on their own now.

Sure enough.

I used toast, but she wanted bread. "It's really good with mayonnaise on the bread." So we put mayo on our bread.

Me: Should we put ham or cheese with it?
Her: Cheese.
Me: What kind? Colby jack, swiss or american? (The current contents of the cheese drawer.)
Her: American.

And that's it. No salt, no pepper, no herbs, just eggs and cheese on bread. With mayo, of course. Surprisingly good, too.

In emulation of beckyzoole's ReubenQuest, I bring you PieQuest.

I have mentioned here before that I am a big fan of pie. All of us here at Rivendell are, to tell the truth. But after the lamentable demise of Tippin's and the continued absence of Poppin' Fresh aka Baker's Square, a good pie is hard to find. (A hard pie is NOT good to find, in case you were wondering.)

We've tried a few places; diners and family restaurants seem to have pie available more often than more formal (or more expensive) locations. Tonight, lavendargrrl and I went to Uncle Bill's in the hopes that they might serve pie. And indeed, they do. "Pie of the day" it says on the menu.

Today, at least, that translated into two varieties: apple and cherry. We each ordered cherry. They looked storebought, but were served hot, mine with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. The cherries were nice and tart, but there was more glaze than cherries. I continue to struggle to describe the crust. "Bready" is the best I could do. It wasn't doughy, it was cooked quite done, but did not have that characteristic flaky goodness that true pie pastry must have.

I can't even imagine how to achieve the consistency their crust had. Perhaps by melting the butter/shortening into the flour or creaming it as for cookies, rather than cutting it in and leaving small shortening pellets in the flour mixture.

Rating: Adequate.

I think we'll keep trying, but honestly, it would really serve us all better if I'd just bake more pies myself. More varieties available. Better crust. Fresher. I was reminiscing to Tammie about the lovely peach-blueberry-bing cherry pie my mother used to make, and the Hawaiian Strawberry, and and and...And I can do just as well at pie making as she does, but I--as we have previously established--am a lazy ass.

beckyzoole asked, and I had meant to post anyway, where did we get the Vampire Squash?

Last weekend, Tammie and I went down to Roger & Hunter's for a couple nights to attend TammyG's baby shower. On the Sunday, we all went to a Garden Festival at Bakersville Pioneer Village run by and located at Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds. There were vendors selling everything: yummilicious handmade bread and cinnamon rolls, garden plants, herbs, quilts and more. And heirloom squash. We bought three different kinds: Vif d'Etampes ("vampire"), Casper, and Jarrahdale. I shot some pictures of them before and during the cutting-up.

I also bought two strawberry plants and two raspberry canes. The strawberries got repotted last night; they're going to live indoors. The vendor swears they'll produce all year indoors--and if they don't, well it was only a coupla bucks. The raspberries will go outside to join the blackberries that were so prolific this summer.

Yesterday was ohari's 40th birthday (Happy birthday, darling) and we threw him a Ballistics party. lavendargrrl found a couple of books at ThinkGeek: The Art of the Catapult and Backyard Ballistics. We went to Lowe's last week and bought materials for two "Viking Catapults" and "God's Stone Thrower" models, the birthday boy built them (with assistance from me, Tammie, and scottak) and we took them to the park yesterday to fling water balloons (the which may be seen in ona_tangent's lovely photo that has become my new default icon) at each other and the rest of our guests. It was a wonderful day to be outside in the park; the weather was warm but not hot and the humidity was not bad either. All the assorted kidlets had a grand time with the water, and the adults did too.

Our Chris is fond of bananananananas. His usual request for birthday cake is Banana Cream Pie, but due to the outdoor party, I felt a cream pie would not do well. So I made him Banana Cake instead: two standard yellow cake mixes; go light on the oil (it called for 2/3 cup for the two: we only had 1/4 cup anyway) and add five pureed bananas. Took about fifteen minutes longer to bake than the prescribed time.

It made two smallish sheet cakes (13x9 and 12x8) and I frosted them each differently: one got Chocolate-Peanut Butter frosting (substitute peanut butter for the butter in a basic chocolate buttercream icing) and the other got Chocolate-Banana frosting (more pureed bananas, natch).

I have found that bananas substitute more-or-less one-for-one with butter. One pureed banana = one stick of butter. Works in cookies, cakes, frosting... Of course, you have to want the final product to taste like bananas, and some change in texture may be expected. :-)

Scones

4 tsp baking powder
1-3/4 cups all-purpose flour
5 Tbsp butter
5 Tbsp sugar

Combine above to oatmeal consistency. Add 2/3 cup milk to fruit (currants or raisins or cinnamon and apple; 1/2 cup if raisins are soaked). Roll out to 3/4" thick. Cut to size desired.

400 degree oven for 12-14 minutes

I have an appontment this morning at 10:30 for the house inspection that I've had to reschedule twice (due to forgetting about the previous appointments and just jaunting off to work as usual), so I'm at home. I went to the Subaru dealer first thing and got my car's oil changed for the first time: at 5500 miles. I've had the car about 3 1/2 months and it's already got nearly 6000 miles on it. I haven't even gone anywhere except back and forth to work, but my commute is a 50 mile round trip every day.

So I'm at home again, and I decided to cook myself breakfast, now that I've been up for two hours and some. I made scrambled eggs with onions, black pepper, and feta cheese, and fried them in olive oil. It's an interesting combination of flavors. I think I like it but I'm not quite sure.

There was a postcard from Kirk in my mail today, which gave a lift to my evening, and then I checked my voice messages and found one from my aunt. She and my uncle are in town tonight through Saturday morning, so we're going to get together tomorrow night. They retired, sold their printing business, and bought a motor home. They've been touring 'round the country since December first. I knew they'd pass through here eventually, but hadn't quite expected them so soon, nor with so little notice. Still, I wasn't doing anything anyway except watching Rosa, and they'll want to see her, so it all works out nicely.

The only bummer is my failed attempt to make dulce de leche. The condensed milk in my pantry had apparently been there for a very long time and had gone all thick and nasty. Mental note: add condensed milk to the grocery list.

Someone was looking in my windows at me while I was cooking dinner tonight (jambalaya, yum yum yum--made from scratch, thank you very much (I'm a good cook ;-p )). (This is an example a little more like what I tend to do with parenthetical thoughts, if I don't edit them out.) When I noticed and looked out at him, he ducked betwen the kitchen window and the one in the dining room. I couldn't quite see him anymore but I knew he was still there. So I went out the back door: he took off running and I shouted "Shove off!" at his departing back. (Exact quote. I didn't want to swear at a stranger who might be carrying a weapon or for that matter get ideas from the word "fuck".)

I told Rosa afterwards that if he came back I'd show him a knife--thinking of my dagger--but I don't think I would do that. If he was armed it would probably be with a gun, and if not, and he reported me to the police, I'd be the one who ended up arrested, for brandishing a weapon, nevermind the fact that he had been peeking in my windows.

Someone has been doing that around here quite a lot, actually. I saw him myself one night last summer, and my neighbor came over to warn me a few weeks ago. I'm glad I'm moving back to my house. Nobody peeks in windows there.

Rosa and I just made a big batch of cookies. These are my speciality "Kitchen Sink Cookies"--which come out different every time depending on what I have on hand--and they have all sorts of interesting ingredients. Mashed bananas. Chocolate chips. M&M's. Oatmeal. Golden raisins. Dried cherries. Dried cranberries. Black walnuts. A bit of maple flavoring. Cocoa. Crushed candy canes (this last was Rosa's idea).
Over all they turned out pretty well, though I don't think I'll use black walnuts again. They're a bit too strong-tasting.
Making cookies with a two-year-old is quite an adventure. I was sort of expecting to have a horrible mess afterwards, and that did not happen. She helped put in the mix-ins, and stir the batter, and drop the cookies on the cookie sheet...and eat the finished product.
Now she's asleep on the couch and I'm resting.