Eating the Opponent – Detroit

Amigo is a news junkie and a very creative young man. We’ve put him in charge of most of the research needed for our Eating the Opponent Packers Series. The other North Central Division teams make this a challenge because the Packers play them twice a year. I should have said AT LEAST twice a year, that is, because there’s always the possibility of a grudge match meeting in the wild card games.

Well, back to the question. Green Bay plays Detroit on Sunday. Amigo suggested we bounce off of the topic of Detroit’s bankruptcy and serve pork and beans, Depression style. Hm. Must think on this. It could work. Maybe.

I’ll let you know.

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Ah, the harvest.

I’m bringing in tomatoes and peppers every day, but I’m still watering the plants left behind because they’re still producing (quite a bit of) fruit.

I’m pruning the tomato plants so the water and sun can go into the leaves and stems that are still growing and still producing. Meanwhile, I’m searching for a source that will sell me garlic bulbs to plant now. Now, I tell you. Not next May. And since no one in town seems to carry garlic for planting, I’m reduced to ordering online.

I’m also cleaning up some of the container gardening. The flowers are gone to that great compost bin, the potting soil is piled in a corner of the plot behind the garage, and the empty drawers that played host to impatiens all summer now sit under the mock cherry tree. If the drawers survive the winter, I’ll plant in them again. If they rot, they’ll go in the garbage.

We’re giving thought to getting a sunlamp for the herbs that winter indoors. There’s never enough sun, even though the shelves sit in a window bay with Southern exposure. The thyme and oregano struggle through the season until it’s time to put them out again in spring. Last year the thyme and rosemary didn’t make it; basil was hopeless. If we provide artificial lighting, we’ll have fresh herbs for cooking all winter and strong plants to move outside in the spring. Worthwhile, we think.

The office slash guest room is taking shape. We can almost use La Petite’s old closet as our own, thanks to purging for the August garage sale. We found a daybed at a reasonable price, and we may buy it later this week.

As long as the weather holds, I will keep at the garden tasks one week at a time. When the first true killing frost shows up in the forecast, any tomatoes large enough to ripen will come indoors. Now that, my friends, will be a picture to behold.

Readers, let me know. How are you handling the autumn season? Any plans for next spring, or is it too early?

 

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Food Reality Shows vs. Kitchen Reality

Actual (almost) conversation while watching a cooking show

Daisy: those are really random ingredients for the mystery box. It’s almost like real life. It’s almost like  — a pantry raid!

Chuck: That’s it! The real working mom’s Mystery Box is the refrigerator!

We discussed the funny options on a true to life reality show. The chief cook and bottle washer comes home from work, has an hour to make supper, and in the refrigerator he or she finds… what?

I’d look to the table, which is so covered with tomatoes that we have to clear space in order to set out the plates. Peek into the meat drawer, check out the bread rack – yes! BLTs!

But what about sides? There’s a half-empty jar of tart applesauce. And those carrots – no, we still have a rabbit to feed. Ah-ha! I pulled a banana bread out of the refrigerator last night to make room for some frozen corn. BLT, applesauce, and banana bread. And at the risk of overdoing the tasty fall harvest theme, rhubarb-apple crisp for dessert.

I skipped the applesauce. I’d already had some for lunch.

And then, just because I could, I made a batch of sourdough bread in the bread machine. Yum.

Eat your hearts out, Food Network. Don’t get too jealous, but my kitchen is where the real Master Chefs hang out, and we know our mystery boxes.

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Ducks and Fish

Chuck said he was glad he didn’t catch a duck. I thought, What? You went fishing, dear darling husband. Fishing with Amigo.

It seems a small family of rather assertive ducks chased after his line and stole the worm right off the hook.

Hungry Ducks

Hungry Ducks

They decided to move to a new location. There was a rails to trails bridge nearby, a space that had been railroad right of way until recently. Now it’s part of the Ahnapee Trail and will eventually connect with the Ice Age Trail. For now, it’s a good place for fishing.

Amigo fishing

Amigo fishing

Amigo wasn’t the first to find this bridge and decide it was the perfect place for fishing. A quick search found historical record of the same bridge more than 100 years ago.

Old Postcard

Old Postcard

The rest of the story is this: they brought home perch for supper.

They walked in and I asked if they’d already cleaned the perch, since I honestly don’t know how to clean a freshly caught fish for cooking. Amigo stated firmly, “The perch is already cleaned. It’s cleaned, Mom. Don’t worry.” Something in his voice clued me in, though, told me there was more. “Um, did you catch the perch or buy it?”

Darn, I wish the fishmonger’d had duck, too.

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Scavenger Daisy

I’ve talked about curb-picking. I’m not a full time full strength make-the-rounds dumpster diver, but once in a while something turns up on a curb and calls my name.

I don’t like to waste leftovers. If the leftovers are food in my own refrigerator, they’re likely to become part of a pantry raid. If the leftovers are food sitting somewhere else, it’s harder.

Last June I staked a claim for leftover tomatoes and onions after our big school picnic at the amusement park. Someone on staff has been pooped on by a gull the last two years running, and – but that’s not suitable for mealtime conversation. Sorry. The tomatoes and onions were clean.

I rescued the leftover tomatoes and onions that were originally destined to top sub sandwiches and brought them home. They slid nicely out of their trays and into my crock pot.

Soon to be Sauce!

Soon to be Sauce!

I added fresh oregano and simmered the lovely mix overnight. The next morning we had tomato sauce, made from scratch from scavenged leftovers. Three containers of sauce, in fact. That’s quite a pantry raid for the last day of school.

And now, with the school year beginning, who knows what kind of scavenging might occur? Readers, you’ll find out here.

Oh, readers? What kind of luck have you had scavenging, food or otherwise?

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To Discount or not to Discount?

This is an encore post appropriate for the back to school season. I might print the flyer sent out through school email and try for the discount again this year. 

I noticed a Walgreens store across town with a sign advertising teacher discounts on Wednesdays in August. I had a shopping list ready, so I decided to try out the store closest to my home, conveniently located on my route to and from school. First, I looked at their sign to see if they were advertising the discount deal.

Hmmm. Maybe not. Is this the advertising equivalent of the blank stare? So I waited a moment, and the sign changed – to this.


I took a chance, went in anyway, and filled my cart. Discount or not, there were many good advertised deals on my list. With a cart full of contact solutions, shampoos, hearing aid batteries, and buy-one get-one vitamins, I proceeded to the checkout with my teacher ID in hand and a question on the tip of my tongue: “I saw the sign on another store in town. Are you also offering the teacher discount?”
Remember the blank stare in the first picture? It was mirrored on her face. “Uh– I don’t know. I’ll call the manager.” She did, the manager said yes, so the clerk sent me to the correct register for specials like this and paged the other clerk, who joined the Blank Face Brigade as she started up her register. “Uh – I don’t know. I’ll call the manager.” This call included, “How do I ring this up?”
In the end, I did get the discount. Lack of knowledge aside, the store clerks were helpful and willing to ask, and the manager was willing to guide them through the process.
I didn’t mention the signs. I thought they had enough on their minds.
Update: This year, Walgreen’s might be targeting a different crowd. As seen on Facebook:
'Nuff said.

‘Nuff said.

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Sale here!

Rummage!

Rummage!

Some signs are simple. Rummage Sale! We rummaged through our belongings so you can rummage through everything we don’t want!

Garage!

Garage!

Don’t be fooled, folks. In our part of the country, this sign doesn’t mean the garage is for sale; it means everything IN the garage is for sale.

Details! Details!

Details! Details!

This sign hopes to attract people who need to buy clothes for their daughters and granddaughters and friends’ daughters. When La Petite was young, I would have gone directly to this sale and left the others for later.

This one, however, says it best.

Now that's a lot of rummage!

Now that’s a lot of rummage!

Folks, one reason I’ve been away is that we are having our own sale through the weekend. The weather forecast threatens to put our sale into the No Power Zone, but we’re ready. Heck, if the neighbors will make coffee on the camp stove again, life will be just fine.

 

 

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Art in the Park and the Garden

We are fortunate to live near a sizable park in the center of our fair city. This park plays host to a number of events, public and private. Family picnics, outdoor church services, 5K run-walks, and more take place here, about half a mile from our home.

One such event is Art in the Park. Participating artists show and sell their pieces all day. Food trucks set themselves up nearby and prepare for hungry crowds. Every year we go, and every year we see something wonderful. This year was no different.

This year's theme: ceramics

This year’s theme: ceramics

Art has value as art, and art can be practical and useful, too. I treated myself to a spoon rest for the stove – blue like my kitchen, and decorated with daisies, of course. Of course! The other pieces are ceramic stakes to label my herbs. “Chuck” has been asking me to label them for years because he gets rosemary and thyme mixed up (parsley and sage he can handle). These little stakes are beautiful, practical, and add a little art to the herb pots on the deck.

Oregano!

Oregano!

Rosemary!

Rosemary!

Thyme in a bottle!

Thyme!

The final purchase was, typical of my shopping prowess, a purse with Hmong needlework. It sort of matches my wallet. Well, maybe I should just say it coordinates with my wallet, another needlework piece.  Hmong work is detailed and colorful with repeated shapes and patterns. I wanted this one on sight.

So folks, here it is: Daisy’s visit to Art in the Park. Not shown: lunch, snacks, and gift(s) for family members who may read the blog. Giggle. 

Art in the Park goodies

Art in the Park goodies

The kettle corn in the back was fabulous. Nothing from the microwave can even come close. Even the foodstuffs were works of art.

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When the going gets tough —

When the going gets tough, the tough

  • go shopping
  • get going
  • take naps
  • get frugal
  • get on Pinterest

Lately, I feel like when the going gets tough, I get cooking. Or baking. Or preserving, canning, freezing, drying.

My minivan threw us another curve this week. After a second estimate, a compromise on the paint job, and a little readjusting of schedules, we had a plan.

And I went outside, cut a big batch of chives, and put them in the oven on low heat to dry.

Coping skills vary from one person to the next, one family to the next, even from one region to the next. If I’m preserving some of what I’ve grown, it means cooking from scratch will be easy and inexpensive come winter. Chives may not seem like a big deal, but putting them up for the winter makes me feel like I’m making a contribution.

Next up: oregano.

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Curb Pickers in Minivans

Topped with a basket ($1) at a rummage sale and a hanging pot from a previous year, you see my garden table. We, and by we I mean me and my dear darling husband “Chuck”, found the table at curbside after someone moved out. Yep: a curb picked gem.

Handy Dandy planting table

Handy Dandy planting table

Sometimes I resist. I left a stool that almost matched one in our basement and didn’t pick it up. I did stop, I admit it. The stool stood on the curb with a pile of scrap wood. On one piece of wood was a sign saying, “FREE: Measured once, cut twice.”

Right now, the only things turning up curbside are branches. I think I’ll stay home.

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