On strike

February 15, 2011

I should have either (a) cooked, or (b) gone to the gym. I didn’t have it in me to do either one. I made such a mess of cooking last night I really didn’t have it in me to try THAT again tonight. And I really had intentions, ‘deed I did, of going to the gym. But I didn’t.

On the flip side, I do have a new manicure and pedicure, both of which I badly needed, and the nail salon has new pedicure chairs with much better massagers.  So that was nice.

Last night. Oh, dear Lord, what a fiasco.

I had red snapper filets that had been in the freezer way too long. But they were vacuum packed, so I figured they ought to be OK.

Not.

I tried them in a mirin-miso glaze, with sesame seeds sprinkled atop. NS wrinkled his nose. “Tastes like peanut butter.”  This from the teen for whom peanut butter is one of the four major food groups, along with pizza, burgers and chocolate.

Well, it did, kinda. And the fish had just been there too long, and had a very strong fishy taste. Lucy Lu, however, thought it was delightful.

And there was rice. Rice which I could not remember having salted. I opened the rice cooker (which had just started), stuck my finger in the water, and tasted. Didn’t taste like I’d salted it. So I salted it. Given my previous weekend’s experience with salting stuff, I figured my mental block was still working.

Um. I had, in fact, salted it. Twice.

As NS put it: “Peanut butter fish and salty rice. Dinner fail.” And he was right.

So I ditched that, and he had a meatball sammich, and I fried me a sweet potato and nuked some meat loaf, and both those were good, thank God.

Tonight, my game plan was carryout after we’d gone to the gym and the WalMarts, as it’s called in the local vernacular. Lack of gym dominoed that. And given my record of late, I wasn’t fixin’ to try to cook. So NS had Papa John’s pizza and I am sampling two more of the weekend’s cheeses.

No-Woman Jerk Cheddar. It’s OK. It’s interesting. It’s kinda pretty, with little reddish-brown veins running through it. It’s fairly tasty. I don’t know that I’d buy it again, unless I was serving a sizeable cheese board for a group and wanted something to break up the monotony. And it’d be damn fine with chocolate.

But this Kaltbach Cave-Aged Emmenthaler? Now THAT’s some Emmenthaler! That’s Emmenthaler with a major attitude. That’s Emmenthaler with a chip on its shoulder the size of a cow.

And it’s good stuff. I’ll buy that again. Can’t wait to grate it into something nice and melty.

I topped it off with my old faithful PJF sheep’s milk — Lord, that stuff is good.

I’m making red beans and rice tomorrow, to get my RBR chops in order, as when Child B births this baby, that’s one of the things I’ll be required to cook when I go up there to take care of her and spoil the young’un.  I won’t be home for dinner — bidness dinner, at Fusion, yippee! — but it’ll serve for NS and for Child C and CCRB2 ( the latest iteration of Child C’s Running Buddy, with whom Child C has been bunking the last couple of weeks because CCRB2’s boyfriend has been out of town, if that matters to you). I think they were coming out for dinner tomorrow, before it occurred to me I wouldn’t be there.

Sigh. I’ve been calendar-challenged, as well as salt-challenged, this week.

I am, though, getting excited about the KA arriving. I ordered “The Breadmaker’s Apprentice” today. I may turn out a bakery’s worth of loaves this weekend. Must go by the health foods store and stock up on things like barley malt syrup, barley flour, wheat germ, and assorted other stuff. I’ve found a corn light bread I think I want to try, and lots of other good-sounding stuff….

You and y’mama ‘n ’em got any bread requests, file ’em with me. Meanwhile, I’m gonna watch Michigan and Ohio State.

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