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I do not understand how two people can look at the exact same set of circumstances and see things so dramatically differently.  I am one of many folks on an e-mail list of my high school classmates, and I periodically received newsy e-mails.  Many are the kind that let us know that someone’s mother or father has passed away; sadder still are the ones that let us know one of our classmates passed away.  There are invitations to “mini-reunions” and occasionally to clubs where some band we all liked in high school is playing. 

I’m not particularly close to any of my classmates because I didn’t exactly feel like I fit in in high school.  I was most assuredly a late bloomer.  But I’ve allowed my e-mail address to remain on the list because I just like keeping up.  When sappy “remember how much better things were being a child in the 50’s” come in, I just delete them and don’t give them much mind.  I’m of the opinion that if that sort of thing appeals to you, you’ll think your childhood times were better than the present no matter when you grew up.  My memory is too good for that sort of mind game.

Anyway, something happened this week that kind of threw the high school newsy e-mails topsy turvy.  One of my classmates sent out a ranting about how Obama wouldn’t provide a legitimate birth certificate to prove his citizenship, and when we get to the bottom of this constitutional travesty he won’t be “much of a president from Leavenworth.” (Huh?  Leavenworth??)  I went to snopes.com where my belief that this pronouncement wasn’t worth a bucket of warm spit was confirmed.  I went back to the e-mail and responded to the address list that the statements were false and that could be confirmed at snopes.  I also opined that our high school newsy thing was probably not an appropriate forum for the political agenda.

Boy, were the hounds ever loosed.  The original sender made all sorts of pronouncements about how snopes.com didn’t have all the information, and went on to justify all things evangelical and Palin and warning us that our country was falling apart.  Soon after, another of my classmates talked about pots and black kettles and reminded us about the current administration’s penchant for getting us into wars that have killed thousands, undermining the Constitution with warrantless wire taps, torture, and rendition, and removing statutory constraints on lending institutions to the point that we’re ecomonically drowning.  It was beautifully written, if you ask me.

But I’m pretty sure it’s not over, and I’ll get another e-mail explaining how the last one completely misses the point.  Which is my point with this post.  What makes us see the same thing through such different glasses?  Is it perspective?  Priorities?  Fear?  I would welcome your ideas, no matter what color glasses you peer from.

Well, not exactly my hero, but he is the reason I love to cook today.  I watched every dexterous move of his fingers, and practiced making mine move the same way.  They never have, mind you, but I keep trying.  He made cooking an art form for me.  He’s the king of the kitchen.  But a hero?  Webster’s Collegiate says a hero is, among other things, “an object of extreme admiration and devotion. Idol.”  And idol is “a representation or symbol of an object of worship.” 

I think we’ve been throwing those two words around a bit lightly these days.  For me, Jacques’ kitchen quests are certainly admirable, but worthy of devotion?  Give me a break.  And all those underage wannabes who have loud, mostly on key voices and funny hair – worthy of worship?   Maybe we ought to reorder some priorities here and change the name of that show to Next American Hot Body.  It would be more honest.  Why does Tom Brady become a hero instead of just a really good football player?  What else has he done in life that is heroic besides toss that ball?  (It looks like this year he isn’t even going to do that.  What a drop in status!)

I’m re-thinking my heroes today.  My Mom is a hero because she takes care of my Dad with Alzheimer’s every day.  Not that she doesn’t ever complain, but I don’t think complaining about the hell that is Alzheimer’s keeps you from being a hero.  My sister, Sarah, is my hero because she backs up my Mom and keeps her sane.  I think most of the heroes out there are just everyday people who do extraordinary things that help others keep their lives livable.

Recipe of the day is Cilantro Chicken Breasts because I cooked them the other night and LJ called me his hero.  Maybe he should re-think that.

Cilantro Chicken Breasts

4 chicken breasts, skinned and boned

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

salt and pepper

1/3 cup plain low-fat yogurt

2 tablespoons light cream

1 teaspoon corn starch mixed with 1 tablespoon water

¾ cup unsalted chicken stock

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

2 tablespoons finely chopped shallot

1 small tomato, seeded and chopped

1/3 cup cilantro, coarsely chopped

Heat oil over medium-high heat in skillet.  Season chicken breasts with salt and pepper and sauté until cooked through.  Transfer to plate and keep warm.

In a small bowl, stir the yogurt and cream into the cornstarch mixture.  Set aside.

Add garlic and shallot to skillet and sauté for 1 minute.  Add stock and lemon juice to skillet, and stir to deglaze pan.  Boil slowly for 3 to 4 minutes until liquid has reduced slightly.  Remove from heat and stir in the tomato and yogurt mixture.  Add cilantro. 

Pour sauce over chicken and serve.

Hello, folks.  Neophyte blogger here.  It’ll be nice to get to know you over time.  I’m a woman, married (no kids), who works because she has to, not because she wants to; cooks, because she wants to, not because she has to; and travels because she has to whenever she’s able.  I hope to share a little of my love of life and its adventures with you.

LJ and I have a little lake house about an hour and fifteen minutes from the city, and we spend weekends there as often as we can and not piss off our friends in the city too much.  We were there this weekend and the weather was sunny, blue perfection.  (Personal note:  we’re Texans.  We think 90 degrees is mild summer weather.)  We had friends down to join us, and we cruised the lake on a pontoon boat in the late afternoon.  Perfect pontoon boat snack: watermelon!  I had cooked a pork shoulder in the slow cooker overnight, and it was sitting in a 200 degree oven waiting for us to return and “pull” it to bbq perfection.  Pulled pork sandwiches with potato salad and ranch style beans put smiles on all faces.  My peach crisps with vanilla bean ice cream for dessert nearly made bulimics out of us.  OH, GOD, we were full!

I mentioned LJ, my most special spouse.  The remaining members of my immediate family are my cats, Scout and Zooey.  Unfortunately, they don’t join us on our trips to the lake.  We’ve tried, but Scout just can’t do the car thing.  About 20 minutes into this hour and 15 minute journey, he is simultaneously pooping, throwing up, and hyperventilating.  (You’re laughing now.  Yes, you are.  I wasn’t; the stench was too awful!)  Of course, all this sickness gets to Zooey eventually, and she joins the puking party.  Not fun for any of us.  So anyway, I’m always glad to return to the home front and hug the kitties.  They always act like they’re glad to see us, but really I think they’re just excited to get Fancy Feast again instead of dry food.

Zooey & Scout

I thought I’d end each blog entry with a recipe.  Sometimes they’ll be mine which I either created on my own or adapted from another source, or sometimes they’ll be from someone else and I’ll give credit.  So I hope you enjoy these ramblings, and I welcome your comments.

 
Recipe of the day:  Cynthia’s Peach Crisps

Filling:

3 large peaches, peeled and chopped

½ cup sugar

3 tablespoons flour

1 ½ teaspoons vanilla extract

½ teaspoon cinnamon

zest of 1 lemon

juice of ½ lemon

pinch of salt

Topping:

½ cup coarsely chopped pecans (or walnuts)

½ cup flour

3 tablespoons brown sugar

¼ teaspoon cinnamon

3 tablespoons butter

Mix filling ingredients well and divide among 4 1-cup ramekins.

Mix dry topping ingredients well.  Cut in butter with a pastry cutter or work in with fingertips until crumble is the size of peas.  Sprinkle over tops of peach filling.

Bake at 400 degrees for 30 minutes.  Cool on a rack.  Serve warm or at room temperature with whipped cream or ice cream.