There Was A Time You Could Put it Out of Your Mind

My husband goes running off on the road when he can, which seems to be a lot.  But there is something to be said of alone time.  Time to just be still.  I can take ridiculously long showers and eat bad food that he doesn't enjoy.  I can watch stupid girlie movies.  I can clean the apartment and rest knowing there will not be peanuts on the floor or unwiped spills.  The bedding will be void of popcorn kernels, just cotton pureness on my legs.  I can light candles and pretend I don't suck.  

Because he gets to go gallivanting everywhere, I convince myself I deserve, the best chips made, like these ham flavored numbers, and they were! I got Dave's Killer Bread after seeing countless late night commercials on YouTube. And it was a cut above in taste and texture, actually.  I carefully made myself a stacked retro BLT with chips and sour cream and onion dip.  I watched a whole season of Alone and it helped me to feel less so, as well as grateful I wasn't eating a dead squirrel in a stinky tent somewhere in Siberia.  

Restlessness makes sense to me.  Who isn't feeling agitated, anxious and disturbed? I don't trust people who are complacent, especially during these last two years.  There was a time you could put all this chaos around us out of your mind but that time is gone.  I don't know what we're supposed to do with it but I do respect those who are searching for their own answers. 

Together We Burn, Together We Burn Away

Tostada's versus Tacos

With the mainstreaming of Taco Tuesday and just about everyone loving tacos, I am coming out today as a Tostada advocate.  They are similar, in ways. The main deviation lies in the tostada's flat bed, the crunchy base, in which to mound a sufficient layer of meat and creamy beans to act as the glue for all the other stuff.  It changes the bite entirely from a taco, which is generally folded, soft corn tortillas with meat, onion and maybe some pico de gallo and lime.  A handy delicacy that I would never refuse but different, nonetheless.  More of a treat, the taco, while tostadas for me, are an event.  Hefting the loaded disc up to your mouth, trying to balance the serious, savory items on the bottom and then all the colorful, fresh, cool sassy bits on top.  The mullet of Mexican food, one might say. Whether it be cabbage or lettuce, tomatoes, onions, there is always room for cheese, sour cream or guacamole and then cilantro, green onion, jalapeno slices. In fact, it's almost impossible to stop stacking! THAT full pyramid of delight is what really makes Tostadas my choice.

In this world, there are taco people and tostada people.  As I concentrate on our universal connectivity, I can't help but notice there are also key differences, you really can't ignore.   In a similar comparison, the other day P likened he and I to Jay Farrar and Jeff Tweedy from Uncle Tupelo, rivaling Midwestern mates who went on to create separate careers and bands.   I would say, a great example of a taco and a tostada.  He claims I'm Tweedy, the goofy one who people originally discounted as not as talented but who has an odd spunk that made him more attractive to the masses and who went on to have the bigger success.  He being Farrar, the moody, introspective genius that didn't quite get the kudos he deserved, but as he says, clearly the more talented of the two.  I don't know about all of that.    

All I know is, in my recent past I would swim in the broody, sun-downing sounds of Son Volt.  Jay's voice for me, brings up the sweet, summer's end smell of my Midwestern youth, regret and lost hope.   A field of lightning bugs at dusk, loud chirping of crickets and that stale beer stench in my car from the night before.  That was comforting to me, to wallow in bleak memories.  Lately, I am not as much a fan of embracing the past gloom.  Romantic as it can be, it's not a healthy place to dwell for too long.

Tweedy is much more optimistic and celebratory.  Music you can clean your house by, energetic and uplifting.  When he sings on problems, you know he'll continue on and there is no fear of him giving up.  Even though he's struggled with addictions, his problems seem more simple, common and relatable as he relays them in interviews. 

In my summation, I guess we are a mixture of both at any given time.  But I always thought I would be Jay.  I guess I'm just a Tostado person in love with a Taco. 

The Great Depression Now is Spreading

Pandemic Potato and Ham Soup

Were you smart to buy a huge bag of potatoes for your pandemic party?  Turns out they last but not as long as you would think.  Lucky Brooklynites like me with corner vegetable markets buy produce as needed.  You get 3 potatoes and use them that day, so it's been a learning curve on when and how to use your vegetable stash before it goes bad.  This Ham Bone Soup with chunky potatoes took 1/2 of my small bag.

A long slow simmer with my recent baked ham-bone, an onion, garlic, celery, carrots, herbs, bay leaf and lots of pepper corns until all the meat is released and the fatty bits have flavored the broth.  No extra salt needed. You could blend up some of the potato with cream  and add corn to make a delicious chowder but I felt the clear broth was better to combat the bugs that I already felt trying to infiltrate our bodies.

There is a now an ongoing list on our chalkboard of the order in which fresh items need to be eaten, as well as leftovers.  This way nothing is wasted and you're assured you've been as smart and frugal as humanly possible.  It's not to that critical point yet, we still have all our markets open but when that surge hits, you should have some training behind you.  But separate to that, we should never waste food period.  I was raised by depression era parents and out of necessity they became experts at using up all the bits.  I've kept that going in my kitchen.