Assorted Foods, Mainly Undercooked Ones

Today I was interested to read on some AOL comments that one of the participants was named Buckwheat. That so thoroughly grabbed my attention that now I don't remember the content of the article. My sister, Buckwheat, you know, is not alone in the universe (wonder if the child who played Buckwheat on The Little Rascals is still living? Google Time). To my knowledge to date, there are possibly three Buckwheats currently inhabiting the planet.

Last night I fixed a disgusting dinner. Tuna and Red Bean Salad. It sounded good, but I messed it up along the way. See, I had the celery and parsley leftover from last week's Spaghetti and Meatballs. Mike really loved those, it's a good thing because he ate them 4 times in a row. I love to use up things like celery and parsley, it feels so good. Well, you put greens on a plate. I had to use spinach, when really, Romaine would have been the choice. See, we had Caesar Salad Monday night with the homemade dressing and ev'rythin' (as Shirley Temple was wont to say). I used the Romaine for that. Well, the dressing for tuna and red bean was supposed to be a little oil and lemon juice. But I had about that much Caesar dressing leftover, so I wanted to use that, applying three-day rule, even though I had my qualms about using a dressing with raw egg even one day later. But my hairdresser, a 23 year old walking encyclopedia, thought it would be okay three days later. See, I got my hair done earlier that day, not in the morning, of course. Well, the recipe calls for hardboiled eggs. No problem, I have a method that's No Fail. It cooks the eggs perfectly tender and gorgeous, not rubbery, no gray ring around the yolk. Well, when I go to peel the eggs and tap them on the sink, what became exposed looked sort of jiggly-wiggly. Hmmm. I went ahead and cracked them open and they were not even really softboiled. No, not by a longshot. Not wanting to waste, I threw them in the salad and stirred it all up. Very gross. But I'm starving, so is Mike, because it's ten at night. Besides, I figured we'd live. See, my granny used to serve runny scrambled eggs, some people like it that way. My grampa loved burnt toast and and black bananas. Wonder how those two got together. Well, my runny eggs were disguised within the tuna, kidney beans, spinach, Caesar dressing and all the rest. A situation where ignorance is bliss. I knew the situation, but why should Mike be any the wiser? He might as well carry on, tallyho! (improper use of language, to go with improper use of eggs and deceit in general).

When we sat down to eat (I can't stand standing up to eat, boy, if you can't sit down to eat, what's the use?), Mike took a bite and he looked a little funny. He looked at me. I tried to look a combination of nonchalant and slightly surprised, like, You have some kind of problem? He said, I've never had beans and tuna before. I'm thinking, From which cave do you hail? But Mike avoids beans, it's his purpose in life, never liked them. Beans are great. Honestly, where do some people get their notions? But after we downed the salad he said, Thank you for the delicious salad. This is the moment I awaited. I brag, It was supposed to have hardboiled eggs in it but they didn't cook. It took a lot of self-restraint to keep that choice bit to myself for so long. But the thought of Mike scraping his salad into the trash held my tongue. Besides, my tongue was too busy trying to convert raw egg flavor to hardboiled taste. There is a difference, you know.

Still not sure what happened with the eggs, I think I forgot to bring the water back to a boil after adding the cold eggs and BEFORE removing pan from burner and covering for 15 minutes. I still have two of these impertinent eggs left. Wonder what to do with them. Drink them? I could poke a hole in the shell and suck them up through a straw. My friend used to blend mild and raw egg every morning when she was a school-age girl. She whirred this concoction in the garage so as not to awaken her mother. It tasted very good on LIFE cereal. Her mother instructed her to make this for the protein. A kind of eggnog I guess you could say.

Tonight I redeemed myself, though. Had these organic pork chops that were terribly juicy. Maybe I didn't cook them long enough either, but really, what is more permanent than overcooked meat? So, if we didn't get salmonella from the undercooked eggs, I guess I've seen to it that we will from the undercooked pork. But, boy, they were good. You dust them with flour, salt and pepper and brown them in oil. Then you stir together equal parts of ketchup and water and a spoonful of brown sugar and let that sit on chops for a while (in baking dish). Then you cover those babies up and cook at 350* for 10 minutes. Then give 'em 10 more minutes uncovered. They were almost an inch thick. We're dead. Well, I had sweet potatoes with butter and OJ, broccoli sauteed in oil and water, with garlic, and stewed apples with cinnamon. Very tasty fall dinner, if I don't say so myself. Of course, it may have been The Last Dinner.

Speaking of my grandfather, he was ahead of his times in the health department. Every morning he performed a ritual for his whole life (he was not an early riser, except in Michigan when he had to oversee the greenskeepers in the dewy dawn for his golfcourse). When his feet hit the floor, he marched straight to the kitchen sink and drank 8 TALL glasses of water. These were not 8 ounce glasses, probably closer to 16. He stood there and held the glass under the faucet, turned on the tap, filled the glass, turned off the tap, emptied the glass in about five huge gulps, held the glass under the faucet, turned on the tap, filled the glass, turned off the tap and so on. One morning granny called in frantic distress, Water is gushing out of his forehead like a fountain! Sounded like a panicky situation to me, although to this day I still can't quite picture it, a fountain of water springing up from his forehead?? He ate oatmeal and stewed prunes every morning for breakfast. He worked out at the YMCA for hours each day. The biceps in his arms were like cannonballs, I kid you not, perfect, hard-as-steel round balls. He was always glad to flex those muscles, and I was always awestruck to see them. He used to love boxing, too. Well, he was the healthiest person in our family. When granny got sick and the doctor ordered exercise, she would stand facing a wall and let her fingers crawl up the wall a few inches. That, my friends, was her idea of exercise. Grampa's disgust was unequalled. Again, you have to wonder, but they were madly in love with each other, so the personal lifestyle differences just kept things interesting. Oatmeal and prunes for him, chocolate cake and pickles for her. You have to admit, that's interesting.

Tomorrow I want to tell you about the book DToddlerD did love. Mike read my blog and said it was fun to read what DTD liked and didn't like. But really, yesterday I only highlighted what she didn't like, namely Fisher-Price Little People and Stuff, French fries, hot dogs, Good Night, Moon, Sally Goes Shopping and so forth. I really didn't say what she DID like. So, I shall. But of course by now you know that my telling you today I'm going to tell you something tomorrow is about as trustworthy as a campaign promise. Which is not very. Just a blast of sizzling hot air, I is. Baseball season is running out, and I still haven't told you what America's real true love is. It's kind of embarrassing, my fake promises, that is. Well, America's pastime is a little peculiar, too. But everyone's doin' it!

Let's say a prayer for all of the unemployed people in the USA. For the underemployed, too.

Raw Egg KEM