Page One Hundred-One.
I always thought that the only part of broccoli which was good to eat was the flower. So I would always trim my broccoli to within an inch of its life prior to cooking and then toss most of what I'd purchased in the garbage can. A few years ago, I was corrected.
I was helping build the Coliseum in Rome one day and was having my traditional lunch of two Big Macs, an extra large order of fries, two hot apple pies for dessert and a diet Coke. I noticed some of my co-workers eating what appeared to be broccoli stalks. I recognized these co-workers in passing as they were all six original members of Pink Floyd: Roger Waters, David Gilmour, Syd Barrett, Henry Mancini, Richard Wright and Nick Mason. They were all sitting together and joking around, even Syd, who appeared to be somewhat stable. I approached them and introduced myself. We hadn't really met prior because we were working on different elements of the building and we'd been placed there by differing contractors. They were welders, I was electrical. But I was so stunned by the sight of these Earthlings eating broccoli stalks that I just had to investigate. They were shocked that I didn't eat the stalk as they thought the stalk was practically the sweetest and most flavorful part of the entire plant. They offered me a sample and I had to agree. I asked them how to prepare stalks properly. Henry Mancini spoke right up:
"The only real trick is to peel it prior to cooking as the skin is yucky. Use a potato peeler for this project. But once you get the tough skin out of there, just cook as normal. The stalk will take longer than the flower by a couple of minutes. So it's best to cut the stalk off right near the flower and cook it longer. If you leave the flower on the stalk and cook the entire spear together, by the time the stalk is done the flower will be mush. An average stalk might take a total of six or seven minutes or so to boil up, while the flower might be done in four or so, depending upon size. That's it."
Then Syd Barrett weighed in:
"Make sure to use plenty of water and also heavily salt it to retain the beautiful green color. So just toss the stalk into the boiling water, set the timer for about three or four minutes then toss in the flowers. Then set the timer for another three minutes or so. Let them all cook together. Once everything is fork tender, they're done. They'll be great."
So, that's it. I've been cooking and eating stalks ever since and golly gosh gee are they good or what?
Friday, June 28, 2013
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Ode To Cherries
Page One Hundred-One.
It's cherry season. I'm categorically not a fan of summer or warm/hot weather, but cherries make it all worthwhile. When I'm dead, I'll be sad because that means that I won't be able to eat cherries anymore.
My two favorite foods in this world are pepperoni pizza and fresh cherries, sad but true. (I'm a kid at heart. Guess why I'm so good at interacting with and caring for young people?) So, quite frequently during cherry season, I'll have pepperoni pizza with a nice salad for dinner and then for dessert I'll have a bowl of cherries.
In fact, maybe that's what I'll have tonight for dinner. I think I'll make myself a deep dish pepp pizza. Yessiree Bob. That's sounds just right. I'll go to Alesci's Italian grocery store (one of our local fantastic Italian grocery stores) and pick up the sauce, cheese, pepp and dough. I don't make my own dough. Why bother when I can buy it freshly made at Alesci's for thirty-five cents? Then I'll bring the whole mess home and assemble.
I'll break out my twelve inch cast iron skillet, grease it, dust it with corn meal, then put the dough in and spread. Then, I'll pour on the sauce, toss on the cheese, lovingly place the pepp and bake at 425 for about fifteen minutes or so. Yum, yum, yum. It'll be too good for words.
If he plays his cards right, perhaps I'll make the new kid, Shem, some of my deep dish pizza sometime. Not tomorrow, though. He likes lasagne, so I'll make him that. And, because it's virtually impossible to make lasagne for one, I'll make a normal amount and then I'm going to join him and we'll sit at the dining room table and eat dinner together like civilized people. We planned it yesterday. He also likes Moose Tracks ice cream... okay fine, twist my arm.
It's cherry season. I'm categorically not a fan of summer or warm/hot weather, but cherries make it all worthwhile. When I'm dead, I'll be sad because that means that I won't be able to eat cherries anymore.
My two favorite foods in this world are pepperoni pizza and fresh cherries, sad but true. (I'm a kid at heart. Guess why I'm so good at interacting with and caring for young people?) So, quite frequently during cherry season, I'll have pepperoni pizza with a nice salad for dinner and then for dessert I'll have a bowl of cherries.
In fact, maybe that's what I'll have tonight for dinner. I think I'll make myself a deep dish pepp pizza. Yessiree Bob. That's sounds just right. I'll go to Alesci's Italian grocery store (one of our local fantastic Italian grocery stores) and pick up the sauce, cheese, pepp and dough. I don't make my own dough. Why bother when I can buy it freshly made at Alesci's for thirty-five cents? Then I'll bring the whole mess home and assemble.
I'll break out my twelve inch cast iron skillet, grease it, dust it with corn meal, then put the dough in and spread. Then, I'll pour on the sauce, toss on the cheese, lovingly place the pepp and bake at 425 for about fifteen minutes or so. Yum, yum, yum. It'll be too good for words.
If he plays his cards right, perhaps I'll make the new kid, Shem, some of my deep dish pizza sometime. Not tomorrow, though. He likes lasagne, so I'll make him that. And, because it's virtually impossible to make lasagne for one, I'll make a normal amount and then I'm going to join him and we'll sit at the dining room table and eat dinner together like civilized people. We planned it yesterday. He also likes Moose Tracks ice cream... okay fine, twist my arm.
Monday, June 24, 2013
The Cleveland Museum Of Art's Summer Solstice Party
Page One Hundred.
Today's blog has nothing to do with food or children. It has nothing to do with the new kid whom I'm working with. It really has nothing to do with anything except for a party I went to last night.
As I've mentioned in the past, I live in Cleveland, Ohio, Cleveland Heights, an old, gracious, inner-ring suburb, to be exact. I've talked about how Cleveland is substantially larger than most people realize. And I've talked about the unusually broad ethnic communities who live here and serve food here. I've also implied that there's great wealth here. Well, I'm not going to imply great wealth in today's blog.
By the mid-19th century, Cleveland had so many rich people it was crazy. John D. Rocky lived here for much of his life. (His summer home was just about a mile from where I live. But, it burned down prior to World War I, I think. Also, John is buried about one half mile from my apartment. His grave is right next to President Garfield's.) And many, many other super rich folk lived here and built their homes on Euclid Avenue, one of our major thoroughfares. After the Civil War and before the turn of the 20th century, Euclid Avenue was considered by many international travelers to be the most beautiful road in the world, outside of Paris. Though only two of those homes still exist today, the legacies of most of those families still exist heavily in Northeast Ohio, read: financial endowments. Our arts and cultural institutions are so wealthy you simply wouldn't believe it.
The Cleveland Museum of Art is just finishing up a near decade-long expansion. Literally. Imagine a museum expansion that's taken nearly ten years to complete. The entire Freedom Tower in Manhattan will take less than that from start to finish. The museum was established in 1913 with the original building being completed in 1916. It added on in the late fifties, then again in the early seventies. And it was large in the first place. So, in the late nineties, they decided that they couldn't leave well enough alone and decided to add on again. But this time they wouldn't just add a little shack onto the back. Oh, no, no, no. They decided to tear down the '50's addition, add a three tier attached parking structure, add two additions that, kind of, mimicked the '70's addition creating a, sort of, square building with a courtyard in the middle, then cover that courtyard with glass thereby creating the largest public atrium in Ohio. This atrium is one acre large and surrounded on four sides by galleries. So essentially, it's a football stadium with art where seats ought to be. Cost: almost 400 million. But, thankfully, our museum is one of the most heavily endowed art museums in America, so they can afford it, thank you very much. International architectural critics are hailing it a gem and a masterpiece, rivaled only by the art inside. It really is stunning. This is also the most lavish arts and cultural project in Ohio's history.
They shut the entire building down in '05, to begin the project and the museum was completely closed for about three years, slowly reopening little pieces, parts, corners, nooks and crannies starting in 2008. The last section, yet to open, will be the large Chinese galleries, around Christmas of this year.
In 2009, they held a party on June 21st to celebrate the opening of various galleries that season. (Perhaps they were opening the American contemporary art galleries? I can't remember.) That party got five thousand attendees so they decided to make it an annual affair. Last night was the fifth Summer Solstice Party and it's considered one of Cleveland's hippest parties. They fly in various dj's from around the world. Those dj's spin in this location or that. Then, they have live world music playing on this stage or that. So there's music and dancing and drinking and merriment and art galleries until 1AM. All in all, it's a pretty wild night and people really look forward to it. They sell out every year (fast) and I won't be surprised if they decide to sell closer to seven or eight thousand tickets next year. Lord knows, they have the space. Apparently, some upper echelon people at the museum are already fighting to make the party larger.
Last night was my third year volunteering at the Museum Solstice Party. Oy!!! Actually, it wasn't too bad. Years two and three, I conducted surveys and entered people in raffles. Last night, I worked the will call table. People really were well-behaved and pleasant. There were just soooooo many of them. It was a mad house, but then, it is every year. So I do know what to expect. It really is very fun.
Always, on the Sunday after the Solstice Party, the museum is barely open. It opens late and some of the extra services don't open at all: the restaurant, store and certain high maintenance galleries. This is because the entire staff is there until 2AM the night before, working the party. But instead, right now, and for the next couple of days, the museum's completely closed 'cause they're filming the next Captain America movie in the atrium. Just as well, those guards need the sleep.
Today's blog has nothing to do with food or children. It has nothing to do with the new kid whom I'm working with. It really has nothing to do with anything except for a party I went to last night.
As I've mentioned in the past, I live in Cleveland, Ohio, Cleveland Heights, an old, gracious, inner-ring suburb, to be exact. I've talked about how Cleveland is substantially larger than most people realize. And I've talked about the unusually broad ethnic communities who live here and serve food here. I've also implied that there's great wealth here. Well, I'm not going to imply great wealth in today's blog.
By the mid-19th century, Cleveland had so many rich people it was crazy. John D. Rocky lived here for much of his life. (His summer home was just about a mile from where I live. But, it burned down prior to World War I, I think. Also, John is buried about one half mile from my apartment. His grave is right next to President Garfield's.) And many, many other super rich folk lived here and built their homes on Euclid Avenue, one of our major thoroughfares. After the Civil War and before the turn of the 20th century, Euclid Avenue was considered by many international travelers to be the most beautiful road in the world, outside of Paris. Though only two of those homes still exist today, the legacies of most of those families still exist heavily in Northeast Ohio, read: financial endowments. Our arts and cultural institutions are so wealthy you simply wouldn't believe it.
The Cleveland Museum of Art is just finishing up a near decade-long expansion. Literally. Imagine a museum expansion that's taken nearly ten years to complete. The entire Freedom Tower in Manhattan will take less than that from start to finish. The museum was established in 1913 with the original building being completed in 1916. It added on in the late fifties, then again in the early seventies. And it was large in the first place. So, in the late nineties, they decided that they couldn't leave well enough alone and decided to add on again. But this time they wouldn't just add a little shack onto the back. Oh, no, no, no. They decided to tear down the '50's addition, add a three tier attached parking structure, add two additions that, kind of, mimicked the '70's addition creating a, sort of, square building with a courtyard in the middle, then cover that courtyard with glass thereby creating the largest public atrium in Ohio. This atrium is one acre large and surrounded on four sides by galleries. So essentially, it's a football stadium with art where seats ought to be. Cost: almost 400 million. But, thankfully, our museum is one of the most heavily endowed art museums in America, so they can afford it, thank you very much. International architectural critics are hailing it a gem and a masterpiece, rivaled only by the art inside. It really is stunning. This is also the most lavish arts and cultural project in Ohio's history.
They shut the entire building down in '05, to begin the project and the museum was completely closed for about three years, slowly reopening little pieces, parts, corners, nooks and crannies starting in 2008. The last section, yet to open, will be the large Chinese galleries, around Christmas of this year.
In 2009, they held a party on June 21st to celebrate the opening of various galleries that season. (Perhaps they were opening the American contemporary art galleries? I can't remember.) That party got five thousand attendees so they decided to make it an annual affair. Last night was the fifth Summer Solstice Party and it's considered one of Cleveland's hippest parties. They fly in various dj's from around the world. Those dj's spin in this location or that. Then, they have live world music playing on this stage or that. So there's music and dancing and drinking and merriment and art galleries until 1AM. All in all, it's a pretty wild night and people really look forward to it. They sell out every year (fast) and I won't be surprised if they decide to sell closer to seven or eight thousand tickets next year. Lord knows, they have the space. Apparently, some upper echelon people at the museum are already fighting to make the party larger.
Last night was my third year volunteering at the Museum Solstice Party. Oy!!! Actually, it wasn't too bad. Years two and three, I conducted surveys and entered people in raffles. Last night, I worked the will call table. People really were well-behaved and pleasant. There were just soooooo many of them. It was a mad house, but then, it is every year. So I do know what to expect. It really is very fun.
Always, on the Sunday after the Solstice Party, the museum is barely open. It opens late and some of the extra services don't open at all: the restaurant, store and certain high maintenance galleries. This is because the entire staff is there until 2AM the night before, working the party. But instead, right now, and for the next couple of days, the museum's completely closed 'cause they're filming the next Captain America movie in the atrium. Just as well, those guards need the sleep.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Cooking For A Fifteen Year Old - Part Three
Page Ninety-Nine.
Well, the kid, Shem, has begun to warm up to me. Yesterday when I was over cooking, he started out by mostly ignoring me. But by the time dinner was ready and he was eating, he was really quite talkative.We carried on about this and that, computer games and other incredibly important matters for, perhaps, half an hour. Turns out the kid's a champion gamer. He's won tournaments and so forth. While talking, he was very animated; he smiled and laughed occasionally. It was really a very nice chat. He's quite personable and warm after all. Who knew?
He was also particularly nice to his guardian, my friend Deb, last evening. He asked her how her day was. He hasn't done that in months; she was shocked. So, she subsequently phoned me this morning and asked me to add another day per week. I'll add Fridays. At this rate, I won't be surprised if we somehow figure out a way to keep me on board after the kid gets back from summer camp and moves in with his brother. In a situation like this, when you find a puzzle piece which apparently works, you don''t remove it. That's just my gut feeling. We'll see.
This Friday, I'll make him Beef Stroganoff for dinner and a turkey, lettuce and tomato for Saturday lunch. I really hope he makes it in life.
Well, the kid, Shem, has begun to warm up to me. Yesterday when I was over cooking, he started out by mostly ignoring me. But by the time dinner was ready and he was eating, he was really quite talkative.We carried on about this and that, computer games and other incredibly important matters for, perhaps, half an hour. Turns out the kid's a champion gamer. He's won tournaments and so forth. While talking, he was very animated; he smiled and laughed occasionally. It was really a very nice chat. He's quite personable and warm after all. Who knew?
He was also particularly nice to his guardian, my friend Deb, last evening. He asked her how her day was. He hasn't done that in months; she was shocked. So, she subsequently phoned me this morning and asked me to add another day per week. I'll add Fridays. At this rate, I won't be surprised if we somehow figure out a way to keep me on board after the kid gets back from summer camp and moves in with his brother. In a situation like this, when you find a puzzle piece which apparently works, you don''t remove it. That's just my gut feeling. We'll see.
This Friday, I'll make him Beef Stroganoff for dinner and a turkey, lettuce and tomato for Saturday lunch. I really hope he makes it in life.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Cooking For A Fifteen Year Old Boy - Part Two
Page Ninety-Eight.
Just an update...
I think this job cooking for the fifteen year old kid will be very temporary. (See page ninety-seven for the full story.) He's extraordinarily angry and takes everything he has out on his guardian, my friend Deb. This includes the food. So, even if he tells her that he wants Chipotle for dinner, when she brings him some, he'll throw it out. Literally. So, I'm in a loose-loose situation. Thankfully, he didn't take any of his anger out on me yesterday, and did actually eat some of the dinner I made him (steak, mashed potatoes, broccoli, salad, bread/butter.) He was also somewhat gracious to me. But he certainly expressed no interest in spending time in the kitchen learning how to cook.
He's going away to summer camp in four weeks. So we'll see if my job lasts that long. When he gets back, he's going to move in with his big brother who's their next door neighbor. Deb told me that his brother won't take any of his attitude at all and that the kid has no idea what he's in for. Deb is also going to sign over custody to the brother. I told her that when the kid wakes up in six years, he'll realize all she's done for him, as most twenty-one year olds do. She told me that she understands that. But in the meantime, he's bringing her to tears, daily, with his words and attitude. She was crying when I left yesterday.
With all my nanny experience, I have first hand knowledge of the fact that typical fifteen year olds are little monsters. Combine that normal teen phase with what this kid has gone through and you end up with one horribly unhappy child. I hope and pray that he recuperates from all he's been through and is able to live a satisfying life.
Just an update...
I think this job cooking for the fifteen year old kid will be very temporary. (See page ninety-seven for the full story.) He's extraordinarily angry and takes everything he has out on his guardian, my friend Deb. This includes the food. So, even if he tells her that he wants Chipotle for dinner, when she brings him some, he'll throw it out. Literally. So, I'm in a loose-loose situation. Thankfully, he didn't take any of his anger out on me yesterday, and did actually eat some of the dinner I made him (steak, mashed potatoes, broccoli, salad, bread/butter.) He was also somewhat gracious to me. But he certainly expressed no interest in spending time in the kitchen learning how to cook.
He's going away to summer camp in four weeks. So we'll see if my job lasts that long. When he gets back, he's going to move in with his big brother who's their next door neighbor. Deb told me that his brother won't take any of his attitude at all and that the kid has no idea what he's in for. Deb is also going to sign over custody to the brother. I told her that when the kid wakes up in six years, he'll realize all she's done for him, as most twenty-one year olds do. She told me that she understands that. But in the meantime, he's bringing her to tears, daily, with his words and attitude. She was crying when I left yesterday.
With all my nanny experience, I have first hand knowledge of the fact that typical fifteen year olds are little monsters. Combine that normal teen phase with what this kid has gone through and you end up with one horribly unhappy child. I hope and pray that he recuperates from all he's been through and is able to live a satisfying life.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Teaching A Kid To Cook
Page Ninety-Seven.
Well, that was fast. Last week I mentioned that my job with the boys had ended for the summer. I wrote that I figured something would come along. It probably has and I start today.
A long time acquaintance approached me about helping her with an interesting situation. Okay... follow me closely here.
My acquaintance's name is Deb. Some years ago, she befriended a woman named Gretchen. Gretchen had some VERY serious issues with drugs and alcohol but when she was clean she was quite pleasant and charming. They gradually became close to the point that Deb saw Gretchen as the daughter she never had. (Deb is a single, former hippie.) Over the years Gretchen had three sons with, I think, the same man. Those sons today are 21, 19 and 15.
Gretchen was never able to stay clean for very long, but she could occasionally stay sober for a year or two. She and her sons moved in with Deb five or six or seven years ago. Two years ago the father died of an overdose. Shortly thereafter, Gretchen started using again. At that point, Deb told Gretchen that she should sign her youngest over to her because Deb didn't want him to end up in the state foster system when the inevitable happened. Gretchen did sign over guardianship to Deb sometime in 2011 I think. Gretchen then died of an overdose one year ago, spring of 2012.
Today, the oldest is a mess, in and out of jail; he has no interest in living a clean life. The middle is extremely responsible. He has a stable job at Bob Evans and is a strong student at Cleveland State University studying pre-law. He also lives next door to Deb. The youngest, Shem, lives with Deb and is as angry as you can imagine.
Both Gretchen and the dad were Jewish and Judaism is huge on welfare. One of the local Orthodox Jewish day schools knows of the situation and is giving Shem free tuition until he graduates, $18,000 per year, even though nobody was Orthodox. That's just the way Jewish communities operate. This person talks to this person who talks to this person. Then organizations find out about conditions and before you know it, scholarships are established even though there may just be a peripheral association. (Deb is an office manager. She makes enough to support two but not enough to pay for private school.) Thankfully, Shem enjoys school very much.
But, Shem takes much of his anger out on Deb, which is natural and Deb knows it. Of the many superficial, sticking points, is food. Of all the things this kid has to be angry about, food is absorbing much of his energy. (Of course, it's just an excuse to lash out.) Deb's never had to learn how to cook and she's vegetarian. So Shem carries on about how she's trying to starve him. Deb has spent a fortune on carry-out over the last year and Shem won't touch it. He keeps talking about learning to cook but he won't say what he wants to learn to cook. He challenges Deb to read his mind, basically. That's where I come in.
At first I was contacted to see about delivering ready-made meals. Then the plan changed and now Deb is thinking that because I'm a stranger, then perhaps Shem will communicate with me and allow me to teach him how to cook. Deb admitted that she really should have taken care of this issue a year ago. But the fact is, she's been mourning the loss of her very dear friend, besides having to raise this deeply troubled boy. So, in one hour I'm supposed to go shopping with Deb and begin my little summer escapade.
Wish me luck. The fact is, I really do have experience working with troubled youth, though I prefer normal, difficult, obnoxious teenagers with no real excuses to ones with actual problems. Of course, I'm walking into this with hopes that I can help. We'll see. At the very least, it'll keep him occupied a few hours per week.
Well, that was fast. Last week I mentioned that my job with the boys had ended for the summer. I wrote that I figured something would come along. It probably has and I start today.
A long time acquaintance approached me about helping her with an interesting situation. Okay... follow me closely here.
My acquaintance's name is Deb. Some years ago, she befriended a woman named Gretchen. Gretchen had some VERY serious issues with drugs and alcohol but when she was clean she was quite pleasant and charming. They gradually became close to the point that Deb saw Gretchen as the daughter she never had. (Deb is a single, former hippie.) Over the years Gretchen had three sons with, I think, the same man. Those sons today are 21, 19 and 15.
Gretchen was never able to stay clean for very long, but she could occasionally stay sober for a year or two. She and her sons moved in with Deb five or six or seven years ago. Two years ago the father died of an overdose. Shortly thereafter, Gretchen started using again. At that point, Deb told Gretchen that she should sign her youngest over to her because Deb didn't want him to end up in the state foster system when the inevitable happened. Gretchen did sign over guardianship to Deb sometime in 2011 I think. Gretchen then died of an overdose one year ago, spring of 2012.
Today, the oldest is a mess, in and out of jail; he has no interest in living a clean life. The middle is extremely responsible. He has a stable job at Bob Evans and is a strong student at Cleveland State University studying pre-law. He also lives next door to Deb. The youngest, Shem, lives with Deb and is as angry as you can imagine.
Both Gretchen and the dad were Jewish and Judaism is huge on welfare. One of the local Orthodox Jewish day schools knows of the situation and is giving Shem free tuition until he graduates, $18,000 per year, even though nobody was Orthodox. That's just the way Jewish communities operate. This person talks to this person who talks to this person. Then organizations find out about conditions and before you know it, scholarships are established even though there may just be a peripheral association. (Deb is an office manager. She makes enough to support two but not enough to pay for private school.) Thankfully, Shem enjoys school very much.
But, Shem takes much of his anger out on Deb, which is natural and Deb knows it. Of the many superficial, sticking points, is food. Of all the things this kid has to be angry about, food is absorbing much of his energy. (Of course, it's just an excuse to lash out.) Deb's never had to learn how to cook and she's vegetarian. So Shem carries on about how she's trying to starve him. Deb has spent a fortune on carry-out over the last year and Shem won't touch it. He keeps talking about learning to cook but he won't say what he wants to learn to cook. He challenges Deb to read his mind, basically. That's where I come in.
At first I was contacted to see about delivering ready-made meals. Then the plan changed and now Deb is thinking that because I'm a stranger, then perhaps Shem will communicate with me and allow me to teach him how to cook. Deb admitted that she really should have taken care of this issue a year ago. But the fact is, she's been mourning the loss of her very dear friend, besides having to raise this deeply troubled boy. So, in one hour I'm supposed to go shopping with Deb and begin my little summer escapade.
Wish me luck. The fact is, I really do have experience working with troubled youth, though I prefer normal, difficult, obnoxious teenagers with no real excuses to ones with actual problems. Of course, I'm walking into this with hopes that I can help. We'll see. At the very least, it'll keep him occupied a few hours per week.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Kid-Friendly Rum Cake
Page Ninety-Six.
Today's the last day of school and to celebrate, I'm making a Jamaican dinner including jerk chicken and rum cake. It's amazing how difficult it was to find a kid friendly version of rum cake. In the end, I had to mix and match recipes and, sort of, create a new one. Here it is:
1 cup coarsely crushed walnuts (or pecans)
*******************
1 standard-sized box yellow cake mix
1 standard-sized box instant vanilla pudding
1 cup milk
1/2 cup oil
4 eggs
2 Tablespoons rum flavoring
********************
1 stick butter
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup water
1 teaspoon rum flavoring
1 teaspoon vanilla
Preheat oven to 350 F. Grease and flour a bundt pan. Pour coarsely crushed nuts into pan, all around. Beat all cake batter ingredients until smooth, a few minutes. Pour into pan and cook about one hour, until toothpick comes out clean. Remove from oven and let cool about ten minutes, invert onto platter and let cool an hour or longer.
While cake cools, prepare glaze. Put butter, water and sugar in small saucepan and heat to boiling, stirring constantly. Let boil over medium-high heat a few minutes, then mix in rum and vanilla. Pour hot glaze into bundt pan and put cake back in to soak up glaze. Leave it in for a while, perhaps thirty minutes or so, then invert back onto platter, cover with cake cover, and refrigerate overnight. Enjoy the next day. A very scrumpdelicious cake for a special, or not, occasion.
Today's the last day of school and to celebrate, I'm making a Jamaican dinner including jerk chicken and rum cake. It's amazing how difficult it was to find a kid friendly version of rum cake. In the end, I had to mix and match recipes and, sort of, create a new one. Here it is:
1 cup coarsely crushed walnuts (or pecans)
*******************
1 standard-sized box yellow cake mix
1 standard-sized box instant vanilla pudding
1 cup milk
1/2 cup oil
4 eggs
2 Tablespoons rum flavoring
********************
1 stick butter
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup water
1 teaspoon rum flavoring
1 teaspoon vanilla
Preheat oven to 350 F. Grease and flour a bundt pan. Pour coarsely crushed nuts into pan, all around. Beat all cake batter ingredients until smooth, a few minutes. Pour into pan and cook about one hour, until toothpick comes out clean. Remove from oven and let cool about ten minutes, invert onto platter and let cool an hour or longer.
While cake cools, prepare glaze. Put butter, water and sugar in small saucepan and heat to boiling, stirring constantly. Let boil over medium-high heat a few minutes, then mix in rum and vanilla. Pour hot glaze into bundt pan and put cake back in to soak up glaze. Leave it in for a while, perhaps thirty minutes or so, then invert back onto platter, cover with cake cover, and refrigerate overnight. Enjoy the next day. A very scrumpdelicious cake for a special, or not, occasion.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
A Most Memorable Baby-Sitter
Page Ninety-Five.
A thousand years ago, while a live-in nanny to three adolescent boys, I was in a situation which required me to hire a baby-sitter. You'd figure that with me around no baby-sitter would be necessary, as that was my job. But... well... here's the story.
It must've been around '87 or so. I had plans to do something special on the Saturday night in question, but I don't remember what. The boys' parents also had plans and son #1 was going to be sleeping over at a friend's home. That would leave the twelve year old twins, Scoot and Skedaddle, home alone for the evening. We were stuck. Parents didn't mind paying a sitter, but they explained that one reason they had me move in was so they wouldn't have to go through the hassle of trying to find somebody when needed. So, I went through the process. I had one person in mind, my buddy Chester.
Chester was sixteen at the time. I knew him through some younger acquaintances and he was exceedingly charming. He was a moderate student, rather popular and always had some pretty girl on his arm. He was, incidentally, incredibly handsome and I would eventually use him as a model when I was in charge of finding guys to model prom tuxedos on a local, morning TV talk show (separate story). I also knew that he liked kids a lot and he'd done much sitting in the past. However, his daily appearance was quite questionable.
This was the '80's and Chester was in the middle of it. While the Shapiro family was very used to my New Wave/Punk shenanigans (think: blue Mohawk), they were a bit alarmed when Ches walked in. He made Guns 'n Roses look like a bunch of Wall Street preppies. Ches had the big hair, leather jacket, bandanna and all other trappings of the typical 80's hair-metal aficionado. You really would've considered crossing the street if you'd seen him coming toward you. But I knew that Scoot and Skedaddle would find him effervescent and entertaining.
And they did. They had a wonderful time that night according to all parties involved. I also heard through the grapevine that the reason Lena Shapiro wasn't concerned at all was because she knew how much I adored her sons. Apparently, she figured that I wouldn't endanger her children, so she chose to trust my better judgement.
A couple of months later, I was hanging out with Ches one afternoon and he needed to go to the library and get a book. While there, we happened to see Scoot and Skedaddle studying. We went over and surprised them. They were all very happy to see each other. Later that day, back at home, the twins told me how shocked they were by the idea that Ches would actually "study" and "need to go to the library". I explained that Ches really wasn't a terrible student. They didn't completely believe me. But, oh, well.
They occasionally bring his name up. When we all get together, he's still sometimes a punchline. I think I did my job well. Actually, I was a great live-in nanny.
A thousand years ago, while a live-in nanny to three adolescent boys, I was in a situation which required me to hire a baby-sitter. You'd figure that with me around no baby-sitter would be necessary, as that was my job. But... well... here's the story.
It must've been around '87 or so. I had plans to do something special on the Saturday night in question, but I don't remember what. The boys' parents also had plans and son #1 was going to be sleeping over at a friend's home. That would leave the twelve year old twins, Scoot and Skedaddle, home alone for the evening. We were stuck. Parents didn't mind paying a sitter, but they explained that one reason they had me move in was so they wouldn't have to go through the hassle of trying to find somebody when needed. So, I went through the process. I had one person in mind, my buddy Chester.
Chester was sixteen at the time. I knew him through some younger acquaintances and he was exceedingly charming. He was a moderate student, rather popular and always had some pretty girl on his arm. He was, incidentally, incredibly handsome and I would eventually use him as a model when I was in charge of finding guys to model prom tuxedos on a local, morning TV talk show (separate story). I also knew that he liked kids a lot and he'd done much sitting in the past. However, his daily appearance was quite questionable.
This was the '80's and Chester was in the middle of it. While the Shapiro family was very used to my New Wave/Punk shenanigans (think: blue Mohawk), they were a bit alarmed when Ches walked in. He made Guns 'n Roses look like a bunch of Wall Street preppies. Ches had the big hair, leather jacket, bandanna and all other trappings of the typical 80's hair-metal aficionado. You really would've considered crossing the street if you'd seen him coming toward you. But I knew that Scoot and Skedaddle would find him effervescent and entertaining.
And they did. They had a wonderful time that night according to all parties involved. I also heard through the grapevine that the reason Lena Shapiro wasn't concerned at all was because she knew how much I adored her sons. Apparently, she figured that I wouldn't endanger her children, so she chose to trust my better judgement.
A couple of months later, I was hanging out with Ches one afternoon and he needed to go to the library and get a book. While there, we happened to see Scoot and Skedaddle studying. We went over and surprised them. They were all very happy to see each other. Later that day, back at home, the twins told me how shocked they were by the idea that Ches would actually "study" and "need to go to the library". I explained that Ches really wasn't a terrible student. They didn't completely believe me. But, oh, well.
They occasionally bring his name up. When we all get together, he's still sometimes a punchline. I think I did my job well. Actually, I was a great live-in nanny.
Monday, June 10, 2013
The Summer Lay-Off
Page Ninety-Four.
Next week is the last week of school for the Shaker Heights schools. So, that means that next week will be my last week nannying the boys until the end of August. Though this will be my third summer working for them, it'll be my first one with a summer lay-off.
For many years, the children, including the much older sister, went to a horsey day camp where they rode, swam, created arts & crafts and enjoyed other such summer camp activities. That camp was right on Lake Erie and had been owned by one family for a few generations with the current deed-holder a very old man whom everybody loved. Well, he died last winter and his children were fully intending on continuing the camp until they discovered that he'd taken out a reverse mortgage against it. I know nothing about reverse mortgages except for the fact that they don't have good reputations. In this case, the family lost the camp. And closer to home, the boys lost their beloved horseys.
According to Mom, the boys are "getting older" anyhow, so it's just as well. Only the youngest, Fauntleroy, (aged 9 come July) was still enamored with days filled with horseys. The other two, Zok (13) and Billy-Bob-Joe (11), were beginning to stir, what with more varied and mature interests. Subsequently, Mom and Dad have spent the last few months finding sleep-a-way camps for all three.
So, this boy will be going to this camp for this summer segment and that boy will be going to that camp for that summer segment and so forth. Plus the fact, the entire crew, except for Grandma, will be going to California for a couple of weeks in August, it only makes sense to lay Jeremy off for the summer.
I understand. They were kind enough to offer a modest unemployment compensation; I have my second part-time job as a beauty salon manager; and many, many people know me and they know that I'll be available for any odd jobs, so I'll be fine. But I'll miss the boys... mostly.
Fauntleroy has been really obnoxious lately and I think we need some time apart. He ADORES me, don't get me wrong. But he's going through a phase, and I'm sick of it. I've talked with Mom about it and she thinks I need to come down harder on him. Eight year-old boys are tough, though. They're walking a fine line between devoted little boys and independent young men. Therefore, I have chosen to give him a piece of my mind only a few times 'cause I don't want to run the risk of over-complaining. If I bitch too much then I loose credibility. So I pick and choose when I'm going to come down hard. There's something to the old saying, "pick your battles". I did tell Mom last week that he won't have me to "kick around" for ten weeks so I think he'll appreciate me more come next fall. And if he isn't less of a snot, well... I have ways of dealing with that too. Don't forget, I was a live-in nanny to three teen-aged boys for eight years. I have lots of tricks up my sleeve.
And this isn't to say that I won't see them at all this summer. I'm still preparing my cooking instructional videos and occasionally I film in their kitchen. I anticipate making a few new videos this summer so I'll probably run into the family occasionally, in their home. (I currently have twelve videos completed with two more in post-production. One of these days I'll start posting them to Youtube. Perhaps that might be a nice summer project.)
Next week is the last week of school for the Shaker Heights schools. So, that means that next week will be my last week nannying the boys until the end of August. Though this will be my third summer working for them, it'll be my first one with a summer lay-off.
For many years, the children, including the much older sister, went to a horsey day camp where they rode, swam, created arts & crafts and enjoyed other such summer camp activities. That camp was right on Lake Erie and had been owned by one family for a few generations with the current deed-holder a very old man whom everybody loved. Well, he died last winter and his children were fully intending on continuing the camp until they discovered that he'd taken out a reverse mortgage against it. I know nothing about reverse mortgages except for the fact that they don't have good reputations. In this case, the family lost the camp. And closer to home, the boys lost their beloved horseys.
According to Mom, the boys are "getting older" anyhow, so it's just as well. Only the youngest, Fauntleroy, (aged 9 come July) was still enamored with days filled with horseys. The other two, Zok (13) and Billy-Bob-Joe (11), were beginning to stir, what with more varied and mature interests. Subsequently, Mom and Dad have spent the last few months finding sleep-a-way camps for all three.
So, this boy will be going to this camp for this summer segment and that boy will be going to that camp for that summer segment and so forth. Plus the fact, the entire crew, except for Grandma, will be going to California for a couple of weeks in August, it only makes sense to lay Jeremy off for the summer.
I understand. They were kind enough to offer a modest unemployment compensation; I have my second part-time job as a beauty salon manager; and many, many people know me and they know that I'll be available for any odd jobs, so I'll be fine. But I'll miss the boys... mostly.
Fauntleroy has been really obnoxious lately and I think we need some time apart. He ADORES me, don't get me wrong. But he's going through a phase, and I'm sick of it. I've talked with Mom about it and she thinks I need to come down harder on him. Eight year-old boys are tough, though. They're walking a fine line between devoted little boys and independent young men. Therefore, I have chosen to give him a piece of my mind only a few times 'cause I don't want to run the risk of over-complaining. If I bitch too much then I loose credibility. So I pick and choose when I'm going to come down hard. There's something to the old saying, "pick your battles". I did tell Mom last week that he won't have me to "kick around" for ten weeks so I think he'll appreciate me more come next fall. And if he isn't less of a snot, well... I have ways of dealing with that too. Don't forget, I was a live-in nanny to three teen-aged boys for eight years. I have lots of tricks up my sleeve.
And this isn't to say that I won't see them at all this summer. I'm still preparing my cooking instructional videos and occasionally I film in their kitchen. I anticipate making a few new videos this summer so I'll probably run into the family occasionally, in their home. (I currently have twelve videos completed with two more in post-production. One of these days I'll start posting them to Youtube. Perhaps that might be a nice summer project.)
Friday, June 7, 2013
Frech Bread Pizzas
Page Ninety-Three.
I'll tell you what ALWAYS sells when trying to feed hungry teenaged boys. Fresh French Bread pizza. And they're just about the easiest things to make, too.
Go to your favorite bakery or grocery store and purchase a couple of fresh, full-sized loaves of French bread. Also, buy a couple of cans of your preferred pizza sauce, some mozzarella cheese and whatever toppings your kids like: pepperoni, sausage, onions, mushrooms, olives, what have you. Bring the whole mess home and put everything out on your counter.
Slice the loaves in half and the top half you'll have to level off. So, put the top half on the counter, crust side down and look to see what you'll have to carefully trim off so it sits evenly. Once that's done, just assemble everything as you like. If you go in for onions or sausage, you'll have to cook those things up. But that notwithstanding, put on the sauce, then cheese, then everything else. Place on a cookie sheet and then pop in the preheated 425 degree oven for about 13 minutes.* Viola! These things are so good it's just crazy. They're surprisingly economical, too.
There's a very famous brand of frozen French Bread Pizza. Those are perfectly okay for a teenaged boy... until he tastes the real thing. Be prepared, once he tastes the ones that you make fresh, he'll never go back to frozen. You'll have to make these things a lot. But his birthday gift to you will be bigger. He'll still be a bi-polar teenaged boy, but he'll occasionally be a little nicer to you, when he wants these things.
*Trick #1: Assemble pizzas on the cookie sheet so you don't have to move them around too much prior to baking.
Trick #2: Don't overload stuff on the bread. It'll just fall off. Use just a little of this and just a little of that. Don't worry, it'll add up.
I'll tell you what ALWAYS sells when trying to feed hungry teenaged boys. Fresh French Bread pizza. And they're just about the easiest things to make, too.
Go to your favorite bakery or grocery store and purchase a couple of fresh, full-sized loaves of French bread. Also, buy a couple of cans of your preferred pizza sauce, some mozzarella cheese and whatever toppings your kids like: pepperoni, sausage, onions, mushrooms, olives, what have you. Bring the whole mess home and put everything out on your counter.
Slice the loaves in half and the top half you'll have to level off. So, put the top half on the counter, crust side down and look to see what you'll have to carefully trim off so it sits evenly. Once that's done, just assemble everything as you like. If you go in for onions or sausage, you'll have to cook those things up. But that notwithstanding, put on the sauce, then cheese, then everything else. Place on a cookie sheet and then pop in the preheated 425 degree oven for about 13 minutes.* Viola! These things are so good it's just crazy. They're surprisingly economical, too.
There's a very famous brand of frozen French Bread Pizza. Those are perfectly okay for a teenaged boy... until he tastes the real thing. Be prepared, once he tastes the ones that you make fresh, he'll never go back to frozen. You'll have to make these things a lot. But his birthday gift to you will be bigger. He'll still be a bi-polar teenaged boy, but he'll occasionally be a little nicer to you, when he wants these things.
*Trick #1: Assemble pizzas on the cookie sheet so you don't have to move them around too much prior to baking.
Trick #2: Don't overload stuff on the bread. It'll just fall off. Use just a little of this and just a little of that. Don't worry, it'll add up.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
One Stinky Ice Cream Bar
Page Ninety-Two.
Question: What's more unhappy than biting into an ice cream bar only to discover that it stinks?
Answer: Nothing... absolutely nothing.
I recently purchased a new brand of ice cream bar. It was vanilla dipped in dark chocolate, my favorite. On the box it had all the key words: smooth, silky, vanilla-bean ice cream; rich, intense, velvety dark chocolate, and so on and so forth. I purchased this particular brand 'cause I knew it and trusted it. Also, it was a good price. (Hey... that always helps.) So, I brought it home and had one. It was a truly traumatic experience. I'm sure I haven't been so disappointed since the Beatles broke up.
The ice cream was lots of things but smooth and creamy weren't among them. It was icy and crunchy if you can believe that. I'd say that it had melted and then refrozen, but the shape was perfect. So you'd figure if it had melted it would have looked odd, but it didn't. The bar looked perfect, actually. Also, it still had a somewhat soft texture. I just don't know what the problem was. The chocolate was okay, I guess, but it wasn't as thick as I like. But, again, I trust the brand. Maybe somebody at the plant was just having an off day.
I'm going to take the rest of the box back and then purchase some Dove Bars. They're my favorite. Yum, yum, yum. Tasty.
Question: What's more unhappy than biting into an ice cream bar only to discover that it stinks?
Answer: Nothing... absolutely nothing.
I recently purchased a new brand of ice cream bar. It was vanilla dipped in dark chocolate, my favorite. On the box it had all the key words: smooth, silky, vanilla-bean ice cream; rich, intense, velvety dark chocolate, and so on and so forth. I purchased this particular brand 'cause I knew it and trusted it. Also, it was a good price. (Hey... that always helps.) So, I brought it home and had one. It was a truly traumatic experience. I'm sure I haven't been so disappointed since the Beatles broke up.
The ice cream was lots of things but smooth and creamy weren't among them. It was icy and crunchy if you can believe that. I'd say that it had melted and then refrozen, but the shape was perfect. So you'd figure if it had melted it would have looked odd, but it didn't. The bar looked perfect, actually. Also, it still had a somewhat soft texture. I just don't know what the problem was. The chocolate was okay, I guess, but it wasn't as thick as I like. But, again, I trust the brand. Maybe somebody at the plant was just having an off day.
I'm going to take the rest of the box back and then purchase some Dove Bars. They're my favorite. Yum, yum, yum. Tasty.
Monday, June 3, 2013
Mr. Hershey's Secret To Immoral Choco-Chip Cookies
Page Ninety-One.
It was a Tuesday afternoon in October and I was assisting my buddy, Romeo, as he was working on his newest invention: the computer. He was really frustrated. I was doing my best to try and keep him calm, but he was just off the charts with aggravation. (I wondered if this was how Bill Gates felt when he invented the disposable paper coffee cup?)
Just to backtrack, Romeo was a close high school friend of mine and he was dating another friend, Juliet. They got along great but their parents couldn't stand each other. (Romeo's mother, Halle Berry, was an astrophysicist. She didn't get along with Juliet's father, Theodore Roosevelt, who was a quantum physicist. They had altering theories as to how to figure out how many universes exist.) Subsequently, Romeo and Juliet had to have a clandestine affair.
Romeo and I had second period English class together and Juliet and I shared eighth period Life Skills class, so they would tell me what was going on. They also asked me to transmit messages to each other as their parents were monitoring their texts. (If they were even seen talking with each other, it would get back to their parents.) I didn't love being in the middle, but that's what happens sometimes. I really liked both of them, too.
So anyhow, Romeo fancied himself an inventor. I was over his house assisting while he was working on his newest invention: this "computer" thing. I wasn't even sure what it was, but I knew that if Romeo was inventing it, it must be good. And he was just talking non-stop about Juliet. I warned him that he'd better be careful what he said in the house because, of course, walls have ears.
All of a sudden, his father, Milton Hershey, walked in. I though for sure he'd heard us talking about Juliet but he acted normal. The reason that he'd come in was because he'd just made a batch of choco-chip cookies. I was hardly going to stop myself from gorging on choco-chip cookies made by Milton Hershey himself so I just inhaled those things. And they were beyond good. They were downright immoral.
I asked Mr. Hershey what made them so good and he told me his primary secret was adding some almond extract. He added the same amount of almond extract as vanilla. He had a few other secrets too, which I'll share another time because they're complicated. But adding that little bit of almond is sooooo easy and sooooo good! I've never forgotten any of his other tricks either.
A minute after leaving he came back in and told us that he'd heard us talking about Juliet. He said that he wouldn't tell Halle, but that if Romeo knew what was good for him, he'd better be careful. Mr. Hershey really was very understanding. Also, I think another reason he didn't care too much was because the family feud was primarily between his wife and Juliet's father. And, I later found out that Milton and Halle were having serious problems anyhow which would lead to a divorce when Romeo was in college (University of Hawaii). So he truly didn't care if his wife was double crossed anyhow.
Incidentally, Romeo never completely got his computer working. He eventually gave up and put his energies into learning how to paint. It paid off - he ended up painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. And, as it turned out, he and Juliet eventually broke up. What do you expect from a couple of teenagers? He got over his parents divorce quickly too. He'd been seeing it coming for years. He told me that he'd wondered why it hadn't occurred earlier.
It was a Tuesday afternoon in October and I was assisting my buddy, Romeo, as he was working on his newest invention: the computer. He was really frustrated. I was doing my best to try and keep him calm, but he was just off the charts with aggravation. (I wondered if this was how Bill Gates felt when he invented the disposable paper coffee cup?)
Just to backtrack, Romeo was a close high school friend of mine and he was dating another friend, Juliet. They got along great but their parents couldn't stand each other. (Romeo's mother, Halle Berry, was an astrophysicist. She didn't get along with Juliet's father, Theodore Roosevelt, who was a quantum physicist. They had altering theories as to how to figure out how many universes exist.) Subsequently, Romeo and Juliet had to have a clandestine affair.
Romeo and I had second period English class together and Juliet and I shared eighth period Life Skills class, so they would tell me what was going on. They also asked me to transmit messages to each other as their parents were monitoring their texts. (If they were even seen talking with each other, it would get back to their parents.) I didn't love being in the middle, but that's what happens sometimes. I really liked both of them, too.
So anyhow, Romeo fancied himself an inventor. I was over his house assisting while he was working on his newest invention: this "computer" thing. I wasn't even sure what it was, but I knew that if Romeo was inventing it, it must be good. And he was just talking non-stop about Juliet. I warned him that he'd better be careful what he said in the house because, of course, walls have ears.
All of a sudden, his father, Milton Hershey, walked in. I though for sure he'd heard us talking about Juliet but he acted normal. The reason that he'd come in was because he'd just made a batch of choco-chip cookies. I was hardly going to stop myself from gorging on choco-chip cookies made by Milton Hershey himself so I just inhaled those things. And they were beyond good. They were downright immoral.
I asked Mr. Hershey what made them so good and he told me his primary secret was adding some almond extract. He added the same amount of almond extract as vanilla. He had a few other secrets too, which I'll share another time because they're complicated. But adding that little bit of almond is sooooo easy and sooooo good! I've never forgotten any of his other tricks either.
A minute after leaving he came back in and told us that he'd heard us talking about Juliet. He said that he wouldn't tell Halle, but that if Romeo knew what was good for him, he'd better be careful. Mr. Hershey really was very understanding. Also, I think another reason he didn't care too much was because the family feud was primarily between his wife and Juliet's father. And, I later found out that Milton and Halle were having serious problems anyhow which would lead to a divorce when Romeo was in college (University of Hawaii). So he truly didn't care if his wife was double crossed anyhow.
Incidentally, Romeo never completely got his computer working. He eventually gave up and put his energies into learning how to paint. It paid off - he ended up painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. And, as it turned out, he and Juliet eventually broke up. What do you expect from a couple of teenagers? He got over his parents divorce quickly too. He'd been seeing it coming for years. He told me that he'd wondered why it hadn't occurred earlier.
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