Valentine Cuisine

 

Our Valentine’s Day festivities were just as dull as they usually are. And we’re just fine with that.

          Elbowing our way into a restaurant jam-packed with people determined to have a romantic evening is not our idea of a fun time. So we exchanged cards and small gifts and stayed in and dined well at home.

          Shrimp cocktails out on the porch, and a breakthrough dinner. Breakthrough because for the first time in over a half-century of cooking, I cooked tenderloin filets.

          Up until now, it’s been my Yankee aversion to buying meat that costs $29.00 per pound, coupled with the fear that I might screw it up.

          But thanks to a friend who provided her even-a-moron-can-do-this recipe, it was a wild success. And yes, I know I could have done a red wine reduction sauce or added sauteed mushrooms, but the goal was the smallest amount of effort that would produce the greatest reward.

 The downside is that it was so easy, this could mean more pricey meals in our future.

Fuzzy Memories

 If one purpose of a blog is to record events and memories from our lives, it occurred to me that perhaps I could list all the animals from my life.

Snippets

 

Yup, still here. And it’s not as though there’s been such a cavalcade of events that I’ve been too busy to post. Although there was that thrilling trip to Costco to re-stock our Glucosamine, and perhaps I could have written about how often I’ve been out to sweep the common hallway due to all the leaves blown in by the wind.

 

     

    

We did see a production of Christie’s “The Mirror Cracked” in Sarasota. It was a bare-bones set, but the cast was good.

On a trip to the ladies’ room I was most impressed by the creativity of whoever does
this sort of thing at the theater itself.

Oh, and the next day’s review in the paper left me grinding my teeth. At a dramatic moment in the play, a huge stage light (it was probably cardboard – the real thing would have left a hole in the floor) crashed down in a murder attempt. The little chippy who wrote the review pointed out that in the 19^th century such lights didn’t exist. I’m not sure what century she thinks she’s living in, but Christie wrote in the 1920s. Editors, where are you?

 

On a walk around the complex, I usually pass someone out with their dog. The other day I ran into a gentleman whose dog I recognized, a tiny white poodle. “That’s Lucy, isn’t it?” It was, and we chatted a bit while I patted her. I noticed she had on a tiny harness I hadn’t seen on her before but didn’t comment on it. The harness proclaimed her to be a ‘Comfort Dog’.

First, I doubt if it was necessary. Residents of our little complex are unlikely to interfere with her onerous duties as a comfort dog.

Secondly, do others see the label and wonder what it is about the owner that requires the emotional backup?

A neighbor I spoke to about it snorted and said, “Fake. They just have that so they can take the dog wherever they want.”

 

Last night I put the chicken casserole (fabulous recipe from Peg Bracken – chicken, artichokes, mushrooms) in the oven at 325 instead of 375 and we headed to the beach for sunset.

The gulf is only about 4 miles away, so we could leave at 5:40 for the 6:15 sunset. After the chilly weather we’ve had, 60 degrees felt balmy. Except the already windy conditions intensified as usual on the water, and I found myself wishing the stupid sun would hurry up and clunk down like a cartoon.

Incredibly, there was actually someone out there paddleboarding.

 

Almost parallel universes

 

          Here we are in the ‘sunshine state’. And sunshine we’ve got- plenty of it – but last night’s forecast included snow for parts of Florida.

Familiar Skills

          Last night was dinner out – not in an exciting-culinary-kind of way, but just a gathering of fellow residents contributing to the meal.

          I didn’t have much else going on, so I decided to make bread.

Holding Pattern

        I should be writing. Scads of time, but I’ve only achieved seven chapters so far and the procrastination is growing by the day.

Snowfall to sunset

        I remember Mama recounting tales from the days when we lived in Amherst, Massachusetts. I was barely there, being only two. My father was teaching at University of Mass – Poly Sci I think – but only briefly, before we all moved to Arlington, Va. after he was hired by CIA.