The Bet

I wrote this at the beginning of February but due to illness and an unexpected shift in responsibilities within roller derby, this is just now being posted. Oops.

Giraffe and I have been watching a lot of The Office lately and the first episode of Season 5 was a topic of conversation with a co-worker (Marine) and I. I mentioned that I thought their weight loss incentive program was a good idea especially given some of the waistlines around our office. So Marine says, "I'd win." I, being initially stunned at his outburst, went into explaining that it was by percentage lost and not pounds dropped and he said, "Nah. I'd still win." So then my competitive streak came out and I proposed a bet, mostly between he and I but open to anyone in our office. Whomever lost the biggest percentage by the first day of spring (March 20) would win. He said he wanted it to be in May and I said that was too long a time frame and he could also to pull in a ringer. (He's sneaky and super competitive.) We compromised and made it April 1, which is the day before our long Easter weekend.

Now here is our problem: we don't have a prize yet. He said bragging rights were sufficient, but knowing him, he could cheapen my win on bragging rights alone, so I need something tangible; however, I have no idea where to begin. Money is the first thought, but I'd rather have something I can look at and say, "I won that be beating a Marine." Any and all suggestions of prizes welcome.

The bet began on February 1 and so far I have lost 5 pounds according to the "official" scale at work. I'm on a combination of diets that Giraffe has researched fully and I can't believe how great I feel. I no longer suffer from low blood sugar attacks around eating times and I have amazing mental clarity. The diet kicked off by a 24-hour fast, which I normally do not agree with it but it was actually not hard and it helped reset my sleep cycles which are usually wonky. The next day I started on an Atkins type plan where I ate only meat for a couple of days. Again, not as bad as I thought it was going to be. After that, I was allowed to integrate some vegetables back in (salad) then it was small amounts of cheese. I found almonds to be the perfect snack, even though now I'm not hungry all the time between meals like I used to be.

The second part of the diet will be an anti-inflammatory diet, specifically the Asa Andrew one, that is similar to Atkins but takes out dairy, which has been making me sick lately anyways. I will, however, be allowed to drink Diet Coke again once I get to this stage! Hooray! I was doing the Asa Andrew diet for a while before the bet and found I liked it a lot. I didn't feel sluggish and had more energy. That's all I really want out of all this anyway: more energy, better lifestyle, and...oh yeah, bragging rights! Ha!

I haven't upped my exercise routine yet because I've been slightly under the weather, but that will change soon. I want to begin training for the same 5K I ran last May and need to work on securing a better time. Not to mention, I want to have faster laps around the derby track.

Hopefully soon I can sneak a picture of Marine so there can be before and after shots for both of us. Whee!

No Holds Barred, Cooking with Dad

Last night I was put in charge of cooking these little round steaks for Dad and I. I really had no idea how to go about it, but I decided to go the easy and healthy route. I put some margarine on the steaks, smothered them with a very aromatic rub, and broiled them.

They were awful.

My sides were alright, so I ate a couple bites and had seconds on sides. Dad, who will eat anything, ate one steak and said I should've fried them instead. I told him I had attempted country fried steak and gravy before and it turned out about as bad as these steaks were. I told him I would keep adding oil and flour, back and forth, and end up with a lot of questionable mushy paste. So Dad decides he's going to set me straight on making gravy.

He tells me to get the skillet hot with some oil and get out the rest of the steaks in the fridge. I grab the steaks, flour, and oil while he gets out the cutting board. Now, I'm wondering about this because he goes for the bamboo cutting board that I know he uses for other chopping and is not the dedicated meat board like I have. Oh no, there was no time to worry about cross contamination when Dad is cooking. He grew up in rural Georgia in the '40s, so cross contamination was to only make you stronger. Anyway, Dad then pulls out the biggest knife we have and says, "This is the way your grandmama cooked," then starts pounding the steaks with the knife making the kitchen shake and meat juice flying.

I cringed on the inside, and I am not a germophobe by any stretch of the imagination.

He then tells me to put the steaks in a bag full of flour and seasonings that he has picked out, which I think ended up being garlic salt and pepper but I can't be too sure. I think I was washing the meat juice off my hands and arms. I shake up the steaks and put them in the hot oil, filling up the pan with steaks. Then comes his most important instructions: "Now, don't touch them." So I stare at the pan and he goes to sit at the kitchen table. I start to wonder, "When are we going to flip them?" and I voice this concern. He replies, "I'll tell you when they're ready." But I really want to move them around the pan.

Oh how I wanted to move them around.

This made me realize one of my biggest problems with cooking. If I'm not working on things simultaneously, I get to a state of, I guess, boredom and start messing with the food I'm cooking right then. With these steaks, it would have been detrimental because what would become the crispy batter would slide off into the oil. So I decide to stop watching the steaks bubble and go sit down with Dad. I asked him about what sorts of things he enjoyed eating growing up and all about his childhood, which is still a partial mystery to me. He does not talk about it too much, so I always enjoy when he finally does start talking. I never met his parents so it's always nice to learn more and more about them. His mom seemed to be a typical Southern, self-sufficient woman living in a time where things were tight and could turn something into nothing. I aspire to be that type of cook where you only have a few things and can make a feast and can operate outside the confines of a recipe. I mentioned this to Dad and he said, "That's your momma." All I could say was, "Well, she taught me, so I come by it honest."

Eventually Dad says the steaks are ready to flip and I do so. The cooked side was perfect. He says that since the steaks are so tough they will need gravy in order to be edible after frying. After the steaks come out, he pours some of the oil out and tells me to get the leftover flour from the batter and pour a couple tablespoons into the oil. I stir that in making sure to get all the lumps out and he hands me the milk. I start pouring and he tells me he'll tell me when it's time to stop. My mind goes into overdrive because I'm trying to estimate quantities here and he's just telling me to pour till he says stop.

Man, I have got to learn to do this without flipping out.

After I stir all this up to make it smooth, Dad puts all the steaks back in the skillet with the gravy, pulls a plate out of the cabinet, and puts it in the skillet. I say in the skillet because it did not fit on top like a lid like I thought it was supposed to. Then he heads toward the door and says, "That's got to steam and thicken. I'm going to feed my chickens and will be back." I stand in the kitchen staring at the plate in the skillet and decide I have to leave the room because I will drive myself crazy when I start to reach out to touch something and draw my arm back in quickly after realizing I should leave things alone. So I leave the room and wait for Dad to come back inside so we can try these steaks out.

He finally comes back in around 20 minutes later and says to get the steaks out. The gravy had thickened and everything smelled wonderful. We sit down to try things out and they were incredibly good. I thanked Dad and he says, "You did it." I was in disbelief, but I guess I actually did do it, but with a little guidance. I will hopefully be able to recreate this later and show Giraffe that I can actually make gravy that does not double as an adhesive.

The evening was very heartwarming on several levels, but I will always remember the night that Dad taught me how to make country fried steaks and gravy and shared childhood stories.

One Picture Sum Up

iWeb and I have gotten through the honeymoon phase and now want to stay in separate rooms.

Gumbo Attempt No. 2

As you may remember, I had some issues making gumbo from a recipe my mom gave me. I have since built my confidence back up and am not deterred when trying out a new recipe and it doesn't taste good or doesn't go as planned. I realize now that it's all okay and just part of the process. At the end of last week, my mom asks if I'd rather have jambalaya or gumbo on Sunday night. I figure this is the perfect time to revisit the gumbo by being able to watch Mom make it and figure out what went so wrong when I did it.

Her first stray from the recipe was she cooks with less than the suggested 2 gallons of water/broth and then adds to it as she sees fit. I just went whole hog and dumped in the 2 gallons, like the recipe said. When making the roux, the recipe says to cook it until it becomes "the color of an old penny." I cook it until I think it's pretty dark and ask if it looks right to her. She goes and gets a penny to place on the counter next to me as a reference. Cute.

So I keep stirring and it's starting to smell like it's burnt and ask again if it's done. It gets to the point of looking like tar before she says it's perfect. So we forge ahead with the recipe and I'm waiting to see when she adds more liquid since we've only done a scant gallon and it's calling for 2.

We go through the entire recipe, which filled up her stock pot, and we never added anymore liquid. It was a quart shy of a full gallon. So I had 1 1/4 gallons more than she did. No wonder my gumbo was all wrong! I get hysterical about the recipe and how no wonder my gumbo was awful and all she has to say is, "[Who she got the recipe from] isn't precise on measurements." No kidding.

The gumbo turned out marvelous and even my dad, who is hard to please when it comes to true Louisiana cooking and finds something to complain at every Louisiana restaurant, said the gumbo was really good. Success!

So I'm basking the afterglow of righting my wrong and realizing that if the recipe is all wrong, it's not your fault and shouldn't feel inept all through dinner and continues on until we have to put all this gumbo up. We were worried we were going to run out of plastic containers it was so much leftover food. I fill up 3 of our biggest containers and still have a little leftover for us to freeze for later. I get out a quart sized hard plastic container for freezing and fill up as much as I can with the measuring cup. Then I ask Mom if she'd help me by either holding the pot over the container while I scrap the bottom out with a spoon or vice versa. She decides to hold the pot while I scrape. I finish getting all of the gumbo and it fits in the container just perfectly. Mom says, "Hang on, I need to set this pot down because it's heavy and hot," and tries to place it on the counter. The problem was she tried to set the big pot on the counter where the quart container was and managed to tip the container forward so it flies off the counter. Somehow the pot managed to stay on the counter, but the entire contents of the quart container splattered all over the floor.

I jump back into the wall to try to save myself from the splatter and only manage to get some on one of my toes. I look at the mess all on the floor and there is steam rising from pile because it had been on the stove on warm all through dinner for us to keep coming back for more and we cleaned up right after we were done eating so it hadn't had much time to cool off. I look over at Mom and she's got it all on the front of her shirt and her feet are just covered in it. She tried to fling some of it off but it was sticking pretty good. Let me also point out that we were both barefoot when this happened. No wonder they want you to wear close toed shoes in cooking classes.

Mom just looks back and forth between me and the mess while my mouth just hangs open in shock. It looked like she couldn't tell if she wanted to laugh or cry, but thankfully laughing type noises were coming from her. This is when I decide to move and try to wipe off the bottoms of our feet so she can go rinse them off in the tub. All my mom managed to say throughout this whole moment of shock and terror was, "It's burning my feet." So I got cold water running and ushered her towards the bathroom while I cleaned up the mess.

Apparently I'm cursed when it comes to gumbo. Gumbo voodoo.

Etsy Finds

I follow Super Kawaii Mama on Twitter and yesterday she posted a link to a really nice seller on Etsy called glamtownvintage. SKM was admiring a vintage dress they were selling, which led me to browse their shop. I ended up with two super cute things and I can't decide which one I like more!

Then today I was browsing Etsy again today and used the "pounce" function, which randomizes sellers for you to check out by either shops who have just made a sale or shops who have yet to make a sale. I took pity on the latter because I hope to open my own Etsy shop someday and will be anxious waiting for my first sale. So I "pounced" a few times and was finally led to srzimmartist. She had three paintings for sale and when I saw her "Tree of Dreams," I was hooked.

One Picture Sum Up

My weekend: 

Thanks to all who donated their time and backs to the project!

Moving and Reconnection

As promised, I'm going to get back to updating my blog since I have now moved away from my friends that I have enjoyed getting to know for the past two years. I have moved back to my hometown, which is still surreal after being here almost a month, but I still feel like a part of me is still in Nashville. Although part of me is still there because I still have to move the rest of my things this weekend!

Since my things are mostly packed up and not at my parents' house, I've been having a hard time getting past the feeling of being home for the holidays. The kitchen is the same as it always was, but the things that I know are going to be in my kitchen are not there. I didn't do a whole lot of cooking on my own growing up aside from baking, so I'm having to learn my childhood kitchen. Isn't that weird? Now, I always hung out in the kitchen with Mom, but I would mostly talk or she'd hand me something to stir while we were chatting. I did know where a few staples were without question, like the lemon pepper, bouillon cubes, pots, measuring cups, and other things I used on a regular basis. Mom told me last week she bought some canned salmon and I should make salmon cakes. I got all excited for a moment before I started wondering, "Where are the breadcrumbs?" That was when I realized I'm out of touch.

Last night I decided to do a test run because I was missing the simple domesticity of my life, so I was going to cook some soup. I had recently had some delicious She Crab Soup and I wanted to try my hand at it. I went to Old Bay's website and in their recipe archive, I found a recipe for Cream of Crab soup. Close enough. Plus it's Old Bay, so how can I go wrong?

CREAM OF CRAB SOUP

INGREDIENTS

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter

1 medium onion, coarsely chopped (1 cup)

1/3 cup flour

4 cup milk or half-and-half

1 tablespoon OLD BAY® Seasoning

1/2 teaspoon McCormick® Parsley Flakes

1 pound lump crabmeat

3 tablespoons dry sherry or cooking sherry (optional)

DIRECTIONS

Melt butter in 3-quart saucepan on medium heat. Add onion; cook and stir 5 minutes or until softened. Add flour and Old Bay; whisk until well blended. Whisking constantly, gradually add milk.

Stir in crabmeat. Reduce heat to low; simmer 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Stir in sherry, if desired. Heat 1 to 2 minutes. Sprinkle with additional Old Bay, if desired.

I didn't measure the sherry, but only added a little for fear of it overpowering the soup. I also didn't add any parsley flakes because I was in a hurry and kept reading the instructions over and over again without looking back up at the ingredients at the top. Additionally, I used a scant pound of crabmeat because I used two little cans of lump crabmeat rather than buying it fresh. The soup turned out delicious and made quite a bit. I used a quart of half and half to make it rich, so I recommend if you do the same, you only have a cup or so of soup with something else. I had a bowl of it and a garlic breadstick and was ready for a nap afterwards. I brought it for lunch today and we'll see how that goes in the afternoon slump.

With all the hoopla of moving and all, I hadn't been able to cook in a long time so it was nice to be able to come home, truly home, and have a recipe success.