have a potentially life altering thanksgiving

I made a potentially life altering decision yesterday. One that may lead my husband to divorce me and my children to file for legal emancipation.

Our Thanksgiving meal, for the first time in 19 years, will include the turkey stuffed with oranges but will not include these:

You know, those tired, store-brand white parker dinner rolls that come on a waxy cardboard tray. Or the ones that are shaped like a chef hat. But whatever shape, they've got an unforgiving bake time: three seconds too late and they go from soft and doughy to dry and tough. They were always on the Thanksgiving table at my and my husband's houses growing up despite the fact that my family was East coast and his was Gulf coast.

Everyone in my family loves them but me. Every year I try to leave them off the menu but Sam manages to come through the door last minute, "Don't worry. I bought the rolls!"

But so far the lack of rolls has gone unnoticed or at least unmentioned. If the table manages to get loaded up with food and the rolls aren't there? I will need every form of positive thought, strength vibe or remnant of the last harmonic convergence to get through the meal without dodging spit balls of cornbread stuffing

So readers, what's not on your menu this year?

leaps better

Leap

by Richard Cardona

Philadelphia, PA

Thanks for all of the well wishes, bloggy friends. I'm not sure if this cold was a mild one, but it was certainly short lived. Maybe it was because I took my own advice, for once, and drank gallons of water. Or maybe all of those zinc lozenges I was sucking on day and night actually worked. Or maybe I was just exaggerating my symptoms all along because of all the peace and quiet perks.

But, the why-come isn't so important. It's the feeling leaps better that is. And relieved this cold did not turn into three weeks worth of annoying hacking cough, like they usually do.

One funny thing that happened during my woe-is-me convalescence. I switched from my usual habit of drinking decaff-mocha-coffee to green tea.

For the past few years, at least, a cup of green tea held about as much appeal for me as a jump into an ice cold lake. But I started drinking it because it was lighter than my coffee-candy concoction, and, bonus points, healthier.

Now that I'm pretty close to back to normal, I've started adding vanilla flavored soy milk to my green tea, something that sounded horrible to me three weeks ago but now tastes reallllly good.

Weird. Tastes come and go for me. I'm used to that. But this is a big switch. Right now it's all I think about. Heating up water for my daily two three four cups of green tea.

How about you, reader? Any radical shifts in food or drink obsessions preferences lately?

protozoa in your piehole

I read this in my local paper a few days ago: Study finds dangerous bacteria lurks in shower heads. Warns: Do not stand directly under shower spray when first turned on.

Wait. Do people really have to be instructed to stand away from the shower head when they turn on the jets? Isn't the blast of icy cold on warm body deterrent enough?

But to my point. As if we don't have enough to worry about with drug cartels across our borders, economic forecasts dependent on Asia, and nuclear threat in the Middle East, do we really need news outlets publishing one unreplicated study story after another that warn us of the dangers lurking right in our own homes? Cancer from barbeque, radiation from cell phones, hormone additives in our dairy, BPA in the baby bottles, pesticides on our produce, salmonella in the salad. Is there no safe harbor from unseen domestic dangers?

Yet, last I heard, people are living longer than ever. Nursing homes are crowded. No room at the Sunset Inn for grandma. How can this be?

And if is there a better example of toxicological irony, please share in the comments: After everyone but me traded in their BPA laced Nalgene bottles for SIGG containers, SIGG

revealed that their proprietary ‘water-based epoxy liner’ which coated the inside of every SIGG reusable bottle made before August 2008, contained trace amounts of BPA.

So given all of this fear driven news, I sincerely expect to see an article that reads,

Scientists Warn: Kissing is Dangerous

Research microbiologists report findings from a study indicating hundreds of millions of bacteria are found in human saliva. Six hundred different microbial species of bacteria are waiting to spring from that red and white cavity behind your lips.

Stand back, study warns. There's fungi on your face. Cooties on your kisser. Protozoa in your piehole.

What can we do to protect ourselves from this bacterial quagmire?

Dr. Hal I.Tosis of U of OCD recommends donning protective head gear:

low hanging breastesses are best

On the turkey, that is. When you cook it.

My husband, SAM, used to take his morning coffee at a diner with a man named Harry who shared his prized Thanksgiving Day tips. Many moons past Harry was a cook in the Army Air Corps during WW II. He later owned a popular local restaurant. Somewhere in between Harry cooked for Lyndon Johnson when the President was visiting Bergstrom Air force Base. LBJ was impressed, especially with Harry's enchiladas. LBJ requested Harry, and his enchiladas, anytime he was at his Johnson City Ranch, an hour or so from here.

So over the course of the past several years, Harry gave SAM numerous kitchen pointers. The most enduring and the most shared is baking the turkey with the breast facing downward in the pan. This way the juices from the dark meat marinate the breast.

.

This advice resonated for SAM. He cooked a turkey for the first time during his former marriage. His wife came home and started laughing because he put the turkey in the pan upside down, breast side down. They laughed even more when they tasted the result: They both swore it was juiciest turkey they had ever eaten.

Harry's second turkey pointer: never cook bread dressing inside the bird. It dries out the meat. In order to cook the turkey long enough to get the dressing cooked through, the meat is overcooked. Overcooked equals dry. So cook the bread dressing on the side in the stove.

Third pointer: Stuff the bird with fruit. Jenn at Juggling Life knows about this one, and a few more tips besides. In Harry's words, use anything you've got in your fruit bowl. SAM uses apples, oranges and onions. The fruit juice bastes the meat with the most refreshing flavor. SAM also uses Harry's suggestion of placing garlic cloves into the side of the turkey.

Juicy turkey with a tang of orange and garlic. Breast side down. Good stuff. Thanks, Harry, goddess rest your soul. And thanks to watershed for the turkey pic.

Oh, and here's my one pointer: Husband cooks the bird while wife blogs about it. Fabuloso!

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

where Biden shows he knows his corn

Sarah Palin may be an expert on babies, guns and Jesus but Joe Biden knows corn on the cob.

And if you are looking to be really ticked off with how the right wingers are hoping the Republican VP choice will play out, i.e., if you didn't get enough of the Hillary pillorizing during the primaries, check out the New Feminism Rush Limpballs is hawking. I mean, you gotta love it. Using a most blatant and hurtful form of sexism under the guise of promoting feminism.

toe fugh

How many of you have bought a package of tofu with the grand scheme of finding the recipe that will turn you onto this health food staple? That you, too, will become a card carrying member of the tofu nation?

A recipe that will produce something appetizing like this, for example:

.
.
Or this.

.
.



Where was this delicious looking dish when I was recipe hunting?

Instead of mouth watering, healthful morsels created in your happy kitchen, you find, months later, a yellowing, fuzzy, brick of brain matter dieing in your fridge.
.



Oh wait. That was a prepared meal.

This is the decaying glob of plant gelatin:


A new study suggests maybe it was our all knowing unconscious guiding us. It found that tofu in the diet is linked to dementia. Take (that) heed all you health food (nuts) lovers !

If you're like me, you won't care about the details of the research. When it comes to advising against foods like toefugh, headlines are all I care to read.

short note

I am away visiting the nation's capitol, the state of maryland's capitol, and now, my hometown, a little further north. At the moment I'm waiting for two carloads of my kids' cousins. Some haven't seen each other in two years. My sister is bringing her garden fresh bounty: corn on the cob, tomatoes, lima beans, and cantalope. Plus my sister in law is baking brownies. An elderly neighbor has generously volunteered her swimming pool. She has no idea what she is getting herself into.

I currently owe my internet connection to the fine technology of a state of the art toshiba laptop plus dial up modem. V.....e.....r......r......y.........S.....l......o........w. I'm wanting to check in on my favorite blog sites but it seems to average five minutes per round trip. So I'm giving notice that I will not be stopping by as often as I'd like. Instead I'll just have to make due with the some of the best company I can ask for while munching on some of the best produce the garden state has to offer.

signs of old times

We visited my in-laws over the weekend. Whenever we get on the road headed in that direction, I start to think about my all-time-favorite hamburger joint, The Chicken Oil Company, located just up the road from Texas A&M University campus.

It was a gas station originally. Little by little, over a period of 40 years, sections and levels were added, all in keeping with the original "architecture" that would be officially known as as "old shack."

.....................Above the ordering counter, you can see the original exterior
........................shed roof that used to surround the old gas station.

These days it looks like it has served as a restaurant forever. Hundredss of authentic, rusty metal motor oil and gasoline signs dating back to the 1940's and 50's: Magnolia, Kendall, Havoline, Sinclair. Many, like this Mobil sign, located directly above a row of old leather saddles, seem to say don't get too comfortable. Your mode of transportation will become obsolete. With gas prices as they are, I sure hope so.

.

.

A taxidermist's dream, this place, with antlers and game mounted up high everywhere you look. Deer, elk, moose, buffalo, havalina, bob cats, jackalopes, raccoons, possums. They all look down, baptizing your meal with their silent gaze. I imagine they're thinking, if they have to end up stuffed on somebody's wall, "Chicken Oil" is a great place to hang.

And beer signs. Lots of beer signs.

License plates from all over the country are tacked up in a line on one wall, my favorite being the out of state glamour plates donning "Aggie," donated no doubt by some South Carolinian or Georgian who reluctantly surrendered their most public claim to their home state.

Then there's the beer can shelf housing every brand of beer can known to Texas, domestic and international. Or at least, every brand that can fit on the 20 x 8 feet of space allotted. In true Texas style, not too many international labels.

The tables, every last one of them, are covered in hand carvings: the traditional initials and sentimental "I heart Katies." But also state names such as MICHIGAN, first and last names in full. It's all sanctioned, encouraged in fact, by the owners. Each of my kids have their initials on a table, somewhere in the place. I can't remember which table, exactly.




We sat after our meal looking around while the kids played video games, digesting our lunch (thinking I could eat another burger!) and taking in the rustic details. SAM kept saying, "everytime I come here I see something different."

But when it comes to ordering, SAM and I always get the same thing: a burger and fries. Delivered in one of those cheap, colorful plastic baskets, lined with paper.





For my burger: mustard and pickles only. This time, however, I ordered mine a little different. Quite possibly a sign that I've finally and officially shed my northeast palate and exchanged it for true Texican: mustard, pickles and japs. Jalapeno peppers, that is. Lots of 'em. You're looking at SAM's burger, above, by the way. No lettuce and tomato on mine, thanks.

Here's a burger, below, (courtesy google) loaded with japs.

I wondered as I sat there looking around, why I like this beat up, dive of a burger joint so much. What is it about looking at all the old, in some cases forgotten memorabilia that I find so appealing? It shows that time is noone's friend, afterall. It shows us that in two generations, that which we know changes and disappears from the landscape. Not so pleasant to think about.

Maybe the answer has exactly to do with the rapidly changing times we live in. That it's comforting to be in the presence of familliar momentos, to surround ourselves with a roadmap of where we've been since we can't see the road to where we're going. Or maybe its the old memories these sights conjure up. Takes us back to simpler times. The Kendall motor oil sign, for example, reminds me of the auto parts store in my neighborhood when I was four years old. Big and round, it hung, suspended on a metal arch.

My older brother and I would walk down to the auto parts store, pennies in hand to put in the gumball machine. Nothing beat the clink of the coin, the turn of the metal dial, the anticipation, waiting to see which color would be delivered into our waiting hands, fingers curled just so to catch it, steady eye on that little trap door.

Or, maybe the answer has to do with the burgers. Plain and simple. Damn good burgers.