You Still Gotta Eat

I'm not going to get into details here but suffice it to say, I would like to remind an old friend that along with the horrible things that happen in life, there are many joyful things as well.  For me, cooking a good hearty meal for some good hearty friends makes me ridiculously happy.

As I am not there to cook for him today, I'm giving him this to cook for himself in the hope that it is a little bit of blue sky on a very gloomy day.

Karen's Sauce

First you get your big pot.  I have a 5 quart dutch oven which works just great.  Add about 1 1/2 teaspoons of olive oil and put it over a medium flame. 

While the oil heats up season six bone in, skin on chicken thighs with salt and pepper.  Put the first three in the pot, skin down and raise the flame to medium high.  When the skin is nice and brown, flip them over and brown the other side.  Once they are nice and brown, repeat this with the other three chicken thighs.  If you can find pork neck bones, brown off about 3/4 lb. of those as well.  I use the lid of the pot to hold all the already browned meat but you can certainly use a plate if you want to.

If you are making a vegetarian version, skip this first paragraph and start with about 1/4 cup of oil in your pot. 

While the meat is browning, chop up about 2 cups of onions.  No need to be exact.  Imperfection is the rule here.  Not too small, not too big.  Just chop away.  Once alll the meat is browned and of the pot, put the onions into the hot chicken fat (yeah, this shiksa cooks with schmaltz).  Give them a good stir and a good pinch of salt and get them sauteeing.

While the onions are cooking, chop up about 2 tablespoons of garlic.  Hard to say how many cloves.  Just chop away until it looks like two tablespoons.  The onions will be nice and golden and have some brown bits on them by now.  Toss in the garlic.  Stir it all up and let the garlic cook for a few minutes until it gets lightly golden.  By now your onions should be pretty soft.

Add about a cup or so of water.  I usually just use a coffee mug.  Turn the heat to high and bring it up to a boil scraping up the bits on the bottom of the pot.  Once it is boiling, turn the heat down to almost low (not quite all the way low) and let it simmer away until it all reduces into a mush that is just starting to stick to the bottom of the pot.  This will take about 15 or 20 minutes.  Stir it every so often.  For some reason, this step is key.  It does something with the fat that was left in the pot and the onions that make them melt once the sauce is ready.  Yum.

Next step--easy peasy.  Add about 1/2 a little can of tomato paste.  Stir it all up until the tomato paste melts into the onions.  Grab your coffee cup that you used for your water and fill it with cheap, fruity red wine (I like Paisano for this).  Pour a little in the pan and deglaze it again.

You're almost done!  You need three cans of tomatoes.  Your choice.  I like smooth sauce so I use one can of crushed and 2 of puree.  If you like it chunky switch out one or both puree for whole peeled tomatoes.  Just break them up with your hands as you put them (and all their juices into the pot).  Now line the three cans up, pour the rest of the wine into the first can, swirl it around and get all the leftovers off the can and then pour it into the second can.  Proceed until you have rinsed all three cans with vino.

Pour the wine into the pot.  Add a small palmful of dried oregano and a small palmful of dried basil.  I always rub the dried herbs between my palms to open up the oils.  Give it some black pepper, stir it all up and put all the meat back in the pot.  Bring the whole thing up to a boil.  Note:  If it seems really thick at this point, add a coffee cup full of water. 

Once it is boiling, turn the heat down to low and put the lid on the pot, slightly askew.  Stir it every so often and keep a nice chunk of Italian bread on the side so you can taste it as you go.  Let it simmer for about three hours.  Once it's done, take the meat out.  Toss the neck bones and shred the chicken.  You can do whatever you want with the chicken.  Sometimes I mix into baked ziti.  Sometimes I make lasagna.  Sometimes I just toss it back in the pot.  The acid from the tomatoes keeps it very moist (at least that's what I think does it) and it doesn't get dry and stringy like most boiled chicken.

Now for the meatballs.

1 1/2 pounds 80% fat chopped meat

1/2 cup seasoned breadcrumbs

1/2 cup milk

2 eggs

2 teaspoons dried onions (also called instant minced onions)

1 teaspoon worcestshire sauce

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon pepper

1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese

Preheat the oven to 350.  Mix all the ingredients with your hands.  It will be a very wet mixture.  Roll it into the size meatballs you like, put them on a rimmed baking sheet and bake until done.  It depends on the size--they should feel firm when you touch them.  Or just cut one open and eat it.  It should be just barely the other side of pink.

Eat, eat, eat. 

Enjoy!

Love,

Karen

Please Sing

I just watched the Les Miserables performance on the Oscar and I was amazed by all the people who I never thought of as singers.  Actors, yes.  Singers, no.  As an aside, Russell Crowe was not one of them as my friend Kathleen dragged my sorry ass to Philadelphia once to see his band.

Many years ago I saw the architect Bill McDonough speak.  If you don't know who he is, google him.  He's pretty rockin'.  One of the things that he said that really stuck with me was that if you ask a group of kindergarteners if they can sing, they will not only all say yes but they will offer to sing you a song.  But if you go back to the same group of kids 10 years later, for the most part, they will say that they cannot sing.  His point was that somewhere along the line we were teaching children what they cannot do rather than what they can.

The performance tonight reminded me of that.  We all have the physical ability to sing but for the most part, we don't.  We talk without ever worrying about what our speaking voice sounds like but we are so very shy (unless there is alcohol involved) about singing.

Last night we went to Brian's cousin's house.  Around 9 o'clock, much to my surprise, they turned on the karaoke machine.  And everyone sang.  We sang Beatles songs and Lou Reed and everything in between.  Bob and I sang "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me"--he was Elton John and I was George Michael just so I could say that big, loud "Ladies and Gentlemen Mr. Elton John".

Today, I couldn't stop singing.  I sang "The Witchita Line Man".  I sang "Bang Bang".  I sang AC/DC, Tanya Tucker, Kiss, and everything in between.

A long time ago at the end of a long night, I sang Amazing Grace for some friends.  I sang it with no shame and no worries.  And it was so beautiful.  A few months ago, I sang  "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" for Brian.  And he thought it was beautiful.

So lets "forget your troubles and just get happy" and just for a few minutes, sing like you are an Oscar winner.

What will you sing?

Just A Few Thoughts

I know the blog has been dark for a while.  Life has been, well, life.  I've been busy.  I have a lot to tell you but the timing just hasn't worked out.

I am so tired right now but I really needed to sit down and write some things down.  Perhaps it is my equivalent of therapy.  Or maybe this has just been the kind of week where everyone needs their voice to be heard.

I feel the need to make a list.

1.  I put up a post on facebook asking for more attention to mental illness in our country.  It is at best ignored and at worst treated as a joke.  My case in point is Charlie Sheen.  The man had an extremely public mental breakdown. It was prime fodder for late night talk shows.  If he had cancer, people would have reacted very very differently to his illness.

Many mental health advocates have spoken out about the criminalization of mental illness.  I feel like they don't understand that most of us who are raising this issue are actually on their side.  If we don't ignore it or joke about it perhaps we can actually help the people who are suffering from it.  Many get treatment but many many more go untreated.  And, much like people who are untreated for the flu or un-vaccinated for measles, there are public health consequences.

2.  You can believe whatever you want to believe but I do not--and will never--believe in a vengeful God.  People like Mike Huckabee are basically saying that God is saying "Fuck You" to humanity.  I don't know what or who God is.  I don't possess the necessary hubris to demand that my God is better than your God or that God loves me best.  But I do, quite deeply and profoundly, believe that there are things in the world that are unexplained and God is one of those.  And I believe that whatever or whoever is greater than I am would much prefer that I choose kindness and goodness rather than hatred and isolation.  If you are a letter of the law biblical believer I will respect your right to be that person.  I am not.  But the bible has led me to believe, via the concept of deadly sins, that God is not proud.

3.  Please please please keep your grief in context.  I am very sad for the families who have suffered this week.  In the spirit of bearing witness, I read the names of all those poor little children as soon as they were published.  I read every syllable slowly, with respect.  And I wept.  But I wept for the fear I feel right now.  I wept because my inability to conceive of this kind of pain is uncomfortable for me.

But know this and know it well.  Every single person who has not been directly affected by this tragecy should be weeping for the fact that we are so very lucky.

So please don't ask for my compassion right now if you are crying over the news.  I am too.  And for heavens sake don't show up in their neighborhood or at their funerals if you don't belong there.  You will be taking a parking space from someone who has lost a family member or friend.  And those people should not have to walk one extra step because you needed to get in their way.

4.  I'm going to do the multiple please thing again.  Please please please please please start compromising.  I sent a letter to the NRA today offering to compromise with them.  I asked my Congresswoman to be a voice for compromise in our government.   For heavens sake, we've heard more than enough about the second ammendment this week.  Let's please please please talk about the first amendment and exercise our right to freedom of speech and talk about this, work things out and find a common ground.  Whenever I have a conflict at work, I tell my employees that it is highly unlikely that anyone will get their own way but it is also highly likely that everyone will end up happy enough.  Can't we work on that on a bigger level?

Love,

Karen

Step Right Up

Mitt Romney is a carny.

Now before anyone wants to jump down my throat and argue across party lines or tell me I don't know what I am talking about, let me give you some information.  I am the daughter of a carny so I know one when I see one.  This has nothing to do with gender, age, race or political alliance.  It has to do with the fact that the man could have a brilliant career on the side show circuit.

See here's what any good carny will tell you is the key to a successful pitch--a good bally and then distract the marks!  Yes sir, yes sir, step right up and see the giant!  Nine feet ten inches tall (never mind that the guy is six foot six).  Then they'll be pointing out the fine quality stuffed bears on the top shelf that you could win--yessiree!--with their right hand while they are setting the rig on the game with their left foot.   Engage the mark with enthusiasm and promises and then distract them so you can set them up and send them home with empty pockets.

And here's what Mitt Romney did.

In the first debate he went after PBS.  And then for good measure threw in Big Bird.  It's a brilliant bally!  Take something that you know the liberals will flip their wigs over (public television) and throw in an icon.  Now watch the marks tripping over themselves to get onto facebook and kvetch about it.

The reality of this is that the federal government is not a major source of funding for PBS.  It is however, a major source for Corporation for Public Broadcasting.  Well, major for them.  In terms of annual federal spending the amount they get is a blip.  And Big Bird doesn't work for either of them.  He works for Sesame Street.  Granted they are all connected but please don't suggest to me that if public broadcasting disappeared tomorrow, that Nickelodeon wouldn't jump on the chance to syndicate Sesame Street.  And they would make a boat load of money on it.

The internet was on fire!!!!  No one was talking about any of the issues.  No siree Bob!  It was all about Big Bird.  No conversations on the monetary value of pre-school preparatory education that shows like Sesame Street provide.  How many children, I wonder, have started school already knowing their numbers, their letters and having a good running start on learning how to read because of Sesame Street.  An analysis of the actual value of federal dollars spent is the real point.  Big Bird is a puppet--he'll be fine.

Distraction at its finest.

And last night's show was even better.  Distract distract distract!  "I have binders full of women" is the debate equivalent of "Come see the living headless body!"  It's a mirror trick.  There is no such thing as a living headless body.  And so far, there is no such thing as any significant female presence in the Romney campaign or cabinet planning.  It's a trick.  A sleight of hand.  And it's all anyone can talk about today.  Truth be told, I'm having a really hard time stopping myself from making binder jokes.  It's really fun!

Here's the part where this gets political.  I blame the Republican Party for building this midway.  In 2008, the Palin family was trotted out like the Tiny Tim and Miss Vicky of the election. At the time, I believed that the Palin's were there so the party could have a scapegoat when they lost.  But it turned out, the Palins fired the country up.  The result--an even larger gap between the Democrats and the Republicans.  The rhetoric of the past four years has been outstanding.  From the birthers to the Tea Party and everything in between the lack of focus on real issues and real accountability has been profound.  And the party seems to have decided that "Step Right Up" is the new campaign slogan.  And this year we are getting an even bigger and better show.

Our current administration did not start the bailouts but I have lost count of the number of times that President Obama has been blamed for them.  The wars were already going full force.  The economy was already in the crapper.  I could go on but I won't.  

What we got from the Republican Party was a series of sideshows.   So often information was either misleading (the famous man eating chicken gag) or patently false (the girl into a gorilla gag).  And Governor Romney, who claims to be an intelligent man, allowed himself to become the pitch man for this hot mess.

Which is the main reason why I don't like him.  He believes that we are all willing marks who will fall for any trick or gag that they come up with.  It's insulting, it's dangerous and it reeks of hubris.

I am proud to be categorized as a liberal based on my values and my beliefs (actually, my uncle called me a screaming pinko liberal when I was in seventh grade but that's a story for another day).  A huge part of my value system is respect for other people's opinions, values and beliefs unless I find them illegal, hateful or immoral.  For most conservatives, that is not the case.  They are simply good people who see the world differently than I do.  And I am fine with that.  I like living in a country where we are all allowed to be different and to share our differences. 

As proud as I am of being a liberal, I am equally proud of the people who share my values of acceptance, mutual intelligence, discourse and tolerance regardless of their politics.  I wish our political system would do the same.

Dodge Ball

I have always hated the game dodge ball.  As a matter of fact, I used to do my best to get myself intentionally knocked out of play early on in the game so I wouldn't have to deal with it at all.  I can state with extreme confidence that I suck at any kind of sport (except volley ball which I am oddly and freakishly good at) but I can't think of another sport that I actively loathe as much as dodge ball. 

Actually, I think that more specifically, I am bad at any sport that involves catching a ball.  For whatever reason, I always shy away from it and end up getting slammed with the ball.  Taking into consideration the fact that the entire point of dodge ball is to slam your opponent with the ball, it was really a double whammy for me during those torturous years when I was forced to play.   Those fabulous Catholic school gym uniforms were long enough to be totally uncool yet short enough to leave a good long stretch of bare, naked, white thigh just begging to be slammed into with a red rubber ball.  And everyone knows there is nothing prettier than having that star pattern from the ball burned into your tender young flesh. 

Right now I have a motherless whore of a cold that I am calling the Great Dodge Ball Cold of 2012.  Because I didn't catch it.  It was thrown at me and slammed me a good one.   Much like that one kid in the class who was really good at dodge ball, I've been dancing around happily while those around me have been dropping like flies.  The hubris!  Yesterday I got dropped by a big red star patterned rubber ball of a germ and I am paying the price.

So I've made a few new rules that we will all have to live by (you all do live by my rules already don't you?).

1.  I don't care how much you love him.  You have to pay attention and remember not to kiss the man with the cold.  At least don't kiss him on the lips. 

2.  If you feel too crappy to get up and find that lace shawl you are knitting do not even consider pushing yourself to do it.  You will screw up and you may cry.  And let's be honest here.  You already look awful.  Crying is not going to help.  Opt for a plain sock.  You should always have one of those within arms reach anyway and if you fall asleep halfway through a row it won't matter.

3.  Do not--under any circumstances--let go of the black car key on the black clicker in a purse with a black lining that is filled with black yarn.   You might as well just lay down on the ground right where you are because you are not going to find that key any time soon.

4.  A hot toddy really will make you feel better.

5.  Two hot toddies will put you right to sleep.

6.  WARNING WARNING WARNING Three hot toddies will make you feel even worse. 

I'm going to lay on the couch until I feel better. Which right now feels like that may be never.  But at least I don't groan like someone else who is on the couch right now.  I have the courtesy to suffer in silence.

Cluster F&%k

I'm working on a really pretty piece of knitting.  The pattern is amazing, the yarn is beyond gorgeous and I am having such fun just tootling along on it.

Until row 58.

Suffice it to say that row 58 can suck it.  Big time.  In the very middle of the row the instructions say this:

Purl 7 together leaving them on the needle.
Yarn over and then purl the same 7 together again.
Repeat this 3 times.

Do you have any idea how effing hard that is!!!!!!!!!!

Earlier I had emailed the designer to ask her if the cluster was part of the engineering of the lace pattern or if it was there just to be pretty.   It was really a curiosity--not my inner child screaming please don't make me do this!!   She very kindly answered quickly that it was just for show and I could skip it if I wanted to.  Please note that I say she said it "kindly".  Not sarcastically or smarmily.

My answer to that was "oh yeah--IT'S BEEN BROUGHT".  There was no way I wasn't doing the stupid cluster now.

At this time, I would like to share with you the email that I sent to the group for this project::

So I tried the cluster. And then I tried it again. And again. And again. I was starting to feel like Liz Taylor going back to Richard Burton even though I knew it wasn't going to work but I kept on trying.

Then I got a really small needle and a really small crochet hook and I actually succeeded in creating a cluster. And it was so tight the yarn was actually screaming! Tight like my Aunt Geraldine at an afternoon wedding. Tight like Jordache jeans in 1983. Tight like Richard Burton that last time he married Liz.

So I ripped it out. And I swore. The nicest thing I said was "motherless whore". I won't get into where it went from there because it's pretty embarrassing. Brian actually took the knitting away from me and sent me to bed with a glass of wine and a cheap mystery novel.

I avoided my knitting this morning. I actually vacuumed instead of knitting. I went to work and pretended that it wasn't sitting at home mocking me. By the way, at this point I would like to thank all of you who posted pictures of your gorgeously and perfectly executed clusters. I have now forgiven all of you for your fabulous talents but last night I was googling all of you and planning out a road trip that involved a serious set of double point needles and a producer from "48 Hours". I had murder on my mind and fire in my eyes and not a single one of you were safe.

Until I realized that I could totally reverse engineer the whole thing. I got a darning needle and Brian's big yellow work light and did the whole cluster backwards and it worked like a charm. Took a minute to get my groove on while I was doing it and I had to apologize for barking at Brian "can you please shut up because I think it's really obvious that I am purling 7 stitches together backwards to make this cluster stitch and I can't do it if you keep talking to me and by the way talking with your hands right in front of the huge bright light that I brought over to help me with this is also really not helping because the fact that you can make a shadow puppet of a bunny rabbit talking to a chicken does not help me get all these stitches to do what I want to without calling them a motherless whore yet again".

Yeah--it was that kind of fun.  And I had to do the little bastard again on row 78.

Which actually worked out just fine because I used my totally cock-a-mamie backwards method and I loved it.

First I put the 7 stitches on a smaller double point.

Yes my double point is a little bit bent.  I occasionally have the claw of death when I'm trying to fiddle with something and I have no problem forcing my will on my needles.

Then take the working yarn and thread a loop through the eye of a blunt darning needle.

Instead of bringing the working knitting needle to the yarn, I brought the yarn to the working needle.  Slide the darner along the stitches on the double point and place the loop onto your working needle.  Yarn over and do it again and SHAZAAM!!!  before you know it you have a pretty little cluster.

P.S.  I know my photos suck but the light wasn't good and it been sitting around waiting to be photographed for so long that I finally just sucked it up and did the best my little camera could do.

Today

I woke up this morning thinking of this poem.  It's my favorite poem because it speaks so beautifully of loss.  And yet, it makes me always covet, rather than mourn, the things that are gone.  And it always makes me remember the things that others are still experiencing that have become a part of my past. I find a deep and profound beauty in seeing someone experience magic while knowing that eventually it will become mundane.

So today, I decided that I just wanted normal back.   Whatever that means.  I was going to reclaim my past.

This is my normal.

We get up very early in the morning.  Actually, I should rephrase that--I get up very early in the morning.  And then I spend a half an hour waking my sweetie up.  And he bitches about it.  And that's just fine because it's our normal morning.

We stop at the corner store and he runs in and gets a bagel or a sandwich or a roll.  It doesn't really matter.  Suddenly the car smells like coffee and the man in the seat next to me gives me bites while I drive.

Driving at dawn here in the Y.O. will take your breath away.  You come over the tops of really high hills only to be greeted by the most amazing dawn light that you've ever seen.  This time of year it is golden (it will turn bluer and bluer until we reach the deepest of winter) and it takes my breathe away. 

We shoot down the east side of Manhattan.  I have the alarms on my phone set to make sure that we are on time.  From 106th Street to the job site is (at the most) 12 minutes.  I do that math.  I count the minutes to make sure we are on time. 

Around 6:20 the phone starts to ring and I start calling people into work. Brian helps. He answers the phone and he calls people back and he is just terrific. 

Just past 15th Street there is a hill in the right lane and if you hit it just right and you go fast enough it's like a roller coaster.  I hit it just right and give a very quiet "woo hoo".  Brian always laughs a little bit at me when I do it but I think he likes it.

I drop him off at the job and I always check to be sure that the two grey haired guys (turns out they are ceiling guys) are still standing outside drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes.  If they are there, then we are on time.  This morning, the younger one had gotten a hair cut.

And then I turn around and go home.

The sun is always blinding by now and the traffic gets thicker and thicker but it's all on the other side of the FDR so I breeze up the river.  I try to ride in the right line so it feels a little bit like I'm in a boat.

Over the Willis Avenue Bridge and there is this stunningly beautiful billboard.  In all shades of orange it says "GRATITUDE". 
 And I started crying.

I didn't cry a lot.  I got home and did my little bits of housework and took a shower and left for work.  I had the car radio on and was listening to the news and the children's choir start singing the national anthem and I lost it.

I'm a sucker for the national anthem (actually--any national anthem--it doesn't have to be ours) on a good day.  But, man, if you give me children singing like angels on September 11th you might as well just kick me in the shins.  I was weeping.

I tidied up, got to work, and did my morning check.  And the Yarn Harlot had this.    Scroll down to the entry about the wedding flash mob.  Remember John? The guy who died?  He loved a flash mob.  So I lost it again. 

My day that was supposed to be about normal had beaten me down and become all about loss and grief.  Turns out that I don't actually have as much control as I think I have. 

I always really hate a column or blog post that ends with some sort of pithy phrase so please accept my apologies now.

I'm still trying that figure out what the gratitude sign wanted me to do.  I think I know but I do wish that it given me more specific instructions.