Scottish Conan Stole My Sleep

If I haven't made this clear before, I have developed an affinity for Craig Ferguson, despite constantly calling him Colin Ferguson, that is completely capable of easily overpowering an Ambien sleep suggestion. He is different and it is refreshing. I am kind of glad to keep him under my hat because a) he can whisper funny jokes to me and me alone!!!! and b) someone somewhere would make him less funny if he were on earlier or filling bigger shoes.

Dogmestic Bliss

When Kirby is not running down to the dock to bark at dogs in China, these two dogs are killing me with there mooshableness this week.

This is Why I Don't Do This Type of Chore

We are on a two-weekend run of time spent at our house in the country. I love it here, but after the Great Sicknesses of 2007-2008 I'd let a few thinks slip around the house. Like the spice jar I threw out that expired in 2004. The year we built the house.

We are unofficially developing a caste system for adirondack chairs and I felt bad about that and wanted to do something positive to help the chairs on the lowest rung - the purely decorative because they're somewhat uncomfortable recycled milk bottle adirondacks covered in mold from the front porch. That's when I engaged in a Ramona Quimby style adventure that involved me doing a lot of uncharacteristic things.

Like carrying two moldy, unwieldy adirondack chairs from the front porch to the back deck, setting up the hose, locating and applying a spray bottle of Patio Furniture Cleaner. Something in my pea-brain said to put the chairs on an angle by the edge of the deck, I dunno, to get the deck less wet? Well, I took one step backwards and flung myself off of the deck taking a chair with me.

My left knee got a good whack on a step (because I insisted on having steps all around the deck so that code would not require us to have--you know--guard rails). Then my pride, my moldy wet adirondack, and my whole self crashed down onto my right knee. Lemme tell you. The left knee got all the glory with this big fancy bruise but my right got the future orthopedic surgery which if I am not mistaken still comes with a trip to La-La Land.

Decadent Dinner in Atlantic City

Wherever we go, I like to try to find down the best matches for us in dining. I wouldn't say the best meal in town because we're really not caramelized ox marrow on a bed of beetles brined in Jagermeister kind of people. We want foods that are a bit upscale, but recognizable. I want a place where the chef has been creative but not tried to reinvent the wheel - have I told you how I feel about garlic mashed potatoes for Pete's sakes? And I like to get more ambiance than I'm necessarily paying for.

And then I found Trattoria Il Mulino, the cafe side of Il Mulino NY at Atlantic City. It was dressed down food at affordable prices. They brought us a delicious amuse bouche to start. It was an eggplant caponata with slices of sausage and a breadbasket handed down from the Gods. Jac ordered oysters as an appetizer. We each had a cocktail. For once my order was exactly what was written on the menu - Ricotta Ravioli. On the other hand, for Jac I suggested Shrimp Fra Diavolo with linguini which wasn't on the menu but they were happy to make it. Everything was superb.

I spurred Jac on to dessert and could not believe the flourless chocolate cake placed before me. It was absolutely sinful. Jac got coconut sorbet in a coconut shell and we purged from our memories Alexis Stewart chiding that "you know they reuse these things ALL NIGHT LONG" about a lemon cup of sorbet.

We were charmed by dinner and Jac proceeded out to the casino floor to win a little more.

(Sorry for the photos I'm not about to whip out a flash in the middle of the posh restaurant.)

More Time in Atlantic City

"If we leave a day early, that's it, we just lose our hotel room fee, right?"

Yes, right. It's not that there's nothing to do in Atlantic City, it's just that we really did the heck out of it and my husband was quickly embracing the notion of planting his behind in a cozy leather chair and making out with Tivo. We went to all of the AC Casinos.

The Good: Borgata, Harrah's, Caesar's Palace, meh Trump Taj Mahal

The Bad: Tropicana, Bally's, Resorts

The Bad: Showboat, Trump Plaza, Trump Marina

As I said, if there's a next time, it's Borgata or Bust.

We walked the boardwalk and had a refresher in people-watching. We walked and walked to The Walk Outlets which are as oddly configured as the streets of AC. We bought underwear, the practical kind. That was it.

We had a great breakfast at Bread & Butter in the Borgata, a good burger at Gallagher's Burger Bar in Resorts, an okay brunch at Sonsie's in Caesar's Palace Pier Shops.

JAC in the AC

As Atlantic City virgins (okay born again virgin on my part) we had a lot to learn. I scoured the internet before our trip to cram as many little tidbits into my brain before we went. As you can imagine the things we actually needed to know were often not among those tidbits, but that is why God gave us the iPhone 3G.

We stayed at the Trump Taj Mahal. It was the nicest option on the Boardwalk (arguably). We stayed in the new Chairman's Tower. It opened last year. That I like, the notion that fewer people have laid where I will: GOOD. However, when they built this tower they managed to isolate it as far from every other thing in the city and hotel so that each return to trip to the room had like three or four EZ Pass tolls to navigate. As you know from my previous travels, my Last Room on the Wing winning streak was maintained so our 1/4 mi walk from the elevators would be our daily warm up.

Sunday, Day One, we were starrrrrving after arriving, checking in and getting our bearings. We found Dynasty the Chinese restaurant at Taj and I had a perfectly lovely "sad little American only eats white meat chicken" dish that I devoured. Andy was more adventurous and finally we were both fed.

We like to play slots. We discovered this in Las Vegas. I discovered it when I started winning crazy little sums in Vegas. That luck apparently does not apply for me on the east coast. I was solidly down for the trip. Fortunately we were playing the penny slots, but a gal can still do some damage there. Jac had better luck than I and would often cancel out my losses with wins in a single session. We like the newest, noisiest, "most free spins" machines, preferably located near a waitress with a penchant for speed walking.

Our room at the Taj was very nice. We were pleased to find and empty and cold refrigerator which we filled with our own beer and soda. Internet isn't included and you know that won't due for Elle Kasey, so we got daily access. I haven't seen the bill yet, but I suspect it will involve selling a cat and possibly renting a room.

The image in this post is of the Borgata in Atlantic City. Hear me now and believe me later. If you are not a 70 y.o. hardened gambler who smokes three cigs at a time and orders the prune juice with Grey Goose then you want to stay at the Borgata or its sister property the Water Club. They transport you - to Vegas or somewhere with a fine resort. They are breathtaking and make you wonder if you really have to go back to your other hotel. The Borgata is located in the Marina district. I don't care what the map looks like getting from the Marina district to the boardwalk is not unlike the Von Trapp journey out of Austria. It's all circles and interstates and just take a damn taxi already. Because sure, go visit the Boardwalk, but make the Borgata home.

Vacation from Blogging and Everything Else

After our adventure at Ray's the Steaks, we didn't fall off the map. I just smashed smack dab into the WALL. Work was work craziness. Life was piling on plenty of its own craziness. FInally I figured we were really due for a real break from the routine.

I set out researching anywhere we could go without a passport. We both have passports, but they've expired, which means we have to renew them which was just one more administrative task that could not be tackled before someone was handing me a frilly drink on a beach somewhere. I looked all over from the Virgin Islands to Last Vegas. Flirted with the idea of visiting dear friends on the West Coast. Toyed with the notion of a Southern road trip. But ultimately, a place we could get to in about 3 hours, that would have a right-pamperin' hotel, might have some Hot Hot Super Jackpot slot machines for Jac, and that had a lovely view.

I settled on Atlantic City. Hey, we'd never been there. Well not reallllly. I was there for about 4 hours one morning when my friends and I had driven like 11 hours to get there... Long story.

So we went to Atlantic City!

Ray's the Steaks

People were constantly raving to us about this show called "Mad Men". It was on basic cable. We'd never seen it. We weren't especially interested in finding a new show. And then WHAM! We were monster "Mad Men" fans. Holy God how could a show that good be airing every week while we were putzing around trying to find something other than that home building makeover show on a Sunday night. And of course, Mad Men is about all the drinkin' and smokin' and general overindulgence and well a blog is just no place to try to break it all down except to say that walking into Ray's the Steaks was just like that first experience with "Mad Men".

Ray's the Steaks had been getting raves for years. We'd heard of it. Heck, even our friends in Md were raving about the outpost Ray's the Classics there. For Heaven's sake, even the President had been to it's sister restaurant Ray's Hell Burger. The reviews I read were certainly stellar - but there was this offputting vibe in them - "you're certainly not paying for the decor" is actually on the menu, and is repeated in the reviews. The old space, they said, was a bit tight and throughly unadorned. The new space has a minimally-posher reserved area and a casual walk-in dining area. We hadn't gone. We'd kinda meant to but we weren't going out of our way for it or anything.

Then my beloved husband got a well-deserved promotion. I made a 5 p.m. reservation. Yes, I said FIVE P.M.. We are nuts. Actually we are fortunate that Jac gets out of work early and we can beat the rush at good restaurants. Also we are practicing to be elderly. We started with a salad and scallops. I was devouring my salad in such a manner that half way through I pushed it aside determined that it would make a terrific lunch the next day. Jac liked his scallops but is yearning for the crisp caramelized contortions of the bacon-wrapped dates we got at Founding Farmers recently.

When that freaking steak showed up at our table. O-M-G. Let me just say this. I am a former quasi-vegetarian with strong veg-leanings. I am perfectly happy being meatless for whatever period of time. I also bristle about ordering steak in a restaurant because I am not a med-rare/medium gal. I need the thing dead and cooked, not just warmed up a bit. This is a belief deeply frowned upon in fine dining establishments. You SHOULD want your meat mooing at you they think. You are clearly an idiot if you want your food, you know, cooked. So I bowed to peer pressure and went with Medium. It was a calculated guess. Anyway, my marriage brought meat with it and this steak was amazing.

Jac's steak came with a port wine sauce that I would like to bathe in. I would like to cover bread with it. If I put something with nutritional value in it I would eat it as soup. The waiter added a gratis suggestion - a brandy mushroom sauce. Mushrooms are not my favorite vegetable, but again I trusted my instincts and took the two mushrooms he gave me with a single bite of steak. If those had been the first mushrooms I'd ever been given I would have insisted on mushrooms every day of my life. Jac brought the sauce and steak home to make into a sandwich for tomorrow.

Our waiter was a delight. I tipped him either 30 or 50% depending how tipsy I was when I tallied the cash on the table and the part of the tip I put on the credit card. We both had a couple of drinks. The steaks came with heavenly mashed potatoes and creamed spinach to share. Our dinner was $103 (before tipping incident). A frigging bargain for a nice meal in Arlington. We will be back. We will SO be back.

Squash Gratin Another Way

Eggy has been working on Year Two of his garden and it's starting to yield some tasty rewards. I had my pick of three enormous squash for my take on 100 Cookbooks' Summer Squash Gratin. Hers looked absolutely superb and I was totally game for it, except I ended up having to work long hours and didn't get a start on it until late in the day so when she wanted me to create an herb sauce and dress the squash with it, that was a little beyond my ability at that moment. My version is probably far cheesier and a little differently spiced than hers. I will go back and try 100 Cookbooks' recipe since at dinner Eggy mused, "I wonder what this would taste like without the cheese." Blasphemous if you ask me, but I have a feeling we're going to have an abundance of veggies around here so whatever I can do - even if it means a gratin without cheese, then so be it!

Actually, for me the breadcrumbs were the hit of this dish. I processed two slices of country white bread and half a sleeve of Ritz crackers. She called for lemon zest mixed in the squash but I only had lemon peel in the spice cabinet. I processed that into the bread crumbs as well. She called for oregano, but it's not my favorite spice (I dunno sometimes I get a sour note from it?) so I used rosemary and parsley. I forgot to add the red pepper flakes which is usually irrelevant in our house since my husband adds them to everything. Also, I this 12 oz. block of Gruyere cheese that was "use by" just a few days later, so I put the whole thing in, you know, instead of the 3/4 cup Gruyere she called for. Salt, pepper. 400 degree oven for 50 minutes. It was the leftover I went back to for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I can't wait to make it again.

A Lovely Lunch in Old Town

When the sun came out on a Saturday morning we knew we had to do something with that remarkable fluke. Jac and I headed to Old Town, Alexandria for a little trip to the markets - crafts and then farmer's. We brought the dogs. Lexi was thrilled at all the attention. Kirby wanted to fold himself into an invisible clump of fur. Still, sitting outside at a restaurant with the dogs is such a wonderful thing. I wish they could go everywhere.

I was in the mood to spoil my husband, so we went to the Fish Market restaurant. He had oysters and a shrimp po' boy. My lunch was completely forgettable I just wanted to get to the post-lunch Ben & Jerry's cone.

Moronblogging: My Very Secret Private Cell Call

It's Thursday night in the Walmart produce department. The place where I like to make all of my most important calls. Afterall, what's emptier than the fresh food section of a freaking Walmart? I am rambling around trying to talk in my high secret voice about secret and important things. Like the ball in Pong I keep bouncing off the edges of the department and crossing paths with danger - Stranger danger! Strangers trying to listen in to the calls that I am CLEARLY making in the PRIVACY section of my local big box electronics/grocery/automotive/housewares/clothing store! Sheesh, don't people respect peoples' privacy any more?!?!? When I set out a clear semi-diagonal pattern with rhythmic distortions I expect people to stay out of my way dammit. Wait, are you listening to me again? I am talking quieter than Billy Mays! That's eavesdropping!

If you wanted to get corn, onions, peppers, and squash you should have planned better - or brushed up on your Pong before you came in here, because I'm at an advanced level of crazy.

Sibling Symmetry

This is truly a case where an image is worth well over a thousand words. It may take more than that to explain what's brought Lexi and Kirby to choose to sit together in the foot space behind one seat in the back seat of our compact car. The drive is 3 to 4 hours on a summer Friday.

See, Lexi did have a fear of cars when we first got her. She was a bit scared of the motion. She would try to crawl into the front seat or onto the floor in the back. But she grew up, she became our Big Girl. She learned that usually when in the car she was going somewhere awesome! So she kind of chilled.

Then came Kirby. Kirby reminded us that dogs don't come pre-programmed for car travel. Every trip for months he got car sick. This was a bit tedious considering we were going to the river pretty much every weekend. Drive down. Puke. Drive back. Puke. It was quite a vicious cycle. Plus he didn't like the idea of getting in the car. Afterall, as a rescue, not all of his car trips had turned out so great. But even Kirby, finally settled down.

Suddenly, everyone was in the groove. We'd look back and one would be peering out the window while the other was sleeping. Harmony.

Now, just as suddenly. Everybody wants to sit on the floor, behind the driver, together. As I try to mentally do the insurance underwriting on sitting on the floor versus sitting unbuckled on the back seat, I wonder what's so cool about cramming in on the floor. I'm like way too old and human to know.

Swine Flu or Possibly You

I know I'm always claiming things are busy chez magniferous, but sometimes there really are two to three things happening nearly simultaneously. And yet I manage to be cool as a cucumber. Part of that coolness can be attributed to the fact that we turned our air conditioner on for the season on January 9th and we have been trying to keep the house at a chill temp ever since.

We live in a 1930's bungalow (yes, that's it above). The first two summers here we were plagued by heat of the highest order. We'd run the AC and get a whopper bill and still be mopping our brows. The contractors said we have an undersized unit mismatched with an exterior unit. It's fairly hysterical to me because that is the very same thing they said in our last house - only there the mismatch worked and our AC was great. Some discussions went on about how to fix the air problem. All of them involved a lot of dollars we didn't have at the time.

Then, one day, on a whim, I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond and bought six pairs of curtains for our enclosed front porch. The impact of small (obvious) things cannot be overlooked. The house is quite livable now (as in it is possible to tell that cool air is being generated and circulated), but we always have to stay two steps ahead of the heat or it'll be 87 degrees in here until October.

Anyway, for a while we had my double second cousin as a houseguest. It was kind of fun having a roommate besides the beloved Jac. But he tells me at some point we might want to use our spare room for some other purpose. So off to greener digs she went. We're looking forward to serious R&R this weekend at the river. There are just a bunch of little annoyances piling up that can only be cured with the appropriate amount of sloth and beauty. Oh, and I'm going to take the Robitussin because there may be something to that "science & medicine" stuff. Oh right, I'm sick, like nasty cold sick. I have always been a "never get sick person" then my body decided to contract a superbug and mint kidney stones at an alarming rate and now the whole kit & kaboodle ain't worth what I paid for it. Or something.

Mobile Moronblogging

Moronblogging on the road. Just another idiot turning left from a side street into the right lane where he wanted to go 15 MPH and then got huffy when I tooted at him.

I Love My Retarded Dog

We are at the dog park. It is the most radiant not-too-hot spring day imaginable. We've walked the length of the park and that went well. Now I am sitting at a park bench and Lexi is begging me to take them to meet more people while Kirby is cowering under the table watching everything around him with excitement and anxiety. He clearly wants to go play buy doesn't want to leave the safety of his park bench cocoon. I want him to go out and play and have given him all the encouragement that it's gonna be okay. This might just be one of those love the dog under the bench kind of days. Lexi is barking mad with jealousy. 

Freaky Friday

That is our cat Maddie. I will admit that she is peering over a now-deceased computer. But it is Friday and I can't be all taking new pictures and stuff. After all, the sun is out.

It's a little odd that the sun is out because 15 minutes ago there was torrential rain. Now it's bright and light. Go figure. Work has been on the agenda for much of the week, that and take out. Thus, I have not provided a whole lot of blogging awesomeness. But there's hope for the weekend.

We are staying in the city this weekend and I have some great expectations. I would like to:

• sleep an inordinate amount and at inappropriate times
  
• get the hunks of fur under Lexi's chin under control
  
• take out the takeout box that has been in the fridge since Monday
• oh, and get my Mafia Wars energy timing out better

They're pretty lofty goals, but I think with the right help they might be doable.

Brilliant Lemon Pie

As I've fretted so many times before, Jac is an app man and I am a dessert girl. This has the unfortunate effect of meaning we usually don't get dessert. Our outing to Carlyle in Shirlington was a total WIN for Team Elle Kasey!

Shirlington is a seriously hot dining spot. It's two rows of dining plus a new annex of dining and shops. It's outdoors and has ample patio seating that lures people on the most vaguely favorable evenings. We dared try Carlyle, easily the granddaddy of Shirlington dining on a busy weekend night. To our surprise they seated us right away. The place was packed but it was a tasty dinner. When a lemon meringue pie passed by I pulled out one of my dessert chits and invited Jac to sit back and enjoy a coffee. The brilliant thing about the pie was the meringue was described as "marshmallow meringue" and it was much sweeter, fluffier and substantial than meringue is. I know I'm going to have to figure out how to make topping goodness.

Return to Ruby Tuesday

More than a year ago we stumbled into a Ruby Tuesday and ran into a woman who'd been my manager when I waitressed at school more than a decade ago. She told me that big changes were coming to Ruby's they wanted to shake off the Applebee's vibe and move more toward upscale dining. 

Sometime ago I heard about Ruby's PR uh stunts promoting the launch of their updated brand and menu. They had announced they were going to blow up a Ruby Tuesday and rebuild from the ground up or some other metaphor. But it turned out they actually blew up like an old Bo Jangles fast food place instead of a Ruby Tuesday - but no matter because they were NEW and IMPROVED. But we didn't happen into Ruby's for many many months. I'd been turned off first by a switch to Hunts ketchup and then to the ketchup rationing, and an encounter with something the manager might have called FreshPrep or pre-prep (read pre-cooked and we put it in the microwave) bacon. 

But this week I needed new tires and Ruby Tuesday was impossibly close to the tire shop so we went in for an early dinner. 

We went in and found a pleasantly updated Ruby Tuesday. Things were fresh and mellow. It was a more grown up Ruby's. I got salad from the bar, as I'd done on breaks during so many shifts working at other Ruby Tuesday locations, and started to think things had taken a step in the right direction.

I guess they have but I can say I was grossed out by the burger sliders. I'm not such a fan of beef in the first place, but they had put a heap of random seasoning into the little bites and it made them both too dubious for me to eat and too pathetically trying too hard to be chic.

When we have to get tires again I'll stick to salad and a Ruby Relaxer because they do make a mean Ruby Relaxer.

Stepping Out: Jackson 20

I was asked to pick a luncheon spot for a business meeting and Jackson 20 in Old Town Alexandria came to mind. The menu had looked delish online. I arrived early and the place was half-full with business-types. I opted for the tea and was surprised and delighted by a Moroccan mint style iced tea. They had changed the menu so the one on the website wasn't quite up to date. I had kind of psyched myself up for the pappa al pomodoro (tomato soup with bread) but since they didn't have that I resorted to the multi-cheese panko and sundried tomato penne pasta which was heavenly and rich. My companions had the po' boy and fish. The waitress didn't know what remoulade was which didn't go far with my guest from Louisiana, but we were all pleased with our meals. I brought easily 2/3rds of my dish home and have been reheating it to my delight ever since.

Jackson 20

480 King Street

Alexandria, Va 22314

Moronblogging: Family Style

I have been doing a little experiment. I have been doing what a lady friend my insurance pays to listen to me calls "positive self-talk" when I go out in public and face humanity. I'd explained to her that sometimes people in public are so freakin' crazy that I want to either flog them with a really great floggable object I can't think of right now, or blog about them in spectacular fashion exposing them to global humiliation on order of the South Korean "Dog Poop Girl". Unfortunately, chronicling all of those people is like counting to one of those numbers people always tell you would take 187 years just to count out loud.

So now I think nice things when I go places. It is a forcefield of goodness against a world of wackiness. It is my happy bubble. We went to the "Fresh Mex" restaurant at the mall today and were seated in a booth. A short time later we saw the McCrazytown Family headed our way and my happy bubble shuddered. 

She wouldn't take the table nearby, not with two kids and a stroller. She wanted the booth behind us. She didn't want a booster seat because her daughter would crawl out of it. She put the girl in a high chair. This left the stroller floating between tables, a formidable obstacle for the waiters who had to pass through every few minutes.

Things started getting really crazy when she ordered grilled fish tacos. By this time we knew they were keepers and our ears were tuned for loony. 

CrazyMom: I will have the grilled fish tacos.

FreshMex Server: Okay, they are made with salmon.

CrazyMom: Salmon. Oh. I don't really like salmon. I guess then I'll just have the...

Wait, you love you some fish tacos but of all the fish they could have chosen salmon (a wildly popular bland fish when I was waitressing), SALMON is offensive to you. Okay, well I hate seafood altogether so I'm not going to be judgy. 

CrazyMom: ... but not with the beans. I can't have any beans.

What? I'm sorry, WTF? Do you know that you are in the Fresh Mex restaurant in the mall? You can't have BEANS? Is there a bean allergy I am unaware of? Do you have a wild colon? If so is the Fresh Mex restaurant really your best mall dining option? And then, do you have to, you know do this...

CrazyMom: Yes, and (the daughter) will have the... but no beans, she doesn't like beans.

Oh Lord above. But the best part - no it's all the best part actually - was when her husband asked what refried beans and black beans were.

And then she and the daughter reviewed the foods she likes: french fries and cheese and bread and spaghettios. I'm all for carbs, but let's get Emily to eat a few other things since she's speaking in full sentences. 

I thought Mr. McCrazytown Family was from the general Former Soviet Union region. Jac was pretty sure she called him Raoul and he was speaking with a broken Spanish accent (but then hello, whatever part of the Spanish-speaking world you're from you should totally know what beans are dude). We were sort of relieved to learn this as we listened to her manifold issues because we surmised he's not getting 60-70% of what she's saying which is just about what he would need to have a sustainable level of sanity.

And then, in the Mexican (sorry lots of air quotes around that since it's the Mall Fresh Mex place) restaurant she says:

Mrs. McCrazytown Family: I hope they don't have Swine Flu here.

FTW!!

Thank goodness the other kid was on the boob having a non-bean lunch the whole meal or he probably would have had something crazy to cry.

And, now we will resume our positive self-talk and re-enter the happy bubble.

Brie, Onion and Apple Panini

Founding Farmers, one of our favorite restaurants, has a killer flatbread made with onion jam, brie, and sliced apples. I decided to make it at home today since it is ghastly outside and the thought of leaving the house, even for this amazing sandwich is not up for discussion.

I sliced the onions thinly, and added them to a pan with olive oil and butter. I covered the pan and let it simmer on low heat for 30-40 minutes, stirring occasionally. Then I added raw sugar and salt, covered it and cooked the onions a little longer. Finally, I turned up the heat and stirred them while they turned deep gold.

Then I covered sliced bread with apples (again thinly sliced) which blocked any holes in the bread. I removed the onions from the pan and placed the bread with toppings in the pan. I added the onions and grilled each side of the bread until golden using a touch of the cooking liquid from the onions. I'm having potato chips with my panini and it's the perfect antidote to this rainy, gnarly day.

Come Again Another Day

It has been raining here for what seems like forever. Maybe we had a sunny day sometime back in February, but it feels like an eternity. There's plenty going on Chez Magniferous to keep us occupied. We have a sudden, unannounced and somewhat unnatural fanaticism for hockey -- specifically for the Stanley Cup hopes of the 2008-2009 Washington Capitals. It is far safer for me to refer to this new found passion in unambiguous language so that I do not sound too much like a total noob or tool.

They hockey time is eating into the cooking and crafting time. Well, sort of. I've been working on genealogy and having fun finding pictures of family as-yet unseen. I bumped into a cousin on the Internet and she has great things to share. I am struggling to figure out the best way to share and encapsulate the nuggets of family knowledge. I want to put them on the web but restrict access. I want it to be very simple to search, sort, organize and add to the collection. RIght now I'm using Google Sites. I don't know if that's where I'll end up.

Last night I decided to see what all the fuss is over Mafia Wars on Facebook. Now I am counting the minutes until I can go back and see if I've amassed enough energy to do a job big enough to get me to the next level. I still don't quite know what I'm doing but it's a wonderful timesuck.

I'm thinking it's time to plan a trip, but that could also be the effects of too many missed weekends at the river.

A Spring Cake

It's truly rare that Jac asks for a dessert, so when he does I tend to listen pretty intently. He adores coconut cake. The first time I made it for him I proudly presented it and he declared it good but explained that real coconut cake has coconut in the cake itself as well as in the filling and frosting.

This cake was a week in the making. I'd intended to make it at the river and got as far as putting cake mix (hey, shortcuts help!) in the bowl when I axed it from the menu. Jac packed the cake in a plastic bag and it sat on the kitchen counter for days while he asked hopefully when I was planning to make him a coconut cake.

Finally I dove in. I just made white boxed cake and added coconut. I made Ina Garten's delectable frosting combining butter, cream cheese, confectioner's sugar, vanilla and almond extracts. Then I liberally added coconut. Jac declared it an unqualified success and over its lifespan ate at least three servings - that's like you and me eating the whole pan of brownies on the Like-O-Meter.

So, another year, another culinary success on my husband's favorite's list.

Constant Craving

For days I had a yen for an apple crisp with vanilla ice cream. I really would have preferred to just swing by a shop and pick one up because I didn't have a recipe in mind and I wanted a spot-on apple crisp.

I have to admit that my bar for apple crisp was set many, many years ago before my palette was truly established. You see, nothing beat a Roy Rogers apple crisp in a shiny red tin. I don't think there was even ice cream involved -- it was just that good. Where the dessert went - off to discontinued dish heaven I suppose, I can't be sure, but its memory lingers on.

So this was one of my instinctual cooking events, the kind that leaves me with no reliable recipe to give you. It was baking with a scoop of this and a dash of that. The Internets did give me the clue to use oatmeal in the topping, which gave me a crisp, chewy crust. The rest was a delight of apples, cinnamon, brown sugar, flour, butter and a little salt. I baked it at 350 for as long as I could stand. It was even better reheated the next day.

7th Carpenter's Shelter Cook Off

It is a bad blogger who forgets her two quality cameras when she does bloggable stuff only to have to resort to the less-than-ideal iphone camera. Just how small does my point and shoot have to be to make it into the purse?

Anyway, late last week my sister told me she had a friend with tickets for the 7th Annual Carpenter's Shelter Cookoff today. Food for a good cause? I'm in! And free? Bring it!

Jac and I drove to Del Ray and were among the first through the doors. I've never been to the Birchmere despite many shows that we belatedly thought, "Ohhh, we should have gone to that." Arlington and Alexandria restaurants offered tastes of their dishes and the price of admission included the samples. I could have just kept getting in line at the Asia Bistro table all day for the veggie dumplings. They were heavenly and scored my ballot for best restaurant. Jac noticed the serious prevalence of pork and ultimately declared "no more pork!" right before I pointed him to the chili dogs. It is in the 90's today which is strange for April - so I suppose the restaurants couldn't have predicted that hot chowder and some of the heartier dishes would go over like a lead balloon today.

We both wanted to bid on the live auction's trip to Atlantic City, but the auction didn't start until 1:30 and both our power-tasting ability and our new found support of the Caps had us out of there way before 1:30.

We're glad we went. The Carpenter's Shelter is a great organization. I love that they've been able to take and use random hygiene products I've donated on a couple of occasions. 

A Beautiful Day for a Cookout

April doesn't strike me as prime cookout season, but when I heard about the weather forecast for Saturday I knew we'd be lucky to have an outdoor party that day. I sent out a Facebook invite on Tuesday and by Friday night things were coming together for a lovely gathering.

My approach was remarkably simple by my standards: raid the pantry, make a random assortment of things that I enjoy, get the main dish from the Maine Avenue Seafood Market and enjoy. Saturday morning we set out for the market. We'd been there once before years ago with friends. Andy's eyes grew wide as we approached a wall of seafood. We ordered a couple pounds of shrimp and a couple dozen freshly steamed crab and zipped back to Virginia. One quick stop at the grocery for ice and beer and we were ready to party.

I surprised myself when I realized we really haven't entertained in this house much and we've been here nearly four years. But the group who showed up were compatible and we had a very nice afternoon on a surprisingly hot spring day.

Wildly Hostile Coffee Shop Signs

Probably my favorite moronblogging post by a person who didn't know the term for what they were chronicling ever:

Diary of a visit to a coffee house run by a madman.

by Uncommon Priors

discovered, naturally, on Consumerist.

Easter Crepes - Savory Style

Rosemary's Great Crepes

I may have posted these crepes before. If I have, enjoy the subtle but succulent difference cooking them with bacon makes. These are what we had for Easter supper. 

For crepes:

⅛ teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons Unsalted butter melted

14 tablespoons Flour

3 eggs

For Bechamel sauce:
4 teaspoons minced onion
⅔ cup flour
white pepper6 cups milk
8 tablespoons Butter
1 teaspoon saltnutmeg

For filling:
12 slices -15 ham
2 egg yolks beaten with 1/2 cup heavy cream

3 cups grated Gruyere and Parmesan cheeses 

slivers of chicken and cheeses.Make the crepes. 

Cook chicken:

Bake or poach chicken and cut into thin slices. I baked the chicken topped with bacon in a 325 oven for about 40 minutes. 

Make the crepes:

Sift flour and salt together. Beat (or in blender) eggs, butter and one cup milk until very smooth. Add more milk until the mixture is the consistency of thin cream. Cover and let rest for 30 minutes. Brush 6" crepe pan with butter and put on medium high heat until a drop of water skitters, but butter does not brown. Pour in 3 tbsp. Batter and quickly rotate pan to cover the bottom with thin, even layer. Pour any excess back into batter bowl. Lightly brown underside, carefully turn over and brown other side. Remove and place on wax paper. Lightly brush pan with batter for each crepe.

Crisp the bacon:

I collected all the bacon from the chicken breasts and cooked it in a pan until crisp but not burned. When cool, crumble by hand.

Make rich Bechamel sauce. Bring milk and onion to boil, remove from heat and let stand for 10 minutes. Melt butter in heavy saucepan, stir in flour over low heat. Cook and stir about 3 minutes. Stirring constantly, strain in milk until sauce boils. Lower heat and cook, stirring frequently, for 20 minutes. Season with salt, pepper and nutmeg to taste. Mix a little sauce into egg-cream mix then pour into sauce, stirring until thickened. 

Put it together. Lay a slice of chicken on each crepe, sprinkle with 3 tbsp. Grated cheese, top with 2-3 tbsp. Sauce and roll up in crepe. Arrange crepes side by side in a flat, buttered baking dish, spread remaining sauce on top. Bake at 300 degrees for 15 minutes then broil to lightly brown top. Garnish with bacon and cheese slivers. Freezes well.

A Magical Place

I keep forgetting that God created a magical place called the Internet where I can tell you all the crazy shit that goes down in my life and you can chortle and get back to reading porn.

Monday: 

woke up, damnit, it's Monday. This week is going to suck.

Day reliably sucked. Clients: crazy. Work: busy. Word Twist: sub-par.

Editing document written by septuagenarian who has risen to a startling level of business without the ability to create a noun-adjective-verb sentence.

Tuesday: 

woke up, damnit, Jac got a ticket for an expired sticker on his car.

He could not remember to deal with stupid sticker in entire month of March because everyone in the fricking world was having a medical emergency and needed him!

Client moves deadline up 10 days.

Wednesday: 

woke up, damnit Citibank what do you want? Oh, 5 days late, eh?

See, Citibank sent Jac a new card last month when they had a shocking security  breach and they just thought it'd be safer to send him a new card. Naturally this new card was not hooked up to our electronic billing thingamagig, thus we got no bill. 

Thursday: 

woke up, damnit, it is just going to keep sucking for the foreseeable future isn't it?

Spilled my second choice soda all over my second choice handbag.

Noticed dog pee on freshly cleaned sisal rug. Do you know what it's like to clean a sisal rug?

Client loses mind.

Husband makes me dinner and takes me to get mint chocolate chip ice cream which also happens to be free. - Wait! That didn't suck! That was very good! That was excellent a step toward this week not sucking...maybe...

But I know something about tomorrow...it's called Good Friday, that's something, right?

Dogz Rulz

As rule-based people go, I am probably pretty up there. Someone offered me the vacant men's room while waiting in a long ladies' room line this weekend and I declined - just wouldn't be right. I think there should be a website to out restaurants that cheap out by using Sysco's generic ketchup instead of Heinz. I don't step on the cracks. I am an awful liar too.

We set out for the dog park on the most glorious of days. It was the first real, "Yeah you should wear shorts today" day. Jac was in a great mood. The dogs were ready for some serious frolicking. We unleashed Kirby and he darted up to a plain beige dog. Naturally he put his mouth all over him.

The dog mom went completely postal, "Oh my God," she wailed, "she's been bitten!"

Now I'm going to digress all over the fricking place. Because there are some people who maybe should not be taking their dogs to the dog park. They should especially not be doing that on the dog park equivalent of Black Friday. At one point I saw an interaction between a dog and a stroller that resulted in the dog owner saying she was, "So sorry!" to the stroller owner (it was occupied) who replied, "Hey, the stroller's in the dog park." She got it, it is the land of dogs. The dogs are there to be dogs. Unfortunately, there are others who take the park's posted name "Dog Exercise Area" to mean that the sole purpose of visiting the park is "dog exercise". They are the ones who sniff at any dalliance between dogs. They fail to return the friendly glances you give them. I'd like to accuse them of being the non-scoopers too but that probably falls into another parchatype. 

So when I approached the beige dog and it's delirious owner, I laid my hands on her (the dog). The woman was pointing to three spots of slobber on her dog. I looked at them and felt them and as gently as possible showed that there was nothing there. She huffed and she puffed and she hauled her dog from the park.

Suddenly though, I felt we were the ones who didn't belong. Kirby broke the rules. Not by actually hurting another dog or by being aggressive, but by making an owner uncomfortable, which made me uncomfortable. In fact, the beauty of the day melted away. I was filled with venom for what had just happened. Yes, our doofus "developmentally delayed" dog made a mistake darting up to a dog and slobbering all over her. Yes, we've tried to teach him that sometimes the dog owners don't take it well. Our doggy shrink pointed out that the dogs don't seem to think he's any sort of threat at all. It's the equivalent of the seedy guy in the club shadow dancing behind the cute girls until their friends notice and get her out of the situation - tacky but not reason to be put to sleep.

After scolding Kirby in a animal behaviorist-approved manner, we walked around for a long time. Slowly, the venom began to drain and the color of the day crept back in. I got to tell the story to other wheaten owners and they provided all the stranger approval a girl could ask for. So, after a good long time at the park, we indulged Kirby in his greatest love plunging in the water with dogs.

There must be something in the water, because there Kirby is transformed. He is confident and the ultimate BMOC. He plays beautifully, fearing no dog. He runs with the pack. He bounds through the water. He is free of all the crazy dog park ladies and scary dog park men with deep voices. That's him, second from the right, center of the pack.

My Bare Apple Trees

This weekend we planned to visit Gettysburg, PA around a memorial service being given for the father of a co-worker in a neighboring town. I hoped we could sneak in a little mini-adventure. I found us a dog-friendly hotel and had started packing on Monday. The dogs knew there was a trip in the car!!!!! Sorry, but our dogs use a lot of !. 

On Friday I went out for a couple of errands when suddenly there was such a clatter I arose to see what was the matter. Oh sorry, actually there was an OMG stabbing pain in my back below the ribs. Could it be...a kidney stone? But I gave the union the weekend off! So I called my doc and they scheduled a CT scan for mid-afternoon. I cancelled our hotel. The CT showed nothing. It is super duper frustrating when you spring for the pricey radiation and it says you're crazy.

I took my meds and sure enough the next morning even my body was saying there was nothing wrong. We hopped in the car and headed up to rural Pennsylvania for the memorial service. It was beautiful. The reception after was huge. It was clear the man was widely cared about. We stopped for lunch in Frederick, MD, though it turned out neither of us was up for a sightseeing day. We had lunch at the blandest most incredibly average Mexican restaurant in all of north-central Maryland. We got home to our dogs and they had left us a colossal but not their fault mess. (The kind that requires washing two area rugs.)

Exhausted, we collapsed into our tv zones.

And then, yesterday morning, early, I went out to get the paper. That's when I discovered that the two Obama magnets on the back of my car - the ones that gave me a sense of pride and joy every time I saw them while unpacking groceries for the last nine months or so, were gone!!!!! See, now the dogs have me doing it.

My mind reeled - did it happen here? In rural Pennsylvania in the parking lot of the Evangelical church? On the streets of Frederick? Was it someone I know or a stranger? Oh it was infuriating. We're pretty sure it wasn't here since Jac's car was parked 5 feet away and did not suffer the stripping.

So the bare apple trees are fitting for today. I'd hoped to take a heap of photos this weekend, but ended up with just a couple, and open-toe heel-clad feet were coated in cold oozing mud in the endeavor.