EY's Rants and Raves

Apologies to Hall and Oates. I certainly don't feel as bad about AR's coach leaving as they felt in their song of 1983 from the Rock N Soul Part 1 album. In fact, if there were a nice sparkling wine in the fridge, I might have had it today and sang "Ding dong the witch is dead". Everything that was mentioned in the press conference as "hardships" the coach had to overcome were completely brought on BY THE COACH. I have less than no sympathy for Mr. HD Nutt. He did very little with the program, took the team to largely meaningless bowls, didn't win those.

Frank Broyles will be sad to see HDN leave. The circumstances tarnish a long legacy which should have been over years ago. I'm sure he planned on the hiring of Nutt to be the jewel in the crown of his story at UA. The mythic coach who led the team to it's only national championship hires the coach who leads them to another. Here's the thing. The world has changed since 1964. There are many MANY more powerhouse schools who back up their programs with work, good recruiting and don't rest on 40+ year old laurels. I fear Frank may be one of the few who is concerned. HDN leaves Arkansas with nearly $3 million in his pocket. I don't feel sorry for him. Heck, Big Faceless Corp could let me go for one third less and I'd be quiet as a mouse about it. Many Arkansas citizens (and non-citizens) will never make a million bucks total in their lifetimes. Why should we feel sorry for a coach who walks away from a job with a bucket of money?
"It's a tough job" coach said yesterday. Uh huh. Try teaching kids to read. Working on highway repair. Catching chickens to process. Planting a crop before the rain sets in. Getting a crop out before the rain sets in. Timber processing. Building buses in a factory. All tough jobs, Houston. None pay what you'll make for doing nothing but cleaning out your desk.

Good riddance.

And it will be great to be there next month. Cornflake (codename for my bro and sis-in-law's little one) has arrived and He's a HE!! I could not be happier. Mom and baby are fine. First name has been chosen, but some uncertainty on the middle one. The name that instantly came to mind for me was BIL and The Boy's grandfather's name. I think he would have appreciated it, plus there is some history of naming after family members. The Boy is named for both his greatgrand-dads, for example. Obviously, not my call to make and I'll be happy whatever Cornflake's real name turns out to be. I'm hoping that the nephew will finally end The Boy's sporadic kid rants. I have a feeling it will either stop them or they'll ramp up after we meet the nephew.

As if reveling in the joy along with me, the Bears pulled out a thrilling victory against Denver. I know Rex G has taken a lot of criticism this year, but with CHI being a league-leader in dropped passes, it's not all his fault. I saw some nice passes that split the defense dropped for no good reason today. Can't blame that all on the QB. If it hits you in the numbers, if it's close, if it's anywhere near you and you're getting paid millions of dollars to catch a ball.....CATCH IT.

The national holiday of Thanks is upon us again. It's the start of the "Holiday Season" although most retailers started right at Halloween. It typically is, for me, the start of the "when are you coming, why can't you stay, why don't you do what I want?" chorus from my Mother. We see my folks about once a month. Sometimes, we only see my in-laws on Thanksgiving and Christmas. None of that matters, however when the leaves turn brown.

But that wasn't what I wanted to post about. Today was a good start to the rest of the week. Worked at our church with a big group of teenagers putting together food baskets. I'm not usually much on teens, but these were really good kids. Very respectful to the lady who organized, very helpful, worked very hard, very nice to work with. Their "ringleader" was our organizer's son. A VERY tall drink of water who is just as cute as he can be and a genuinely nice boy. He and my 5' 8" goddaughter used to moon at each other (then IMMEDIATELY turn away) during service. Her mother and I had high hopes, but she found another. He's a nice kid who talks to adults in complete sentences and who has some good schools interested in him.

So I'm thankful for good teens who will hopefully grow into good adults.
I'm thankful for in-laws I get along with, even enjoy.
I'm thankful for a clean dog.
I'm thankful for having a job I learn a lot in, even if Big Faceless does have its flaws.
I'm thankful for a spouse who loves me even though my Pecan Pie has a crack.
I'm thankful for parents who love me enough to drive me insane.
I'm thankful for having a lot of friends.
I'm thankful for having pretty good health.

In general, I'm pretty thankful all around this year.

I'm not some kind of fashionista. If I make it outside the house with makeup on, washed hair, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, it's a good day. It's a normal day, in fact. With pay cuts and awful benefits, Big Faceless allows us to wear jeans unless there are clients in. Costs them nothing and it's generally well-liked. So since I can wear jeans, I find little reason to NOT do so.

Which makes it unusual (even to me) that I so adore Bravo's "Project Runway". I don't wear coture, I don't read magazines about it, I generally don't care that much about fashion. Yet, this show hooks me every season. Again, yesterday afternoon as I'm folding clothes, I'm yelling at the designers with a vehemence I usually reserve for NFL players on Sunday. In addition to me not being a slave to fashion, I couldn't do what the worst of the contestants do. I can barely sew on a button. There is no way I could grab random fabric, think up a design, sew it together and another person wear it. I'd have better luck stapling leaves to water.

You'd think that if I were to yell at anything on TV, it would be the Food Network. After all, I DO cook. Yet, if I see a FTV personality doing something contrary to my method, I'm far more likely to just say "meh, not the way I'd do it" IF I bothered to say anything at all. I don't even yell at that awful Rachael Ray. (Although I AM waiting on the day she cuts off a finger from her horrid knife skills and her lack of attention to what she's doing.)

But no, it's Project Runway that has my television heart at 9pm on Wednesdays and anytime there's a marathon on Bravo, which, fortunately for me, is often. Heck, the season opener, which I've already seen, is on now. I missed about 2 minutes at the end. I may have to go watch it again.

Arkansas, like many states in the South, has a schizophrenic relationship with alcohol. State and local governments are all too happy to tax it. The well-heeled want it and will get it no matter what, but would rather the "lower classes" not have it, hence the popularity of "country clubs". Those not rich enough for country clubs still have their options, but they're usually inconvenient.

A relatively new option is for restaurants to become "private clubs". A bane to many, a delight to others. Many folks who like to have the occasional glass of wine at dinner don't want liquor stores "in their backyard". A private club is the option for them. Others insist that a "dry" county should be that....totally dry.

Nowhere in my little dry county is the phrase "live and let live" more needed than on this issue. We who are adult enough to have a glass of wine with dinner chafe at the idea that we're automatically evil drunks for desiring this. Those on the other side are aghast that "their choice" (County was voted totally dry over 30 years ago when the population was 1/4 of current) is being taken away. They insist that we shouldn't have moved to a dry county if we wanted to be alcoholics.

When the college I attended was founded over 100 years ago, I doubt availability of booze was a factor. I chose that college based on the career I was going for and this college's experience in that area. After I had a dramatic change in plans, I stayed in town because that's where my job is. Didn't make much sense to move 20 miles away "just for booze". Booze is transportable. You can buy all that you need for a few days and store it. Heck, most booze is a preservation method of water, grain or grape.

Two new restaurants got their private club licenses and one new private club opened up this week. I'm sure comments to the local paper will revile the "demon rum" and all who are in favor if it (all us alcoholics, that is). If citizens of my county don't want to drink, I'm fine with their choice. I would never insist that they HAD to, I would never tell them they should just find another place to live. And I'd like that same tolerance. If I drink too much and get behind the wheel, yes, I should be put in jail, heavily fined and my license taken away. But I'm a careful drinker who always has a DD before I get in the car to go attend any event where alcohol will be involved. Based on what I've seen with most other people I know, I'm not unusual in this.

if you've visited this blog even once, you would be surprised that at this minute, I dread eating. Trust me, in person, I CERTAINLY don't look like I dread it. But I got a new mouthpiece to treat my TMJD and I'm supposed to wear it while eating. It's odd to put it mildly. I brought food that will be easy to eat: meatloaf from the Fresh Market (yummy stuff, I had some last night) and a black bean salad. The feeling of having food stuck between my teeth and my new device is so off-putting, however that I'd really rather just skip it.

Yes, I can, technically, take it out. But doing so and working my jaw can (according to the dentist) wipe out the progress the device has made in getting my jaw moved to the right spot. I really need this treatment to work. Getting my jaw aligned correctly and keeping it there will save me time, stress, grief, future cracked teeth and lots of cold hard cash.

I've had difficult relationships with food over the past 30+ years. When I was a teenager, I'd say I was downright bizarre in the things I would and wouldn't eat and my reasons for them. Being bizzare is part of being a teen and eventually, I grew out of some of them. Not all, but some. And today, I'm feeling rather close to some I thought I'd left behind.

The lovely and beautiful pomegranate. If I had been Persephone, there would be winter all year. No way I could have limited myself to three arils. What's an aril? Glad you asked. The easy answer is "the seed-looking things in a pomegranate". It would not, however, be the accurate answer. Technically, the pomegranate IS the seed and all the small jewel-like "inner seeds" are arils. Say it with me....are-el (short e). What do they taste like? Glad you asked. They're a little tangy and tart, a little sweet. There is an inner tough bit, rather like inside bits of a blackberry. Certainly not inedible, but noticeable. Hey, it's fiber. Don't you need a little more fiber in your diet? Of course. Nearly everyone needs to show a little more love to "nature's broom".

Here, we have a picture of a lovely and beautiful pomegranate that I'm about to dispatch.

Pomegranate juice stains. And it's about the color of the outside of the berry. So should you re-do your kitchen in red? Nope, you should be properly equipped. My favorite pomegranate setup is

I also use a cutting board, which is below. My primary tools, however are the pom, a knife--big or small, your choice, but you'll only be making 6 cuts, so I prefer a paring knife--and a bowl of water, about 2/3 full, I'd say.
After you wash your pom, slice off one end, like this

See, the arils are already looking out at you. As you slice off the ends, you may well slice through an aril, releasing the juice. This cutting board was red/burgundy when I got it. I can grind arils into it and it won't change color. Not so for my white or wooden boards; they stay safely in the cabinet when I'm handling poms.
Now the other end

Now you want to make 4 vertical cuts on the sides. You're not looking to quarter the pom,; you're barely cutting the outside; just to score the skin.

This will allow you to break open the pom and I cannot say this enough: this is why you have the bowl of water. The more you open the pom up, the more likely you are to rupture arils. Just hold the pom under water and break apart. The pieces may or may not come apart at the cuts you've made, but it will come apart. As you break it up, you'll squeeze some arils and they'll burst. Into the water. If you water is pink by the time you're done, no big deal. No crying over spilled pom juice if you're working in water.

A little blurry, but you'll have something like

Inside the pom, there are arils, thin white stuff and thick white stuff. Just pick/rub/brush the arils off these and into the water. As you work each piece, it will break further. This actually makes things easier.

Just let the arils fall into the water. Throw the membranes in the disposal, trash or compost. As you're working through each piece, you'll have arils and some membrane in the water. Just scoop out the membrane pieces when you think of it.
See, isn't that pretty?

this too

Looks like a fruit of jewels, doesn't it? Just looking at all these lovely arils makes me want to eat a big handful, how about you?
After you get all your pieces worked through, you can simply scoop the arils out

And put them in a container.

Now, you can eat them, put them in recipes, decorate a salad. My favorite way to enjoy them is just as they are. I could make a syrup or juice, I could freeze them, but I'm a simple girl and I like my fruit simple.

Labels: food porn

See, I told you I'd finish it. Last post, the daube was in the Crock Pot simmering away happily. (I do so love a happy daube.) After a whole day of it, it ended up looking something like this


Yes, it DOES look a lot more like soup. Not to worry, The Boy put together a roux. I didn't get a shot of him making roux because we were trying to clean while we cooked. He'd just made bread, so while he was making roux, I was cleaning up the counter. The roux helped thicken so they daube would go over these


This was after he made his lovely rosemary and garlic soda bread. He's really gotten into the quick breads lately, expanding from his wonderful cornbread. Unfortunately, he still hasn't come to understand the inconsistency that is our oven. (Don't buy GE products if you bake!)
The bread started out like


And ended up like


Nice, huh? That's NOTHING compared to the way it tastes...yumm-it-e-yum. Just the thing to go with a nice bowl of

The soft, fuzzy lighting isn't me being creative in Photoshop; I'm afraid it's old-fashioned "steam on the camera lens". I did also put some fresh thyme sprigs on the daube before we ate it, but by that time, I was hungry and since I had decent pictures, skipped taking yet another.

The wine we had was Alexander Valley. Light for a Cab, but that may be due to its age. 2004 may be a bit young yet, but this did have some fine Cab characteristics. It did well with the daube, but I haven't been home any other nights this week to finish it. A little (not too much) oxygen may let it relax a bit. It was a little tight, so it being open for a few days will either kill it or cure it. It was a nice wine, no matter what state it's in now.

Not really by technical difficulties, but rather because I've been freaking busy. Far busier than I'd like to be. Happily, the stew was very good. I have some decent pix and they'll be up...well, slightly soon.

Two nights of pouring wine doesn't leave much time to blog. Work, I'm sad to say has actually been WORK this week, which also doesn't help.

Although she's a better cook than I am and a FAR better photographer, I'm absolutely inspired by The Pioneer Woman ( http://thepioneerwomancooks.com/) and her cooking and blogging ways. Her writing style is just delightful too. Yep, she's darn near perfect and I weep at ever being that good, but still, I'll try.

With a cool front coming in, The Boy and I decided it was time for stew. So I assembled ingredients last night and started in.


Sorry, canned diced tomatoes, didn't mean to leave you out. I'm rather ADD as a cook and it shows worst in my attempts at mise en place. Oh well. Here you are, next to your purpose...the recipe from Cooking Light. Yeah, I said "Cooking Light". Wanna make something of it? They have good recipes, they're not freaks about abstaining from butter or sugar and since I'm not working out all that much, I have to show restraint SOMEWHERE.


The recipe calls for 12 cloves of garlic. TWELVE. Yum. If I were a good food blogger (like, maybe The Pioneer Woman), I'd have taken pictures through the cooking process and show you step by step. I'm afraid, Dear Reader, that I trust you can look up the recipe and manage it on your own if you're so inclined. See, I trust you. That and I was trying to watch the Steelers game. Did you know that the Pittsburgh Steelers have more female fans than any other NFL team? True. Inside the NFL did a story on it. As it turned out, I didn't need to worry about Ben and the Boys.
Eventually, all the lovely ingredients are going to end up in a pot. This time, I didn't use the lovely blue pot, but the lovely white pot. The Boy bought this one for me too. We weren't even hitched at the time. He just knew that I wanted it and that I'd make him some good meals in this pot.


See, lovely, isn't it? I admit, it's much more lovely when it looks like this...


After cooking this for a few minutes, the house had an incredible aroma of love. Well, not of "Looooove", but the "hey someone loves you and is cooking for you" aroma that generally comes from cooking garlic and other aromatics (hence the name "aromatic"). This should be stewed in the oven, but I decided to finish it in the Crock Pot. When I get home today, it will smell like someone stayed home all day and cooked dinner for The Boy and I. Mostly because the Crock Pot did that very thing. If it ever gets out and gets a real job, we'll not eat as well.

This is what it looks like in the Crock Pot. Yes, I know the handle is a little dirty. You cook on the handle of anything? Didn't think so. I'll clean it tonight; I was running late this morning.


It doesn't look very "stew-y" does it? I was worried too. I checked on it and it had plenty of liquid once I gave it a stir. Just to be safe, I added another half cup or so of broth.

And thus, here ends Part 1. I'll have more pix tomorrow of the finished product and the bread The Boy has promised to make. He's made it for his 4 wheel drive buddies and his work guys and has promised to now make it for ME. (Us really...)

Labels: foodie stuff

Cold weather (well, cold for Arkansas) is upon us and that says "throw something in a crock-pot" to me. Found a recipe in Cooking Light that sounded good and did the first part of the prep tonight. I'll post pictures tomorrow and probably Wed when I have pix of the final product. The Boy is going to make his bread that 2 different groups of people have raved about. I'll have to stop and get him some garlic. Never thought I'd run out of garlic 1 week and 2 dishes, but the stew calls for 12 cloves. The way the house smells right now, I forsee this becoming a favorite recipe.

Watch for pix!

Labels: foodie stuff

A common phrase, used with a little self-depreciation, to convey how easy something is. I've used it to convince a friend of mine that she really can cook and it's not that scary. This weekend, however, I heard the phrase in conjunction with kids. An acquaintance insisted that if she could have a kid, anyone--including me--could. I appreciate the confidence in my abilities, but I don't think I'm incapable of carrying, having and raising a child. Not to be overly vain about my abilities, but I've been pretty successful with most things I've put my mind to in my life.

The larger question is "Do I WANT to have kids?" and the answer is a resounding "no". As more of my parent's friends become grandparents, they want to join the club. I can get that they want to do what all the other cool kids are doing. But I have no more of a desire to have kids now than I did when I was 6, 16 or 26. Much to my chagrin, The Boy chimed in with his "I'm ready" when people would ask him how HE felt about kids. As I've thought more times than I've had hot dinners, I know my life would change with kids. I know that I underestimate how much. But I have a FAR better handle on that reality than he does. Maybe he's thinking his life wouldn't change that much, that he'd just do what he does now, but there'd be a kid to hang out with when he felt like it. Yet another reason I understand the reality better than he does. If that's what ended up happening, he'd have to find another place to live.

Of course, I got the usual tired arguments....
Dad: Who will take care of you when you're older?
My thoughts: Uh, been to any nursing homes, Dad? Full of people not being taken care of by their kids. And how much caretaking did YOU do during your Mom's final year? I seem to recall "not any at all".
What I actually said: "Hmmmm" (a useful phrase, I've found)
Family friend: Don't you want to give your parents a grandchild?
My thoughts: If I could find a spare one somewhere so they'd get off my back, don't you think I would?
What I actually said: "Hmmmm"
Same family friend: But The Boy wants kids, why don't you just have a couple?
My thoughts: The Boy can have as many kids as he wants; he just can't be married to me to do it.
What I actually said: "The Boy can have as many kids as he wants; he just can't be married to me to do it."
Hmmm, while a useful phrase, only gets you so far with people who think they can just "talk you out of" your position. Dad thinks I should "give it some serious thought". Right. I couldn't have POSSIBLY have given this life decision enough thought. Thanks for the advice Dad.