We invented two more recipes tonight. One was rather eh but we think we know why. The other was delicious. The "eh" entry was a glaze for pork chops; in retrospect, it should be a marinade instead. We used butterflied boneless loin chops and even tenderized them in advance, but the meat was still pretty flavorless on the inside.
Peach Glaze for Pork that Should Be a Marinade
1/4 cup peach preserves
1 Tablespoon chili paste (the asian kind with crushed red pepper flakes in it)
1 Tablespoon apple cider vinegar
2 teaspoons soy sauce
We mixed this up and then heated it, and poured it over both sides of the pork. We recommend marinating for at least three hours before pan-searing the chops (we used two butterflied chops, which is the equivalent of four loin chops). Cook in a hot nonstick or cast iron skillet until the glaze starts to caramelize and the chops aren't pink in the center.
Delicious side dish:
Mashed Turnips with Thyme
2 lbs turnips
1/2 stick (4 T.) butter
2 tablespoons fresh thyme, chopped
1/4 cup sour cream
Trim and peel the turnips, then chop them into big chunks (about six pieces per turnip). Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and add the turnips; boil until tender, probably about 15 mins. While the turnips cook, melt the butter in a small skillet over medium heat and then saute the thyme in the melted butter until fragrant and the butter just barely starts to darken. When the turnips are tender, drain and mash by hand with a potato masher (ours is metal and wavy and works great, but it will scratch nonstick). Stir in the thyme butter and the sour cream and season well with salt and pepper.
We served the pork and the mashed turnips with Broccoli Blasted, which is a revelation of this oft-maligned vegetable. I seriously can't recommend it enough; we tried it at the Black Bottle in Seattle and literally inhaled a gigantic platter of it. The Epicurious recipe says it feeds four-to-six but that is very unlikely. We used more like 2 lbs of broccoli crowns and only had a bit left, just the two of us. Yum.
It's bedtime for Bonzo (why do I say that? Mom, what does that mean?). We went to the Titans game today (watched from an Executive Suite, if you can believe it) and did a lot of walking to avoid paying for parking or being stuck in traffic. We walked up to the Frist Center after the game and saw the Georgia O'Keeffe exhibit, which was lovely. Sometimes I miss her the way I miss Julia Child. And my grandmothers. That's weird, right? It's unseasonably warm in Nashville; honestly, it's been the most gorgeous fall that you could even imagine. But that means I spent most of this day uncomfortably sweaty, and hoofing it up Broadway in mid-afternoon definitely counts as cardio. The moral of this story: I'm beat, and for once it's for a legitimate reason.
P.S. We think that Cialis commercial with the old people sitting in side-by-side bathtubs in the woods or on top of a cliff is ridiculous. Bathtubs are heavy! Who hauls a bathtub (let alone TWO) out into the woods or up on a cliff just to sit naked in it next to their (presumed) wife of 40 years? And there is no running water up there, so did they haul the water in buckets too? Heat it over a fire? I doubt it. I bet those old folks are just sitting naked in empty bathtubs and feeling smug about what a great photo opportunity it all is.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
impressionable
Austin suggests I write about the first time I ever ate Ben & Jerry's Pistachio Pistachio ice cream. That was tonight. Very historic date in the life history of a girl who loves ice cream so dearly. Loves it so much that I took a picture of the astonishingly well-stocked ice cream accoutrement section at Publix and texted it to Agnes tonight. Strawberry marshmallow creme! Cupcake flavored Magic Shell! At least nine different types of ice cream cones! What is this wonderful world we're living in?I should blog about the soul-regenerating love fest of Guilty Pleasures last night. Or about my new haircut. Or about Kansas, a post I've been working on for a month now. I could talk about some of the new tricks our pets have picked up (Mischa twirls for food!).
Instead I'm going to go watch more Firefly and turn in early on this Saturday night. I'll leave you with an awfully sweet photo of my future husband and one of the things I love the most about him...It's not exactly the best picture of Digby, who is getting so fat, but how about our littlest kid over there with her big ears? This just warms my heart.
Friday, November 13, 2009
which is thirty-two, for the record
Ways in which I act younger than my actual age:
1. I ate three Pixy Stix (only orange and purple, thanks) and two mini-boxes of Nerds before I came home from work tonight.
2. I hate to take showers.
3. I stomp my foot when I'm frustrated and I squeal when I'm excited.
Ways in which I act older than my actual age:
1. I heard the new Britney Spears song this morning ("3") and said, out loud, in the car, by myself, "This is DIRTY! This is a dirty song!" like some kind of prim marmish person.
2. I am getting more and more forgetful. Like, solid information slipping from my brain. Today I asked Casey if one of her favorite authors was dead, and she clarified that he not only is indeed dead but I was the one who told her about his passing. Not that long ago. Data retention, it's failing me.
3. I am considering self-medicating with Dr. Pepper to ensure my energy level stays high for the rock show tonight. Because last night we literally climbed in bed at 9:30 pm (and couldn't even finish an episode of Firefly).
What rock show? Oh, just Guilty Pleasures. You know. My favorite 80s cover band in the whole entire world. They might be my favorite band of ANY genre. Talented folks on stage singing songs I've loved since I was a little girl, it simply doesn't get any better. And somehow I've tricked Agnes and Stacey and Kelley into going with me, which is nigh onto a miracle. I'm used to cruising these shows solo; the novelty of braving a crowded bar to see Matthew Wilder's "Break My Stride" performed by local funk god Aaron Winters is apparently lost on my nearest and dearest. But not tonight, I'm rolling out with the best ladies (and having sushi beforehand, because this night needs to be better, don't you think?) and I'd better go apply some fierce eyeliner in preparation.
1. I ate three Pixy Stix (only orange and purple, thanks) and two mini-boxes of Nerds before I came home from work tonight.
2. I hate to take showers.
3. I stomp my foot when I'm frustrated and I squeal when I'm excited.
Ways in which I act older than my actual age:
1. I heard the new Britney Spears song this morning ("3") and said, out loud, in the car, by myself, "This is DIRTY! This is a dirty song!" like some kind of prim marmish person.
2. I am getting more and more forgetful. Like, solid information slipping from my brain. Today I asked Casey if one of her favorite authors was dead, and she clarified that he not only is indeed dead but I was the one who told her about his passing. Not that long ago. Data retention, it's failing me.
3. I am considering self-medicating with Dr. Pepper to ensure my energy level stays high for the rock show tonight. Because last night we literally climbed in bed at 9:30 pm (and couldn't even finish an episode of Firefly).
What rock show? Oh, just Guilty Pleasures. You know. My favorite 80s cover band in the whole entire world. They might be my favorite band of ANY genre. Talented folks on stage singing songs I've loved since I was a little girl, it simply doesn't get any better. And somehow I've tricked Agnes and Stacey and Kelley into going with me, which is nigh onto a miracle. I'm used to cruising these shows solo; the novelty of braving a crowded bar to see Matthew Wilder's "Break My Stride" performed by local funk god Aaron Winters is apparently lost on my nearest and dearest. But not tonight, I'm rolling out with the best ladies (and having sushi beforehand, because this night needs to be better, don't you think?) and I'd better go apply some fierce eyeliner in preparation.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Things we're not going to do at our Wedding
(in no particular order)
1. Throw a bouquet
2. Throw a garter
3. Wear a garter, for that matter
4. Have a big cake
5. Cut the cake
6. A first dance all by ourselves (or with our parents)
7. A big entrance into the reception (No "Join me in welcoming, for the first time, Delaney and Austin Gray!")
8. Have a DJ
9. Have a band
10. Stay in separate places the night before
11. A traditional registry (we're only registering for our honeymoon)
12. Leave the reception before everyone else
13. Have a ringbearer or flower girl
14. Wait to see each other before I come down the aisle
15. Have photographs taken of our left hands stacked on top of each other
16. Make anyone wait in line for anything (if we can help it at all)
17. Feel rushed in any way
18. Hire a florist
19. Have a full bar
20. Serve butter that is too cold to spread on cornbread
21. The Chicken Dance, the YMCA, the bunny hop, the German Wedding March (much to my dismay) or any other coordinated group dances
22. Wear uncomfortable shoes
23. Listen to anyone telling us what we "have" to do
You wouldn't believe how many people have opinions about some of these things... I've been to so many lovely weddings with some (or all) of these features, and of course they were beautiful events that resulted in a newly wedded couple, which is the whole point. I'm certainly not issuing judgments. We're just tailoring our wedding to our personal tastes and the general vibe that we're trying to share. We'll have a fairly traditional ceremony (in the sense that we stand up at the front with our wedding party on either side of us, and exchange vows and rings and then kiss) and then we just want to have a big delicious dinner party with all our friends and family, which culminates in dancing and dessert. We're going to take a cab home at the end of the night and sleep in our own bed. And we're going to spend the next day with our visiting families, and then get up Monday morning and fly to Ireland (via Boston).
Or at least that's the plan. The catch to long engagements: too much time to change our minds. I've picked a different song to walk down the aisle to at least six times. Maybe if I'd only had three months to plan I could have made some decisions stick the first time around. As it is, we've still got plenty of time to work out the details and to get over the small stuff and to stick to our guns about the important parts (like cold butter. Unacceptable).
1. Throw a bouquet
2. Throw a garter
3. Wear a garter, for that matter
4. Have a big cake
5. Cut the cake
6. A first dance all by ourselves (or with our parents)
7. A big entrance into the reception (No "Join me in welcoming, for the first time, Delaney and Austin Gray!")
8. Have a DJ
9. Have a band
10. Stay in separate places the night before
11. A traditional registry (we're only registering for our honeymoon)
12. Leave the reception before everyone else
13. Have a ringbearer or flower girl
14. Wait to see each other before I come down the aisle
15. Have photographs taken of our left hands stacked on top of each other
16. Make anyone wait in line for anything (if we can help it at all)
17. Feel rushed in any way
18. Hire a florist
19. Have a full bar
20. Serve butter that is too cold to spread on cornbread
21. The Chicken Dance, the YMCA, the bunny hop, the German Wedding March (much to my dismay) or any other coordinated group dances
22. Wear uncomfortable shoes
23. Listen to anyone telling us what we "have" to do
You wouldn't believe how many people have opinions about some of these things... I've been to so many lovely weddings with some (or all) of these features, and of course they were beautiful events that resulted in a newly wedded couple, which is the whole point. I'm certainly not issuing judgments. We're just tailoring our wedding to our personal tastes and the general vibe that we're trying to share. We'll have a fairly traditional ceremony (in the sense that we stand up at the front with our wedding party on either side of us, and exchange vows and rings and then kiss) and then we just want to have a big delicious dinner party with all our friends and family, which culminates in dancing and dessert. We're going to take a cab home at the end of the night and sleep in our own bed. And we're going to spend the next day with our visiting families, and then get up Monday morning and fly to Ireland (via Boston).
Or at least that's the plan. The catch to long engagements: too much time to change our minds. I've picked a different song to walk down the aisle to at least six times. Maybe if I'd only had three months to plan I could have made some decisions stick the first time around. As it is, we've still got plenty of time to work out the details and to get over the small stuff and to stick to our guns about the important parts (like cold butter. Unacceptable).
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
excuses
If blogging is mental exercise (that's a stretch...) and 30 minutes on the treadmill at the Y is physical exercise, I think I can only suck it up for one or the other tonight. So I'm going to get in the shower. Maybe this is a new trend in me actually having the discipline to accomplish the things I set out to. Craft fabrication last night, workout tonight, what could lie in wait for tomorrow night? Those Black Bean Cakes that we keep postponing, perhaps.
Also, I had a great idea for a blog post earlier today, and it was likely related to food, and damn if I can remember it now. I need to start writing it down.
Also, I had a great idea for a blog post earlier today, and it was likely related to food, and damn if I can remember it now. I need to start writing it down.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
you're never going to believe this...
Tonight is Podcast Night in the Gill/Gray household. If you didn't already know, Austin and two friends have created a weekly podcast of NFL smacktalking, and they record on Tuesday nights (even if you don't care about football, check that link because my amazing fiance designed the website and has written all the blog copy so far. He's talented! That's why I picked him!). This means Tuesdays have become my night to eat leftovers and catch up on Gossip Girl (I mean, who watches that trash? Not me. Obvs). But the stars must have aligned, or all this wedding crafty talk is seeping into my brain, because tonight? I hope my dad is paying attention, because tonight, I made something.
I can't even remember if I mentioned this (probably not, since I skipped blogging for all of October) but I came home from visiting Austin's family in Kansas with a small fortune in vintage jewelery courtesy of his great-grandmother (Granny). I'm talking about a gallon ziploc bag crammed full of filigree bracelets, antique coin pendants and enamel brooches. I've been incorporating them into my wardrobe (and was glad for the influx of authenticity for my Joan Holloway costume) but haven't had anywhere to store these beautiful pieces. My childhood jewelery box has run out of space and charm and trying to artfully drape long chain-link necklaces on my (darling) earring holder was turning into a mess. I started researching necklace organizers, and found this on etsy. I sent Austin the link and said, "I could make this, don't you think?"
I don't know why you're acting so surprised. My job in college was in technical theater. I know my way around a power drill and soldering iron. I may love not camping, but I'm not 100% girlie girl. I just let you think that. So that you'll be all that more impressed when I show you my craft composition.
I started with a random piece of plywood we had laying around (we're homeowners! We have scraps of plywood in our living room! I think it was intended for kindling). I couldn't find the staple gun (or maybe we don't have one), so I used craft glue to attach a piece of green and white fabric from my optimistic fabric stash.
Then I drilled a series of pilot holes in the front, and screwed in a multitude of tiny cup hooks. I also learned how to use the Macro setting on my camera, score! I finished by attaching a couple of picture frame hooks to the top for wall-hanging purposes.
Tools I used: scissors, a borrowed drill (thanks, P. Block) and various pilot bits, needle-nosed pliers, a phillips-head screwdriver and a claw hammer. Injuries sustained: zero. Property damaged: none, other than a Gourmet magazine that is now riddled with drill holes and covered in dried glue. I even mounted the whole thing on the wall above my dressing table, and filled it up with shiny baubles.
Productivity on a Tuesday night! Unprecedented. The dogs thought I had lost my mind when I was hustling around gathering tools and materials. I also changed the light bulb in the garage, which is terrifying, trust me. And I might have managed to sneak in one episode of Gossip Girl, because I'm three weeks behind at this point, and that is simply unacceptable.
P. S. On a related note, has anyone heard of a crafty alternate use or adjustment for old-fashioned clip-on earrings to make them wearable? I tried to rock a pair on Halloween and my earlobes have yet to forgive me for the torture. But I have so many, and they're all so sparkly...
P. P. S. My abuse of the parenthetical aside is at an all-time high. Sorry (sort of).
I can't even remember if I mentioned this (probably not, since I skipped blogging for all of October) but I came home from visiting Austin's family in Kansas with a small fortune in vintage jewelery courtesy of his great-grandmother (Granny). I'm talking about a gallon ziploc bag crammed full of filigree bracelets, antique coin pendants and enamel brooches. I've been incorporating them into my wardrobe (and was glad for the influx of authenticity for my Joan Holloway costume) but haven't had anywhere to store these beautiful pieces. My childhood jewelery box has run out of space and charm and trying to artfully drape long chain-link necklaces on my (darling) earring holder was turning into a mess. I started researching necklace organizers, and found this on etsy. I sent Austin the link and said, "I could make this, don't you think?"
I don't know why you're acting so surprised. My job in college was in technical theater. I know my way around a power drill and soldering iron. I may love not camping, but I'm not 100% girlie girl. I just let you think that. So that you'll be all that more impressed when I show you my craft composition.
I started with a random piece of plywood we had laying around (we're homeowners! We have scraps of plywood in our living room! I think it was intended for kindling). I couldn't find the staple gun (or maybe we don't have one), so I used craft glue to attach a piece of green and white fabric from my optimistic fabric stash.
Then I drilled a series of pilot holes in the front, and screwed in a multitude of tiny cup hooks. I also learned how to use the Macro setting on my camera, score! I finished by attaching a couple of picture frame hooks to the top for wall-hanging purposes. 
Tools I used: scissors, a borrowed drill (thanks, P. Block) and various pilot bits, needle-nosed pliers, a phillips-head screwdriver and a claw hammer. Injuries sustained: zero. Property damaged: none, other than a Gourmet magazine that is now riddled with drill holes and covered in dried glue. I even mounted the whole thing on the wall above my dressing table, and filled it up with shiny baubles.
Productivity on a Tuesday night! Unprecedented. The dogs thought I had lost my mind when I was hustling around gathering tools and materials. I also changed the light bulb in the garage, which is terrifying, trust me. And I might have managed to sneak in one episode of Gossip Girl, because I'm three weeks behind at this point, and that is simply unacceptable. P. S. On a related note, has anyone heard of a crafty alternate use or adjustment for old-fashioned clip-on earrings to make them wearable? I tried to rock a pair on Halloween and my earlobes have yet to forgive me for the torture. But I have so many, and they're all so sparkly...
P. P. S. My abuse of the parenthetical aside is at an all-time high. Sorry (sort of).
Monday, November 9, 2009
small joys
If I were rich, I'm sure I'd be happy. I've always said I'd make a great rich person; I'm generous to a fault and take great joy in gift-giving and sharing. I would spread my wealth around like Dolly Levi and her manure. I'd probably have nicer clothes, but I also probably wouldn't treat them any better than my current Gap Outlet and TJ Maxx-provided wardrobe. I'd travel more, in short bursts, four days to visit Mom, a long weekend to see Jenny, that trip to Chicago that we keep swearing we'll take.
Otherwise, I don't see how different my life could be. Would I rather live in another house? No. Would I rather have a different car? No. Would I want to stop working? No. Would I spend time with different people? Absolutely not. And I don't think I'd ever voluntarily sign up for the weight that comes along with wealth. Right now I feel like I do what I can for the rest of the world; we've certainly earned our wings in the Stray Animal Adoption heaven, and we send small donations to our favorite charities (particularly Alzheimer's research) when we can. If I were rich, I don't know how I could justify the balance between giving and retaining. It would never be enough.
I'm seriously racking my brain to identify parts of my life I would change if money were no object. Because the only thing that's nagging at me right now is laziness about getting in shape, and that not only doesn't have to do with money but is actually WASTING the $17 a month we spend on a shared Y membership that rarely gets used. I make wishes every time I find an eyelash, and lately I just sit there and stare at the eyelash trying to remember what I need to wish for. And the other morning, I wished I would get into shape before the wedding. Wishes are for magic! Not for things that are perfectly well in my command if I just get off my lazy ass three mornings a week. Honestly. That's embarrassing.
My point here, though, isn't about the way I want to look in our wedding pictures. It's about the joy in my daily life that I never look past. If I won the lottery, would I still be filled with peace after dinner-and-a-movie with my future husband? Maybe. Would I get a rush of pleasure from a day's work done well? Who knows. But am I bursting at the seams with blessings? I am. Coming home to a house that smells like spaghetti in the crock pot, and rushing through my nightly cleansing routine in order to climb into freshly washed sheets... there in my life is joy.
Otherwise, I don't see how different my life could be. Would I rather live in another house? No. Would I rather have a different car? No. Would I want to stop working? No. Would I spend time with different people? Absolutely not. And I don't think I'd ever voluntarily sign up for the weight that comes along with wealth. Right now I feel like I do what I can for the rest of the world; we've certainly earned our wings in the Stray Animal Adoption heaven, and we send small donations to our favorite charities (particularly Alzheimer's research) when we can. If I were rich, I don't know how I could justify the balance between giving and retaining. It would never be enough.
I'm seriously racking my brain to identify parts of my life I would change if money were no object. Because the only thing that's nagging at me right now is laziness about getting in shape, and that not only doesn't have to do with money but is actually WASTING the $17 a month we spend on a shared Y membership that rarely gets used. I make wishes every time I find an eyelash, and lately I just sit there and stare at the eyelash trying to remember what I need to wish for. And the other morning, I wished I would get into shape before the wedding. Wishes are for magic! Not for things that are perfectly well in my command if I just get off my lazy ass three mornings a week. Honestly. That's embarrassing.
My point here, though, isn't about the way I want to look in our wedding pictures. It's about the joy in my daily life that I never look past. If I won the lottery, would I still be filled with peace after dinner-and-a-movie with my future husband? Maybe. Would I get a rush of pleasure from a day's work done well? Who knows. But am I bursting at the seams with blessings? I am. Coming home to a house that smells like spaghetti in the crock pot, and rushing through my nightly cleansing routine in order to climb into freshly washed sheets... there in my life is joy.
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