I’m back, at least this week, with an anniversary post. It’s been a year since I left Houston. I’m still getting used to it around here.
Hello, again, Dear Readers:
It’s me again! The Dislocated Texan hasn’t gone away, she’s just been really busy. I’m still doing freelance work on Upwork, writing about different things, and trying to keep the laundry monster from overwhelming us. It has, a couple of times. I’ve received some great feedback from different clients, even though a couple of them aren’t clients anymore. That’s just the nature of the beast.
One Year Anniversary
BF and I recently realized that it’s our one-year anniversary since he “rescued” me from Houston. He first arrived on Friday, September 9th, and then I made two more trips before the “drop dead” date of September 15, when I had to be out. We went one more time, about a month later, to retrieve the rest of my paltry things from Neighbor E’s place, which he graciously stored for me. Despite the desire to, we’ve not yet been able to go back for a visit.
From the place I used to live, I’ve only heard from Neighbor E since moving away; none of the other neighbors have corresponded. Do I care? Nah–and Neighbor E doesn’t, either. We keep in touch, of course, on Facebook, by phone, and through the occasional emails and texts. He has told me a few times to be glad I don’t live there anymore since it was already an unfriendly atmosphere before I moved. There are “lots of new people” there, but they’re primarily renters, I suppose, since owners figured out they could make a bundle doing it. Neighbor E owns his condo, and has lived there for 30 years–he’s not able to just pick up and move as I did. That’s why I would never buy a unit that needed a good $25K in repairs, although nobody could have predicted how it all went down.
And Then She Was Gone
My former residence, a one-bedroom condo I rented for 12 years, was unoccupied for nearly a year after I moved out of it. E told me that someone had just moved into it in mid-August. After completely renovating the place, the management company couldn’t rent it or sell it for love or money, but I guess they finally found a sucker. . .I mean, tenant, to take it. I wonder if the kitchen sink drain has backed up on this person yet. (I know, not nice.)
Thanks to Facebook, I can keep in touch with everyone else, even folks I haven’t seen in a while. The GER isn’t on Facebook, but we keep up on email and the occasional call. (He doesn’t text, either.) Heard from Debbie the Avon Lady just last week when “Hurricane Nate” blew through; we didn’t even notice it. I’ve spoken to LK, the GER, Miss Alice, and others frequently since leaving. I still refer to LK as “my district leader in Houston,” even though I’m not in her district anymore (and neither is Miss Alice.) Still, I have a new district leader in Mandeville, which is nearly an hour’s drive from here, and I go to Buddhist activities whenever I can. BF has gone with me to the district meeting once and met everyone. NM took a few pictures of us, one of which is now our “anniversary picture.”
A Little Spirituality
OK, so not the usual thing from a food blog, but I’m going to shift the focus with a little bit of Buddhist scripture. You’ll understand why shortly:
The Buddha promised in the Lotus Sutra that, for women, the sutra will serve as a lantern in the darkness, as a ship when they cross the sea, and a protector when they travel through dangerous places.
One of the main reasons I became a Buddhist on my birthday in 1986 was because women were not excluded or secondary. Throughout the Lotus Sutra, it states that women are equally able to become enlightened, in their present form–it’s not reserved for just men, and it’s not only something that’s possible in a future state. (Next week is my 31st anniversary of starting my Buddhist practice.)
A big reason I’m a Buddhism fan is protection. It’s not to say that bad things can’t happen to Buddhists, because they do. But sometimes those bad things can be good things in disguise, and you find out later that you were protected. Or that something that you suffered could have been a lot worse. I could tell you about the time I was returning to Houston after visiting New Orleans and took a turn off the I-10 to get a coffee, returned to I-10, and discovered a multiple-car accident. That could have been ME. A $2 cup of coffee saved me a lot of time, hassle, and money, not to mention the potential for injury, a long way from home. LK also knows a parable that explains it well, but I don’t know it all myself.
Next week is my 31st Buddhist anniversary. Not giving it up.
Texas Isn’t Texas Anymore
As I’ve said many times, the inbound migration is changing the face of the entire state of Texas. People flocked INTO Texas from everywhere. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that eventually the glass is overfilled and spilling out. In January, MD Anderson Cancer Center announced layoffs of over 1,000 people. Both Neighbor E and I had applied there, and I went on multiple interviews there. I really, REALLY wanted to get hired at MD Anderson–we both did. I’ve known many people who have gone there for cancer treatment and rave about MDA. But after the way I was treated as an applicant, I’d keep my cancer before I went there for treatment.
Then there’s NRG, who, like other big companies, laid off longtime workers to hire cheaper people. How nice they are. I hated having them as my electric service provider, especially when I had to talk to a customer service person in Mexico. How do I know? Well, the heavy accent was a dead giveaway, but of course, when asked, they told me.
I was protected from that layoff, as well as others
My brother, who has been in and out of Houston many times, told me that “Houston is full of unemployed people.” So, while I didn’t see it at the time, I was protected.
The Unwanted Visitor
Living on the Gulf Coast, you get used to star-struck meteorologists with acting experience making a big deal out of a little wind and rain. One of the Baton Rouge guys has a theatrical routine: he takes his suit jacket off and rolls up his sleeves before his actual segment when he’s talking to you about what he’s going to talk about in the weather segment. Then he puts his jacket on for his “turn.” He takes his jacket off again, exposing the rolled-up sleeves, for another “teaser,” and then for the closing segment with the news wonks and the sports guy, he’s got his jacket back on. (I prefer to depend on the Wunderground app.)
In a lot of cases, they over-dramatize things, scaring the bejeezus out of people. In September of 2005, as Hurricane Rita roared into the Gulf of Mexico, people all over Houston went bonkers. I haven’t forgotten being in traffic with Catmandu and Kismet trying to get to Austin from Clear Lake in the middle of the night, windows rolled down to avoid using the car’s AC. I was on the phone with my brother online trying to find my way through back roads to get to Austin. Hurricane Rita was coming, and it was going to wipe out Houston! It was just weeks after Katrina, and everyone panicked.
The Infamous Hell Ride
I found a Walmart open in Waller somewhere on the way, and some petrol, too. But we didn’t need to evacuate. Austin’s normally a 3-hour trip, but it took 11 hours to get there. I was exhausted. Other people had the same experience, and people died during that nightmare. They like to err on the side of caution, they’ll tell you, but going on TV and all but saying, “We’re All Gonna DIE!!!” makes people ignore you when it’s the real thing.
Unfortunately, sometimes they’re wrong.
First, there was Ike
After the Rita evacuation disaster, I had no plans to evacuate when Ike showed up. When the fire department started driving around telling people to leave, and all my neighbors were gone, I figured it was time to go. I called The E Man and told him I was coming. It was the last time I went over the Sabine River until last year. I was at their place for nine days, staying in touch at coffee shops, libraries, and other places, with my Boeing laptop. There was some serious damage, and I knew people who had water in their houses. But that was nothing compared to this year.
That was also when Catmandu hid inside their sofa. When we extracted him, he went bonkers and we had to isolate him in a closet for a few days until it was time to head home. I never considered evacuation after that!
But what if I hadn’t left? What if I’d stayed?
Then Came Harvey
The eight-year anniversary of Ike saw a new arrival. Harvey.
Nobody saw this guy coming until he took aim squarely at Texas. Rockport. Port Lavaca. Port Aransas. Matagorda. Port O’Connor. High Island. San Luis Pass. And finally, Houston. The 3rd largest county and the 4th largest city in the United States, drowned by a Category 5 hurricane. Louisiana got some of it too, in an area called Cameron in the southwest sector. After Harvey rampaged through Beaumont, Port Arthur, and a handful of other places in Texas. He had a grudge, folks. You can read a recap of it here, on Wikipedia.
The most incredible picture I saw on social media was this one:
That’s not Galveston Bay, The Sabine River, or any other body of water. That’s the I-10 freeway, between Houston and Beaumont, under about eight feet of water. This is what that stretch of land normally looks like.
BF and I made four trips on that very stretch of the I-10 between Houston and Beaumont this time last year. I can’t tell you how many times in 18 years I made that drive by myself, leaving Houston for a trip. We had no idea.
Everything Flooded. Everything.
Neighbor E had a little water in his unit, but it was from a drain pipe. Many of the “new people” didn’t know to move their cars up to the easements, and their cars were flooded. LK had a tiny bit of water in her garage, but her new school flooded, and she was required to go and clean up her new classroom.
The GER had about an eighth of an inch of water in the Funk House/Junk House, which is on a slight hill. But the GER’s other neighbors had 2″ to 15″ of water, and he was helping them clean up. Aunt Ruth was willing away the water, which came up to her place three times but not inside. Aunt Kathy had to clean a flooded storage unit all by herself. Others I know and keep up with on FB had four feet of water in their houses for several days.
I was 300 miles away and didn’t have to deal with anything like that. Miss Alice was in a place that should have flooded, near Hobby Airport, but didn’t. That’s protection. Her new school was destroyed, and the Houston Independent School District (HISD) relocated them to a new school.
Neighbor E’s truck
He left it in his usual parking space, but the water didn’t get INTO the truck, just close to it:
I can’t believe people buy SmartCars in Houston and actually drive them on the freeway, but they do. Of course, in a Chevy Silverado, or a Ford F-150, you can’t see these little insects over your hood. But there are occasions where it’s not a bad thing to have:
It can also come in handy here, although I have to wonder if the infamous homeowner’s association would ticket them for it:
“Ain’t Skeered?” You ain’t been around long enough, Honcho.
Crain’s Houston puts the damage at about $50 million dollars and will take Houston years to clean up and get back to normal. Even places that normally don’t flood, are flooded. The Woodlands. Conroe. Katy. Friendswood. Galveston. You name it, they probably flooded. Although, I’m told those pictures of Southwest Airlines planes underwater at Hobby were Photoshopped.
The Complete Change Of Scenery
I used to dream about that cabin in the woods, living out of the city, and having lots of trees around. Well, I’ve got it–just not in Texas. I’ve posted pictures before of the area I call Cow Road. The whole area is like that, except the roads are better. We no longer have to take Cow Road to get to town, but when I go pay the water bill, I make it a point to go that way. It’s a beautiful ride, bumping and grinding along, with trees covering the entire airspace above the road. I drive up and down small rural highways that are surrounded by native-growth trees, older houses, and beat-up trailers next to “showcase” homes, going into town to shop at….Walmart, or on my way out somewhere.
Fellow redhead writer LM has also had a recent change of life, involving not only a new man but horsies! She’s moved her business to a farm somewhere in California (she was living in Sherman Oaks) and gets to live the ranch life. She’s safe and happy, so that’s the most important thing. I met her at Bootcamp in 2011 and kept up ever since. (Obviously, she’s better than me at the business side of copywriting.) I’m not going to Bootcamp this year but will be here at La Casa watching it live-streamed starting Wednesday evening. So glad I joined AWAI’s Circle of Success when I did, in 2011. Ah, yes, another anniversary, this one in my copywriting life.
Another anniversary thing. Amazingly, I managed to get some Hatch chiles this year–both Whole Foods and Rouse’s had some, and I grabbed a bunch. I also feasted on guac and chips at the Whole Foods in Metairie–you don’t get offered that in Cracker Barrel. (Not that there’s anything wrong with Cracker Barrel, OK?)
Naturally, I roasted them as I did many times in Houston, filling the house with their delicious scent.
I should have done it when *he* was at work, because all I heard was, “Oh, my GOD–what’s that horrible SMELL? It stinks in here! For God’s sake, woman, open a WINDOW!!” This is from a person who owns two stinky dogs, has a cat litter box in his house, and is frequently coated in sweat and some kind of automotive substance.
And, it gets worse.
A couple of weeks ago, a very nice lady who is good friends with AK posted a recipe for Nutella Brownies. The recipe is simple, four eggs and a cup of that delicious Nutella. No kidding.
Carefully warm one cup of Nutella in the microwave until it’s a little bit liquid. Or, more liquid-er, I guess. Use the remainder as you like (i.e., dig it out with the little spatula and enjoy it yourself, because there isn’t much left.) Meantime, whip the heck out of the eggs.
Line your baking pan with parchment paper, and grease it, as well as a little grease on the bottom of the paper, and on the inside of the pan, primarily to hold it in place. I think I used coconut oil.
Once the eggs are really, really whipped:
Admittedly, because of my favorite chocolate cake from one of Suzanne Somers’ books, I added a pinch of baking soda to the eggs before I beat them. Carefully, at this point, you start ladling in the Nutella. WARNING: if your Nutella is hot, it will cook the eggs and you will not have brownies. Make sure it’s just kind of warmed, and a bit more fluid before you start this process. A cup or so at a time, on a slower speed, until it’s all incorporated.
Bake them in a 350F oven for 25 to 30 minutes. I baked them in a rectangular pan so I could use the smaller oven because I still have no toaster oven.
I don’t buy Nutella often, for two reasons: one, it’s sugar, and two, I can’t stop.
So, What Happened?
Happy Anniversary, Honey!
I thought they were delicious–rich, eggy, but not too sweet. It’s gluten-free, but you can add a half cup of flour to make them more cake-like. Pretty good, with a nice texture. BF turned his nose up at them but did make the attempt to try them. I don’t remember his comment, but it included, “well, at least I tried them.”
And after that, I don’t cook or bake anything for him that’s from the “post-Amy menu.” Everything he eats is now “pre-Amy,” unless it’s for me. There was some roast chicken and pork roast this weekend, but anything beyond that, I just cook for myself.
We’re going to see if Walmart has “Thanksgiving In A Box” this year. I’m having whatever I want, and he can make the things he likes. Is anyone coming over? Well, he knows how to make instant mashed potatoes and mac and cheese from a box.
Maybe. But definitely not to the extent I did Thanksgiving last year. There will be CrockPots involved, that’s for sure.
Otherwise. . . .
Well, we’re still here, with two hounds and a rude little cat. She doesn’t much care for me unless it’s time to feed her furry butt. She’s all about BF. Think of her like the female who goes after your man right in front of you, and that’s pretty much our cat. They don’t make them like they used to.
We did manage a little anniversary dinner at Cracker Barrel, but they don’t have any more Big Little Fudge, darnit. Just because we’re not married doesn’t mean we can’t have an anniversary, right? We have no plans to, so that’s why I call him my “partner.” Before you say, “the term ‘partner’ is just for gay couples,” no, it isn’t, and I’ve seen it both ways. But it sure confuses the heck out of people here!
Five Years of Blogging
Yes, it’s true, I’m coming up on five years of blogging. WordPress should be reminding me of that anniversary real soon.
I’m still not making a LOT of money, just enough to help out and get some things I need. One thing I really, REALLY needed was new glasses to replace the old ones. When I say old, I mean FIVE YEARS OLD. No kidding. I had one pair that I wore every day and was horribly scratched, and a second pair–thank heavens–that I bought and kept only for job interviews and dress occasions. They were the last pairs I bought through the insurance I had with Boeing, and BF was starting to complain that maybe I couldn’t see well enough to drive. I reminded him that my glasses were five years old.
Back in August, I had a few dollars and got my first eye exam since April or May of 2012. At the local Walmart, no less. I got a written copy of my prescription and ordered a pair of glasses from Zenni Optical. They arrived about two weeks later in the mail, and I put them right on. I had a headache for a little while because my others were so old, and I needed a better prescription really badly. But I’m OK now. I can SEE!
Took this picture just a couple of weeks ago in New Orleans. I wanted something different. So? Whaddaya think?
You’ll notice my hair is getting longer, too. I need to have about a two-inch trim, which I’ll get soon. It’s somewhat thinner than before, but it’s definitely a lot longer than it’s been in years. Like, since about 2004, I think. But I’m also back taking vitamins and still using the organic plant-based hair color, so maybe it will grow in thicker. Fingers crossed.
I use this pic on Facebook as my new profile shot. Someone commented on my “flawless complexion” and asked, “what’s your secret?” My response: “an app.”
I do plan to get at least a couple more pairs of glasses in different styles, and if I can make enough money, another pair like these to have a backup. Wish I’d started doing this years ago–I always bought from Target, but not anymore.
Until next time. . . .
Many thanks for sticking with me. I will try to finish some posts up soon and get them published.
Hello, again, Dear Readers:
Bet you weren’t expecting *that* ending, were you? Nope, me either–and that was before I wrote it. But all’s well that ends well in the HeatCageKitchen. He still likes me.
I think I’ve lost about 10 pounds since moving. I got my scale out after we visited Neighbor E a couple of weeks ago to get my stuff, and have been using it almost daily. It’s the sleep, and not eating a lot of carbs or eating too late at night. The housework is helping, too. Eventually I’ll be using the kettlebells again, doing some yoga, and utilizing the EZ Gym, which I plan to put up on a wall. Might be bikini-ready next summer, but we’ve got some time. Meantime, my set of 3-Way Ponchos are pressed, washed, and ready to wear. (Glad I bought them when I did–the purple one is no longer available, but I have a Simplicity pattern to make more of them later.)
We have not yet replaced the toaster oven, and while we have plans to, it’s a matter of. . .money. It’s OK–I’m not doing a lot of specialty baking right now, but BF promises that there will be a replacement soon. Maybe not a $200 Cuisinart (but I have coupons from Bed, Bath & Beyond if we do go), but he will get me another one–he told me he will, and he doesn’t break promises. I knew it was going to need replacement months ago, I just put it off, hoping things would improve and I could buy one myself. Well. . .BF knows to put a bug in Santa’s ear, if nothing else. And I’ll make him those boxed brownies again, too, if he asks.
I would have published this post two weeks ago, but, well, the pictures weren’t coming out straight. Then I had to leave the library and pick up BF from work. Then I couldn’t make it back to the library. Then, last Monday morning. . .I pulled a back muscle, and couldn’t move much. I was crab-walking for nearly a week! Finally. . .my back is better, albeit still a little bit sore. Crab-walking over, I’m back at the library. I’ll be working on more new subjects to write about to bring to you. I just don’t find out about new “things” like I used to. Guess I need to go read more.
The back room is finally cleared out, and we hope to do some painting before setting up my studio–sewing room, exercise area, media room and “corner office.” We have a few of my things in there, plus some of my clothes, but. . .we’ll try to get some painting done first. Then, over time, more book shelves, a china cabinet (maybe from IKEA), another big rack for kitchen stuff (I’ll make that cover, finally), some shelves above the doorways, and some other things to turn the former “man cave” (and I do mean“cave”) into a house for a man and a woman to happily live together in. My IKEA Fusion dinette will sit by the front door and become a breakfast nook (soon as we get the car parts outside and replace the damaged miniblinds.) One thing at a time, right? Once we get a lot of my things in the back to furnish the studio, the rest of the house will be neat, tidy and company-ready.
That silly 60-pound pit bull knocked the Meyer lemons off the tree, one at a time! They are now in the kitchen window, hopefully ripening, and I’ll take any seeds and propagate them into more trees. (Meyer lemons are $4 a pound at Fresh Market, so why not?) Last night the Hounds of Baskerville also knocked over the cut celery stubs I cultivated into re-growing. I hope that they weren’t too far gone and that I can save them, but celery is cheap. I told him I would “whip that dog into shape.” Yeah. One look in those eyes and you know I won’t be whipping anything. (We don’t really hit the dogs, of course, but we know someone did once.) But I’m giving them occasional treats so they’ll get used to me, and listen when we start doing doggie boot camp training. (BF gets some treats, too.)
The basil plant I bought from HEB to cut and propagate is now in the kitchen window, and I hope to have more plants growing soon. (PESTO!!!!) I haven’t talked BF into building me a cold frame yet, but that Plexiglas out in the shop isn’t scrap (darnit.) I really, REALLY need to plant the green onions and start more of them, but I haven’t gotten to that yet. The Hatch chili plants are now all outside; soon I hope to start planting stuff, I just keep saying “tomorrow.” But it’ll happen, and BF will stare at it with buggy eyes wondering what the heck is going on, just like the pantry.
I read BF the last blog post, and he said that I was wrong on one thing: he does not drink more than a cow produces in a day. Seems that when he was a kid, he worked milking cows. A cow produces 25 pounds a day, he says, and a gallon weighs 8 pounds. (BF was in the Navy, you know.) Well, a quick check at DairyMoos.com shows that his math is a bit off, BUT–BF drinks about half a gallon a day, I think. Seriously, he really does, and <nails on chalkboard> Coca-Cola at work during lunch. I told him we should get our own milk cow. (I’ll be the one taking it for walks and cleaning the litterbox.)
I had another trip to Baton Rouge a couple of weeks ago, but BF and I also had an errand there one night as well. I begged, PLLEEEEEEEEZZZEE???? and he took me to Trader Joe’s for a stock-up run afterwards. He didn’t know what that was, and I promised him it would be faaaaaaabulous. (I’m guilty of over-using that word.) He saw the Petco two doors down, and we buzzed in there first. THEN we grabbed a beautiful red basket and headed into TJ’s. Got more olive oil, a packet of uncured bacon ends, some chocolate for my birthday cake, (the one from Suzanne Somers) and a few other small things. On the way out, I saw something in the freezer case–frozen quiche. This one is about the size of a pot pie, except the crust is on the bottom. So he would finally understand, I showed it to BF. “You are NOT going to get me to eat that!” he exclaimed. I wasn’t asking him to, I just wanted to show him what it looked like, so he can have a frame of reference, and understand frittata. Yeah, that worked.
I brought my own cloth shopping bags, including the cold bag I made a couple of years ago, and we were right at home with them. I explained to the (male) cashier that this was BF’s first time in TJ’s. BF protested: “I was ambushed.” It’s not the mall, for heaven’s sake–TJ’s is the size of a large convenience store. But I won’t drag him into one ever again, he’ll only go if he wants to (or he wants to keep an eye on me.) BF’s verdict: “It’s just a grocery store.” Oh, well–he eats good. Like this chocolate delight from our last trip to my HEB in Clear Lake:
As I mentioned in the last post, I visited the Mandeville Fresh Market a couple of Sundays ago, and boy did I bring home some goodies. BF was impressed with dinner–and I didn’t have to work too hard, either. Much like my years of living in Clear Lake and shopping after an in-town SGI activity, I went to a study meeting at the lovely home of PB and NM and went shopping afterwards, since I was in the vicinity. (They are the nice folks who came over and home visited me a week or so after my abrupt, unfortunate departure from Texas.) This time, I was on their turf. It was a small meeting, just seven of us, in the middle of an idyllic wooded setting.
I asked PB about getting to Whole Foods, and once again, I ended up at The Fresh Market, but that’s OK. (I got there a couple of weekends later after the district meeting.) See, once you get off the freeway, you go left for Whole Foods and right for The Fresh Market. . .and I got those directions mixed up. Oh, well.
I went primarily to get something for Sunday dinner, and *maybe* to mooch a little more free coffee, too. Well, I had some, but this time I could have coffee. Well, I bought some–a half-pound of decaf Hazelnut Creme. Yum. BF, as always, was not impressed. But it smells so good!
I walked around and examined the glass meat case and thought about different things I could make for dinner. I also picked up a few favorites:
I’ve since discovered that the local Winn-Dixie stocks Bush’s brand cannellini beans. Woo hoo! (No shelf-stable unsweetened chocolate almond milk yet, but I’ll keep looking around.)
I haven’t yet made any hummus, but when the time comes, I am ready to rock and roll:
Originally, I was going to cook up Nigella Lawson’s Pollo alla Cacciatora, but I would need to buy more than I’d planned on, plus I wouldn’t know where the white wine was. Looked a little more, and prowled more, and by the meat case, I saw the jars of Frontera “chili starters.” Different types of base sauces where you brown meat, add the jar, cook it a little more, and it’s done. Well. . .BF has an issue with tomatoes and heartburn after a certain hour of the night, so I passed on the first one. Then I saw the jar called “white chili.”
Never saw these in Houston, or maybe I just didn’t go to the right places. Chef Rick Bayless has a line of Frontera food products, which includes three types of chili starters, and the “white” chili has. . .Hatch Chiles!
I asked at the meat case, and was assured that it was not a hot kind of chili. So, those two items were loaded into my little hand basket along with the cans and the coffee.
I was so proud of myself–a healthy, delicious dinner inside of 20 minutes! I hoped BF would agree that it was tasty and fast. I kept him in suspense, and let him know dinner was, um, “in the bag.” Now to convince him it would be good.
On the way home, I thought it would be a good day to finally make our “special cake.” You know, the one with the Hatch Apple Pie Filling. I already had the cake mix and the butter, so why not? (There goes the “healthy” part.)
This beautiful jar contains some delicious apple pie filling that’s accented with the flavor of Hatch chilis. You didn’t think you could do that? HEB carries lots of Hatch products that are sweet–the cookies come to mind as well.
Here’s what’s on the rest of the jar:
I used the whole jar, of course, because that’s what the recipe calls for:
Yes, it’s worth it, for an occasional splurge. RARE occasions.
BF was at work until 4:00 pm, but one of his car guys was coming over. I asked BF if the man would be joining us for dinner, and he said “yes.” When I got home, the man was outside napping in his truck, waiting for BF to return to the homestead. I went inside to get started.
I got started on the cake first, since that would take 45 minutes to bake. Here we go:
This is what’s called a “dump cake,” in which you dump everything together and bake it. The recipe was provided by the HEB Cooking Connection folks in the Clear Lake City Blvd. location, and it’s the same one Neighbor E and I were privileged to try before Hatch weekend. (E has since made his own at home to enjoy.) First, I cut the butter into bits buy cutting lengthwise, turning the stick and then cutting it lengthwise again, to make these little squares:
Two lengthwise cuts and you get little squares!
Next, I put the little squares into a bowl and stashed them in the freezer to keep them cold.
Now, preheat the oven to 350F, and butter a 7″x 11″ pan. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize I needed that specific size, so I used the 9″ x 13″, which was too big. I made do, though:
Since the pan was big, this is what I ended up with:
Carefully pour the cake mix on top, but don’t mix them:
Now retrieve your butter squares from the freezer, and start laying them on top the cake powder:
Drop this baby into your preheated oven, set the timer, and about 45 minutes later, this is what you end up with:
It’s hot, so you might want to let it cool a little–or completely–before eating. The top is sweet and crispy, while the bottom is soupy and sweet with the flavor of Hatch chilis (but no pepper heat.) Serve it with whipped cream, ice cream (BF’s preference) or just plain. However you serve it, you’ll be popular. It’s that good.
While that was baking, I got busy with the rest of dinner:
Can’t get much easier than this–get it into the hot pot:
And brown that ground turkey up:
Once the meat is browned well, add in the starter and a cup of water:
Cook it for 20 minutes, and this is what happens:
By now, the Hatch Apple Dump Cake has come out of the oven, and has cooled.
The “cake” actually forms a bit of a crust, since it’s baked on top with the butter. More like a pie crust than a cake–but don’t kid yourself, this is REALLY worth the splurge, folks.
Now, with these two manly men on the patio working on a car and making lots of noise, I brought dinner out to them, fresh and hot, and we had dinner together:
Unfortunately, they didn’t get this point, and walked into the kitchen. . .I yelled, I mean, called, at them to come outside to the patio. Both were a bit surprised that I would bring dinner out *to* them, particularly the friend, who, apparently had not been briefed on my mannerisms and habits. I try to be polite and helpful, you see, and I thought it would be better to bring it out to them so they wouldn’t have to stop for too long. When car guys get together, they don’t like interruptions. They just want to do CAR STUFF. So I did what I could to make that happen and make clean up easy (hence the paper bowls.)
BF knew all about the Hatch chili thing because, well, I told him. More than once. However, his “car guy” friend got the lecture, and I joked with BF that he was going to go home and tell his missus all about it. Know what? He did–we got a call from him on the way back from Houston the next week, and I answered since BF was driving. I asked him if he’d told the missus, and he said, “Oh, yeah! I told her all about them, and how good it was.” See? Education is a great thing, and one more person in the world knows about the wonderful Hatch chiles.
Now, despite my love for Pinterest and new trends, I have apparently missed the phenomenon known as a “Dump Cake.” Well, I’m not baking cakes terribly often, unless it’s sugar-free and gluten-free, and they’re usually for me or a specific group of people (like the recent vegan stuff I made to bring to LK’s place in Clear Lake for district meetings.) But checking Pinterest just now, there are hundreds of “Dump Cake” recipes, in which you assemble a few ingredients–dump them into a pan–and bake them. There are even Dump Cake recipes that go into. . .a Crock Pot. No kidding. Wonder if there are any Paleo versions? I’ll be checking that for sure.
This article from Buzzfeed lists 15 “super-lazy” dump cakes that require nothing more than a bowl to mix them in and an oven or slow cooker to bake them. Two highlights are this Black Forest Dump Cake that makes me want some (but I know better, I gained a pound and a half!) and a gluten-free Blueberry Dump Cake from Nicole at Gluten Free on a Shoestring. And then there’s this very sweet one from Moms With CrockPots.
Diabetics–start your insulin!
Once again, the holidays are coming up quick, and it will soon be time to be firing up your slow cookers and waffle makers to keep it all going. Office parties, family get-togethers and all manner of other social events will show up quick. So, a “Dump Cake” can be one more arrow in your arsenal of recipes for the holidays or anytime you need something quick.
See? You learned something today. Well, I did, anyway.
Hi, Again, Dear Readers:
It’s been 15 days, and I apologize. Life has kept me tap-dancing on the bar, if you know what I mean. I wish it would knock it off, I don’t want to dance anymore.
I have a couple of posts that I’m still not finished researching. . .they’re in the draft folder.
I have been told that three ladies from my favorite, fabulous HEB have begun to read this humble blog. I saw Miss Sunie yesterday, and she’s read the last post, where she also appears. Miss Lei lost the URL, so I gave it to her again, and Miss Carolyn. . .I think she found it too. Welcome to this humble blog. I hope you enjoy in what’s presented. Please feel free to read through the archives. You can also sign up with the widget on the right side, if you like.
When I saw Miss Lei the other day, she was sampling ice cream. . .yum. However, when she offered one customer some ice cream, the customer asked, “It doesn’t have Hatch in it, does it?” No. . .butter pecan. The two-weekend Hatch chili promotion is over, although there are some Hatch things left hanging around. The Hatch plants have gone down to $4, and I bought one with several peppers on it. I might just make some of that Hatch Pesto, but I don’t yet know what I’m going to do with the red pepper on that tree.
I managed to get shots of the Chili Fun Facts Miss Lei had posted in her booth:
OK, admittedly, I was in a hurry taking these pictures. Sorry about that.
Oh, and don’t mix basil and Hatch chilies. I took that half-cup of pesto I made a couple of weekends ago, let it thaw a bit, and added a roasted Hatch chili. Tastes good, but you can’t taste the basil anymore–the basil is completely obliterated. I’ll use it with roast chicken or something.
Sue Moran at The View From Great Island created this delicious looking Cheesy Hatch Green Chili Dip. This looks perfect for football season, with some crunchy, salty chips. (Gluten free chips, of course.) Sue is the creator of the delicious Meyer Lemon Cake I made a couple of times with Meyer Lemons I grew out back. I’ve subscribed to her blog ever since, and her recipes are pretty easy. I may have to try this dip one day, even if I have to get canned chilies from HEB. I’ll be trying the whole bowl, OK? You want some, you MAKE some.
Let’s talk about something else. The Demonic Possession of the Microwave Oven. For whatever reason, I’ve been plagued with it.
Honestly, it’s hard to believe how long microwave ovens have been around. It’s like a light bulb, we just don’t think much about them anymore. Invented by an engineer at Raytheon by accident, they’re now just everywhere–homes, apartments, offices, commercial kitchens, campers, frat houses, bachelor pads, you name it.
When I was in the Girl Scouts (never mind how long that’s been, because I don’t remember) my troop was taken on a field trip to an LP&L facility in La Place, LA. I didn’t know what it was, but we were given a demonstration of the microwave by one of their home economists, which was one of the “next big things.” The HE opened a can of corn, poured it into a bowl, and when it came out of that contraption, it was hot and the butter melted.
A few years later, they were everywhere, and you couldn’t watch much TV without seeing an ad for the Amana Radarange. My Dad bought our first one about 1976, when it was advertised as “The Greatest Cooking Invention Since Fire.” (I love Google, don’t you?) With four of us, Mom needed a bit of help in the kitchen, or maybe that’s what my Dad decided. This page says they cost $595: that was quite a sum in those days, probably like a good $3K or more is now. Whatever the reason, we had one of these gleaming, modern miracles:
And the touch panel, similar to a modern smartphone screen:
It was a big deal–it was like being the first family on the block getting a TV just 3o or so years before. I remember going to my aunt’s place and while my Dad talked to my uncle about it, the uncle replied, “well, I’ve thought about microwave cooking, but I’m just concerned about radiation.” No. . .but eventually, they became synonymous with “kitchen appliances.”
That thing lasted until the mid-90’s, when my parents finally bought another, more contemporary model, and probably for a lot less than the original.
Fast-forward more years than I care to admit to, and things have changed considerably in small kitchen appliances.
Some time ago, I wrote about the Karma of Spare Parts, a continual issue of minor repairs that I’ve been doing, mostly out of necessity. There have been a number of issues, like my slow cooker incidents. However, this one is more serious. It’s the microwave.
When I started this blog in 2012, I was happily using an old Sunbeam microwave that I’d bought for $10 in 2004 from the JSC Swap Shop, a Craigslist-type site for folks in the space program who had access to that part of the Johnson Space Center’s (NASA) Intranet. The GER benefitted from the Swap Shop too–I searched it every Monday and sent him numerous ads that I thought he could use. He bought many things to sell on eBay, and I was glad to help.
Now, you might remember that the original microwave blew out. I’d bought a replacement glass plate for it, and a roller ring to go under it. (I returned those for a refund.) What I didn’t know at the time was that the kettle I was using to make coffee was leaking. The water went under the microwave and eventually ruined it. I put some food in it, I heard a noise (BOOM!) and smelled something that didn’t smell anything like food. I realized later that it could have started a fire. Talk about protection from the Buddhist gods! That faithful microwave was toast, pardon the pun. Time for a new one. Well, it was made in 2003, and this was, what, 2014? So it had a good run.
First place I went: Walmart. I’m not a big Walmart shopper, even though some of the goods and services they offer go beyond Target’s. But I go there sometimes for different things. The first one I bought was this Rival model:
It worked great–simple, clean, and just slightly complicated to operate. Until it didn’t. A few months after I bought it, the light started strobing on and off, and so did the power. It also made a weird noise. Oh, brilliant. I pulled the plug, removed whatever was in there, and marched it back to Wal-Mart.
My reason for return: it’s possessed by the Devil.
I didn’t want another Rival, because I didn’t want that to happen again. I should have replaced it with an identical model, but I didn’t. I liked the red one.
The one I brought home, however, was a West Bend, but looks identical to this HB. Then recently, I was making some microwave popcorn, and darnit, it was only half-popped and the light was out. It was plugged in, but. . .nothing. Being a bit of a computer nerd, I unplugged it and plugged it back in. You know, just like you do with Windows 10–restart it, right? Yeah, that worked. But even though it pretended to run, it wasn’t popping popcorn. The magnetron tube, apparently, had blown, for some unknown reason. The rest of the mechanics seemed to be fine, including the electronic bits.
I pulled the plug, packed it into the car, and hauled it back to the Friendswood Walmart for a replacement. Reason for return: demonic possession.
OK, admittedly, I have no way to check and see if demonic possession is real. I just figured it sounded better than explaining it the way I just did. And it got a giggle from the return desk folks. But one young lady in appliances, who happened by while her coworker went to the warehouse to look for the exact same model I was returning, gave me a detailed explanation about demon possession. I kid you not. She insisted that the demon wouldn’t possess the microwave, it would possess me. Really–ask anyone! But after three microwaves went POOF! in the same spot, I can’t give you any other explanation than demonic possession.
And because the Friendswood customer service employees were less than enthused about my dilemma, I packed it back into the car and went down to League City, where I found a much friendlier and helpful group of folks. The greeter, a young woman about 18 or so, said, “Oh, I love your hair color, it’s gorgeous!” I thanked her, of course, and I wasn’t dressed to the nines. The next girl in Customer Service enjoyed my comment about the microwave being a victim of “demonic possession.”
After a short discussion and comparison with a nice man named Chris in appliances, I found my replacement. So this is the one that came home with me last week:
Bigger, badder, hotter. WAY bigger. A nice Hamilton Beach model, 1000 watt microwave.
All three times, I was able to exchange the microwave for something different. Unfortunately, Walmart’s variety is a bit. . .better on their website, but I was not about to wait.
What I had in mind was something like this:
But no, I had to go “up,” long story. Now I have this huge, honkin’ microwave in the HeatCageKitchen.
I have to move it over to the left to use the kettle; I have very little counter space to work on now. Maybe I’ll just sell the Hamilton Beach on Craigslist for its MSRP or something close to it, and go to Target and get the smaller, less expensive one. . .but right now I have, if you’ll pardon the expression, bigger fish to fry.
It’s what I get for thinking. Just the other day, I was thinking to myself, “hey, make sure the next microwave isn’t so big.” Next thing I know, I was getting a new one. Just not the one I envisioned, that’s all.
I may be taking a break from blogging, since life isn’t letting me alone. So if I don’t get back here soon, well, you know I’m thinking about other things.
And maybe getting myself an original Amana Radarange one day, along with some Suzy Homemaker appliances. Then I will have a truly fabulous kitchen, right? (Just kidding.)
Happy Sunday, Dear Readers:
Are you ready for this new week? Summer’s almost over, at least, for the upper states. Here in Texas, summer lasts until at least October. I could actually have a pool party if the weather held out that long. We’ll see. Last year I got strep throat. . .I don’t want that again.
The rains have returned to Houston this week, and while it’s not really “cool,” it is a little “less hot.” In 30 days the temperatures will go down about 10 degrees, and my plants will be happy about that.
Have you been watching Giada de Laurentiis’ new show, Giada in Italy? Giada took her daughter Jade on vacation in Positano, Italy, and they made a new series out of it. Or something like that. She’s cooking Italian food IN Italy, many with an American or California twist. Today’s show was cooking at a friend’s restaurant in the area, and there was a lot of Italian spoken while they worked. They cooked one of his signature dishes, and one of hers from her Las Vegas restaurant, plus her Sin City Cookies, also served in Vegas. Conveniently, Giada’s mother, stepfather, daughter and a couple of other close friends were there during filming, so they got a thumbs-up from everyone. Yes, Giada is waiting tables in this little place, too.
One thing Giada pointed out while she was making the cookies: chocolate chip cookies are an American creation. I knew that, of course, but she was serving them to Italians in a small town on the Amalfi Coast of Italy. There was no reaction from any of the local folks who had the cookies, but if Giada served them with her 10,000 megawatt smile, they didn’t pay much attention.
Speaking of the cookies. . .Giada used a stand mixer to make the cookie dough. . .and you know, it sure looked familiar. So I did a little clicking around, and guess what I found? Giada’s set list–and in it, no kidding, was SMEG! The stand mixer was a SMEG, but did not have the name stenciled across the side. Either they don’t sell it that way in Italy, it was specially made for Giada, or the props department removed the lettering and painted over it. But it was, indeed, a SMEG.
It’s what happens when you pay attention. Anyway. . . .
The garden’s doing OK–I’ve picked a number of Anaheim/Hatch chiles, and darnit, I found one more today while I was taking pictures. Maybe some of the grapefruit salsa will be in my future this week.
I was SO happy to be finally getting a nice looking red bell pepper, and the really hot summer got to it:
The big white, wrinkled spot on the right is where the sun scorched it. I did, of course, water it, but heat indexes of 121 were just too much for it. I’ve never seen that happen. So, I’ll let it ripen a bit more and see what happens next. Might be just that side–and if the rest of it is OK to use, it’ll go into a pot of chili. There are flowers on the plant, so I could see more peppers, but like anything else in a garden, you wait for it.
In addition to the peppers and the sprouting orbs of tomatoes:
That’s actually a little red tomato, but for some reason, it looks like a double. Go figure. It’s one of the four organics I bought in the spring. There are several little green orbs, but this one. . .well, if it matures properly, I’ll happily eat it. The Sungold has about a dozen orbs, and plenty of flowers behind them. Sungold is a prolific-producing hybrid, and it’s been the one I’ve picked most often this summer. The Cherokee Purple and Chocolate Cherry haven’t done anything but sprout more leaves, so I guess it’s done–but I’ll wait and see on them, too.
Both basil plants are growing back nicely:
If it nets me one or two more pots of pesto, it’s worth the wait. Fingers crossed.
The citrus trees are doing well; the Key Lime tree has several orbs that should be ready for picking at some point in the next month or two; there were even some new flowers on it this week. But the Meyer Lemons are still a complete mystery:
I have no idea.
Now, if you’re a longtime reader, you know it’s Hatch Chile time in Houston. Well, in New Mexico, too. The plant I have which grows these magical chiles is in a pot, not in the ground, and it has been a prolific producer this year. If it were in the ground, I’m sure the chiles would be as big as the ones I saw in Kroger this afternoon:
This one was about nine inches long–much bigger than the ones I get, which are about as big as my index finger. I also don’t leave them on the plant too long, or they’ll get red–and hot.
Central Market posted some pictures on Facebook this weekend of the farm land in Hatch, NM. Friend of the blog BL, who I used to work with at Boeing, lives in Las Cruces, NM, and when I posted the pictures on my wall, he said that he lives about 20 miles away; it’s just farm land. But hey–they grow these beautiful peppers there, so why not post them?
I didn’t buy any, although I thought about it. I mean, they grow in my back garden. . .maybe next week.
There are 100 recipes in Central Market’s database, and I went looking for a recipe to use the ones that have been in my fridge for a while, waiting on me to finish thinking about what to do with them. I also had two jalapeno peppers, also grown in the back garden, about the size of the top digit of my thumb. Here’s a primer for “first time Hatchers,” if you’re interested, too. But with the second harvest coming soon for these peppers, I decided to take the pepper by the horns and do something.
I roasted them up under the broiler–and that’s a smell you can’t bottle or fake, it’s wonderful:
I’ve done this before, but not in many years. You roast them until the skin burns and bubbles like this, then put them in a bowl and cover with plastic wrap, or a cover like I did:
If you don’t, you end up with a hard-to-chew outer layer–like the shipping plastic on your smartphone screen, or the keypad on that new microwave oven. It’s easy to remove once they’re cool enough to handle.
When I was finished, this is what I ended up with:Now, to give you some perspective on how much I ended up with, two cans of the same types of roasted chili–one from Target, a 7-ounce can, and a 4-ounce can of Hatch brand chiles (grown and processed in New Mexico), and the chiles I roasted and peeled.
I think I bought the Hatch brand chiles at HEB. I’m so glad they’re gluten-free! (Yes, they usually are, even without the labeling.)
Yes, I know–“what took you so long, Amy?” Well. . .I just had to think about it. I’ve got lots on my mind, you know, and only two paws for workin’ it and taking pictures. (The paws still burn a little from the capsaicin.)
Oh, and I’ll repeat my warning that I posted months ago: when you are handling chiles, do wear gloves. You can get a box of 100 for about $8 at Sally Beauty Supply, don’t worry about what color they are. Seriously–you do not want to be fumbling around trying to put milk in the eyedropper while your eye is burning. Dairy milk, that’s the only cure I could find on an iPhone during Christmas when I forgot to do it earlier. At least I didn’t rub my eyes this time. The heat is concentrated in the seeds and ribs, but you can still end up burning your eyes if you do something wrong. I speak from experience. Only bell peppers won’t burn you alive, OK? WEAR GLOVES WHEN HANDLING PEPPERS.
Breakfast went into the Crock Pot–2 cups of milk, 10 eggs, the chiles, and some Italian sausage, browned beforehand:
And don’t forget the Colby cheese:
Then the whole business was mixed with a hand-blender (aka “boat motor”) and the cheese mixed in:
And cooked for four hours.
I’ll eat it all week, soon as I pack it up into containers so I can soak the Crock Pot stoneware thingy.
If you’re thinking about Hatch chiles, you’d better hurry up–pay 77 cents a pound now for US-grown chiles, or $1.98 a pound later for Mexico-grown chiles (which are available year-round.) Hatch chiles don’t last long, so get a move on. There are recipes on Central Market’s website, or you can create your own.
Next post, I’ll tell you about the big fish that the GER brought me last week. For now, I’ve got to get to bed.