Currently reading: The House With a Clock In Its Walls by John Bellairs
I've read this book many times, but now I'm reading it to Christina a chapter at a time as an occasional bedtime story. What can I say? She likes bedtime stories. Lewis Barnavelt, the ten-year-old hero of the story, is something of a nitwit, but it's engaging enough. Christina tells me that the next book for bedtime reading will be less "creepy."
The Ill-Gotten Gains Dept.
I went shopping this afternoon for a kitchen trash can with a sealing top. You know, one of those canister jobbies with the step pedal like in doctor's offices. The decent-sized ones were all ridiculously expensive, except for one 38-liter model that was marked $49.99.
If you had told me ten years ago that not only would I pay $50 for a trash can but that I would find it a reasonable price, I would have told you that crack is a life-ruining substance and that discontinuing its use was in your best interests. But that was before I encountered the evil sugar ants that march along a trail from the light fixture to the kitchen trash in a disgusting display of arthropod tenaciousness. Hoping to stem the tide of tiny amber invaders, we have taken to sealing and sanitizing every possible source of sustenance. (The poison comes later, mark my words.)
These canister trash cans are not cheap. The 40-liter one that I really wanted was marked $119.99, so discovering this extremely nice 38-liter chrome can with the proper sealing lid at $50 was a real find. I trundled it over to the register, where it rang up at $89.99. Fortunately, the girl at the register honored the price as marked once I pointed it out to her, and I walked out with my step can and my Oxo Good Grips potato masher, feeling as if I had gotten away with some petty crime. There's an illicit joy in taking advantage of some stocker's mistake, and I was riding high on the wave of a forty-buck discount.
Pathetic, ain't it?
The Lady Was Right
The Lady (of The Lady and Sons restaurant in Savannah, discussed previously) gives some advice in her cookbook, and I think she may be on to something. Red potatoes are superior for many potato applications. Our country garlic mashies were heavenly. Here's the recipe (my own, since hers involves about a stick of butter and some white wine):
6 medium red potatoes
1 cup milk (we use 1%)
2 tablespoons garlic powder (all the fresh stuff had sprouted on me, else I would have used it)
1 tablespoon Butter Buds (or 2 tablespoons butter if you're not trying to avoid the stuff - you might want to use a little less milk if you use actual butter)
Cut the potatoes, leaving the skins on, into quarters. Cook for about 20 minutes in boiling water until done. (You should be able to crush a piece easily.) Drain. In a mixing bowl, combine potatoes, Butter Buds/butter, and garlic powder. Mash away with your masher, adding milk as necessary to smooth things out. Serve promptly.
If you're not a garlic fan, try some kosher salt, black pepper, and a bit of thyme or rosemary for flavor.
I've read this book many times, but now I'm reading it to Christina a chapter at a time as an occasional bedtime story. What can I say? She likes bedtime stories. Lewis Barnavelt, the ten-year-old hero of the story, is something of a nitwit, but it's engaging enough. Christina tells me that the next book for bedtime reading will be less "creepy."
The Ill-Gotten Gains Dept.
I went shopping this afternoon for a kitchen trash can with a sealing top. You know, one of those canister jobbies with the step pedal like in doctor's offices. The decent-sized ones were all ridiculously expensive, except for one 38-liter model that was marked $49.99.
If you had told me ten years ago that not only would I pay $50 for a trash can but that I would find it a reasonable price, I would have told you that crack is a life-ruining substance and that discontinuing its use was in your best interests. But that was before I encountered the evil sugar ants that march along a trail from the light fixture to the kitchen trash in a disgusting display of arthropod tenaciousness. Hoping to stem the tide of tiny amber invaders, we have taken to sealing and sanitizing every possible source of sustenance. (The poison comes later, mark my words.)
These canister trash cans are not cheap. The 40-liter one that I really wanted was marked $119.99, so discovering this extremely nice 38-liter chrome can with the proper sealing lid at $50 was a real find. I trundled it over to the register, where it rang up at $89.99. Fortunately, the girl at the register honored the price as marked once I pointed it out to her, and I walked out with my step can and my Oxo Good Grips potato masher, feeling as if I had gotten away with some petty crime. There's an illicit joy in taking advantage of some stocker's mistake, and I was riding high on the wave of a forty-buck discount.
Pathetic, ain't it?
The Lady Was Right
The Lady (of The Lady and Sons restaurant in Savannah, discussed previously) gives some advice in her cookbook, and I think she may be on to something. Red potatoes are superior for many potato applications. Our country garlic mashies were heavenly. Here's the recipe (my own, since hers involves about a stick of butter and some white wine):
6 medium red potatoes
1 cup milk (we use 1%)
2 tablespoons garlic powder (all the fresh stuff had sprouted on me, else I would have used it)
1 tablespoon Butter Buds (or 2 tablespoons butter if you're not trying to avoid the stuff - you might want to use a little less milk if you use actual butter)
Cut the potatoes, leaving the skins on, into quarters. Cook for about 20 minutes in boiling water until done. (You should be able to crush a piece easily.) Drain. In a mixing bowl, combine potatoes, Butter Buds/butter, and garlic powder. Mash away with your masher, adding milk as necessary to smooth things out. Serve promptly.
If you're not a garlic fan, try some kosher salt, black pepper, and a bit of thyme or rosemary for flavor.
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