Author Archives: kzmclain

Busy Being Dizzy

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Getting old is not for wimps. That’s what they say, and they speak the truth. Our bodies, which have served us so well for all of our formative years, start thinking of ways to betray us as we age.

Easy on the complaining, however, because for the most part I’m as healthy as a horse. But even a horse gets aches and pains sometimes.

So a week ago, in the middle of the night, I rolled over in bed, and suddenly the world started spinning. It continued throughout the night, but only for a few seconds and only when I rolled over. When I awoke and got out of bed, I was fine, so I assumed I had been dreaming. However, as I leaned over to wet my hair in the sink, the spinning resumed, but again, just for a few seconds.

I immediately diagnosed myself with a horrible and incurable disease, though I had no clue what disease it would be. The always calm and sensible Bill suggested that I Google “vertigo when I lean over.” His practicality can be such a relief to me sometimes. And yet so annoying.

Because you can find anything on the Internet, I immediately learned that there is a condition that is fairly common to people as they age (!!!!!!!) called Benign Something Something Vertigo (BPPV for short because the condition actually doesn’t have “something” in its name). It has something to do with crystals in one’s inner ear breaking loose and rolling about, causing vertigo when you turn a certain way. Really?

I spent the past week waiting for the vertigo to cease. That didn’t seem to happen, so Monday morning I called a family physician whose office I had recently spotted, and saw him yesterday morning. He walked into the room looking at my chart, and said, “I understand you are having some vertigo.” I said yes, and explained my symptoms. I cheerfully told him, “But I got on the Internet and have diagnosed my condition.” You can watch their eyes roll.

“Well, what do you suppose you have?” he asked. (That’s a quote.)

“I have BPPV,” I said.

He begrudgingly acknowledged that he agreed with my diagnosis. He did a couple of tests to rule out anything worse and just to show me he actually is smarter than me, gave me a sheet with some exercises that I need to do for the next week, and sent me on my way. Really, what does he care? I’m insured.

But whoever heard of anything like this? Each and every day, our bodies find ways to pay us back for all of the abuse we gave it over the years.

It is my sincere hope that next time I see any of you, I won’t be walking sideways.

In celebration of my learning that I didn’t have a deadly illness, I invited my niece Maggie and her family over for fried chicken. Maggie is a week-and-a-half overdue having her baby, and isn’t particularly happy about it. I presumed, correctly I think, that cooking wasn’t something about which she was terribly enthusiastic. She’d rather concentrate on getting into and out of a chair. And she loves my fried chicken.

When I fry a chicken, it is a given that I serve it with slow-cooked green beans and Swiss macaroni and cheese. I think I have talked about this macaroni and cheese before. My Swiss grandmother made them. My mom made them. Now I make them. They never had a name. We always just called them macaroni, as in “we’re having macaroni for dinner tonight.” We all knew what that meant as it was the only way we had macaroni. Since I occasionally make traditional mac and cheese, I have taken to calling it Swiss mac and cheese to differentiate.

A few years ago, to my surprise, Food Network Chef Melissa D’Arabian made something she called Macaronade as part of a French meal she was preparing. It was my grandmother’s recipe, or at least a variation thereof. In all my years, I had never imagined that it was something with a name. Anyway, here’s Melissa D’Arabian’s recipe, with my changes below.

Macaronade

Ingredients
2 tablespoons butter, cut into small cubes, plus more for greasing
8 ounces macaroni
Kosher salt
1/2 cup shredded Swiss or gruyere cheese
1/2 cup beef broth
1/4 cup seasoned breadcrumbs
Freshly ground black pepper

Process
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a gratin dish.
Cook the pasta in salted water according to the package’s instructions for al dente. Drain and toss with the cheese and beef broth. Place the pasta in the gratin dish, and top with the breadcrumbs, sprinkle with salt and pepper and dot with the butter. Bake 15 minutes.

Nana’s Notes: Here’s how I do it: Cook the macaroni according to directions. Drain it, and begin layering it in a large bowl with the shredded Swiss cheese (a lot of cheese). I don’t use any beef broth. Put a plate over it so the hot pasta can begin to melt the cheese. In the meantime, brown breadcrumbs in 3-4 T butter. Place the breadcrumbs on top of the macaroni/cheese mix. Put it in the microwave for a minute to help the cheese along. Serve. I never think about putting it in the oven, though I’m sure that’s delicious. And of course, my grandmother didn’t have a microwave. She may have placed them in an oven for a few minutes. They are really delicious if you like Swiss cheese.

Fiddle-dee-dee, Rhett Butler – Tamale is Another Day

Posted in Meat Dishes, Recipes by

I have already mentioned that I am obsessed with tamales. I’m going to have to stop writing about them, however, because I’m running out of clever titles. Let’s face it, “tamale” really doesn’t sound that much like “tomorrow” so I’m going to have to KNOCK IT OFF.

However, last week, I actually was able to get my hands into the masa and make them myself – with a little help from my friends. Well, quite a lot of help, actually, but then it wouldn’t have been a quote from a Beatles’ song.

Four women, none of whom has a lick of Hispanic blood in her, spent most of a day working on a large batch of tamales – some with meat, some with cheese and roasted corn. I think we did a fine job if I must say so myself. Bill, a beneficiary of the resulting tamales, agrees.

My friend Andrea has made tamales before, and she led the effort. In fact, when I arrived, she had a lot of the work done. She had already prepared the masa and the meat for half the tamales. Well, to be perfectly clear, she wisely left initial masa preparation to those who have a little more time and experience – a local market with a tortilleria. Just the right amount of lard must be added to the masa – and knowing just how much comes with experience. “You can feel when it’s ready.” But she added a bit of the chili flavoring from the meat into the masa that was to be used for the meat tamales to add color and some flavoring. To the masa that would be used for the roasted corn, chili and cheese tamales she added a bit of creamed corn. Yum.

Andrea used beef because that’s what the store recommended. Actually, when she asked the butcher what kind of meat he recommended, he told her, “tamale meat.” Hmmm. Not particularly helpful. After talking to someone who spoke and understood a bit more English, she was led to what actually was labeled tamale meat (so there!), and what turned out to be beef. It worked.

Andrea prepared the meat much as it dictates in the recipe below. She used avocado oil as a wink to the Mexican culture and some ground cloves since she knew they were used in mole and it sounded good to her. It worked. Andrea used pasilla chiles and guajillo chiles.

Andrea, Bec, Sandra, and I took turns spreading the masa on the softened corn husks, filling them with meat, wrapping them much the same way that a mama wraps a baby’s bottom, and tying them up with a piece of corn husk. One tie for the corn, chili, and cheese; two ties for the meat. It helped us keep them straight.

Frankly, some of the tamales’ appearance would have made a Mexican mother weep, but overall they were magnificent. Sandra was the very best at spreading the masa like a pro. Mine were a bit lumpy. Bec was a tamale filler extraordinaire and Andrea had the tedious job of tying the knots.

Andrea had borrowed a tamale pot – an enormous pot that puts my canning pot to shame, like a bully on the playground. It has a rim near the bottom on which a rack sits. The bottom of the pot is filled with water, and the tamales are placed open side up on the rack above the water and steamed for about two hours until the masa is set.

While we waited for the tamales to steam, we ate lunch. Andrea had made a delicious Mexican soup filled with veggies, and a scrumptious avocado salad loaded with lots of fresh lime. Quesadillas completed our lunch. We talked kids, grandkids, books, cooking, and travel. The others besides myself were all teachers, so we talked a lot about educating our kids. Well, they talked; I listened and missed my grandkids, as usual.

The experience was one I won’t forget. Bill asked me if I would try it on my own. I will definitely try it, but not on my own. As Sandra put it, “I don’t think I know anyone who makes tamales alone. It is definitely a social thing.”

Isn’t it true that so much of cooking and childrearing and homemaking is done with a group of women friends? Really, women should run the world. Individually, we’re powerful; as a group, we are unbeatable.

As were these tamales.

The following recipe is verbatim from The Arizona Republic newspaper. The comments are not Nana’s.

Red Chile-Beef Tamales

Cook’s tip: Making tamales is a slow, tedious process. Spread the making of the tamales, the center of Southwestern holiday celebrations since Aztec times, over two days. Make the red-chile beef one day and assemble tamales the next. If you prefer pork, substitute a shoulder roast for beef chuck.

For red-chile beef or pork:
2 pounds beef chuck or pork shoulder roast
Salt and pepper to taste
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
Water
2 onions, peeled and sliced
1 head garlic, cloves separated and peeled
4 ounces dried New Mexico chiles
2 ounces pasilla chiles
2 tablespoons cumin seed
1 tablespoon salt

Season meat with salt and pepper. Heat a large, heavy pot over medium heat. Add oil, then brown meat on all sides. Once browned, add water to cover the roast. Add one slice of onion and 6 cloves of garlic. Cook until meat is tender and falls apart easily, about 2 hours. Remove meat and shred by hand. Reserve the broth.

To prepare the sauce, place New Mexico and pasilla chiles in a large stockpot and cover with water. Add cumin seed and remaining onion slices and garlic cloves. Boil 20 minutes, until the chiles are very soft. Drain mixture (reserving cooking water) and allow to cool. Mash the chile mixture and place in a large mixing bowl. Slowly pour in about 1/4 cup of chile cooking water. Use a blender or food processor to puree the chiles until smooth. Pour pureed chiles through cheesecloth to strain out the seeds and skins. Pour the sauce into a large bowl and add salt. Add the shredded meat and mix thoroughly.

For tamales:
3 dozen corn husks
4 cups masa
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 teaspoons salt
2/3 cup lard
To make three dozen tamales, soften the corn husks by soaking 3 dozen in water. Next, combine masa, available at most grocery stores, with the baking powder, salt and lard. Mix, adding more lard if necessary to form a paste the consistency of peanut butter. Then add half a cup of juices from the cooked meat.

Drain the corn husks and select the largest ones. Place the husks, smooth side up, on a flat surface or in your hand. Use a tablespoon to spread the masa almost all the way to the sides of a husk, and near the top where it will be tied or folded. Leave a portion at the bottom half of the husk uncovered.

Spoon a tablespoon or two of meat in a narrow band across the masa. Leave at least a 1-1/2-inch border on the pointed end of the husk, and a 3/4-inch border along the other sides.
To fold, begin by tucking one edge of the husk, then roll. Then fold the empty bottom half of the husk up against the rest of the roll. Tie tamales with a string of corn husk, or use the masa to “glue” the tamale to prevent it from coming undone.

Place the tamale, flap side down, in a steamer basket or tamale cooker. Fill the bottom of the pan with water. The water level should be below the rack. Stack tamales on top of one another. Steam the tamales for 2 hours or until the masa seems fairly firm inside the husk. Replenish boiling water if necessary.

Tamales are done when the husk peels away easily. Serve immediately, or freeze and then reheat in a steamer pan or microwave.

Makes 36 servings.

Nana’s Notes: Andrea didn’t soak her corn husks; she boiled them until they were soft and pliable. We kept the husks in the hot water as we worked so they wouldn’t dry out and become unworkable. She also said she tried the whole squeezing the pureed chiles through cheesecloth and it was really, really messy. She elected to leave out that step, and the result was just fine.

Orange You Glad You’re a Bronco Fan?

Posted in Cocktails, Desserts, Recipes by

I had grand plans to blog about my experience making tamales last week, but that must wait because I’m still on Cloud 9 about the Bronco victory! I have a happy victory hangover and can only think about orange and blue today.

Maggie and Bec came over to watch the game with us and I served my orange and blue food. I made my nephew Christopher’s salsa (See my blog post “Hot Stuff” in October for recipe) and served it with orange Dorito Nacho Chips and blue tortilla chips. Very festive. Slices of orange pepper and baby carrots offered a healthy choice. Our Blue Margaritas were delicious as well.

Just a quick word about my orange and blue dessert – Blue Velvet Cupcakes with Orange frosting. They were scrumptious, no doubt about it. They are basically the traditional red velvet cake, but you color it blue instead of red. It is difficult to find food coloring these days in the traditional primary colors. Grocery stores only offered pastel colors, and only in gels. I was able to find royal blue, violet, and orange at Hobby Lobby in the cake decorating section, also gels.

Well, anyone who has worked with royal blue food coloring gel knows – as I learned – the blue color is insidious. It was everywhere – on my hands, on my feet (??????) all over the countertops, in my sink, on my cabinets. It seriously looked like I had sprinkled blue food coloring gel like a priest sprinkles the congregation with holy water. I’m sure I will find it for days to come. Orange seemed less messy (or maybe it just blended).

I will have to come up with a dessert alternative for my big Super Bowl party (to which you are all invited).

Except, what if it was those cupcakes that made the Broncos win? Hmmmmmm. I might have to give one up for the team.

Here is the recipe for Blue Velvet Cupcakes, from bakefrostrepeat.com (she credits Sprinkle Bakes and One Particular Kitchen)

Blue Velvet Cupcakes

Ingredients
2 c. sugar
2 sticks butter, room temperature
2 eggs
1 T. cocoa powder
1 T. royal blue gel food coloring
1 small dab violet gel food coloring
2-1/2 c. cake flour
1 t. salt
1 c. buttermilk
1 t. vanilla
½ t. baking soda
1 T. vinegar

Frosting
4 oz. cream cheese, softened
¼ c. butter, softened
1 7-oz. jar marshmallow cream
2 c. powdered sugar
1 t. vanilla

Process
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Prepare cupcake pans with paper liners.

In a mixing bowl, cream the sugar and butter, mix until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, and mix well after each addition. Mix cocoa and food colorings together to form a paste, and then add to sugar mixture; mix well. Sift together flour and salt. Add flour mixture to the creamed mixture alternately with buttermilk. Blend in vanilla. In a small bowl, combine baking soda and vinegar and add to mixture.

Pour batter into cupcake papers. Bake for 25 – 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Remove from oven and cool completely before frosting.

Frosting: Combine ingredients and spread on cupcakes.

Nana’s Notes: The cupcakes are dense, not fluffy, just as is a red velvet cake. Next time I will make my frosting a darker orange! By the way, the cupcakes turn your tongue blue. It goes away. Insidious. What can I say?

United in Orange

Posted in Appetizers, Cocktails, Meat Dishes, Recipes by

United in orange….that’s the apparent catch phrase encompassing all things Broncos in Colorado these days preceding the AFC Conference Championship game tomorrow.

And while I love being here in Arizona during this really nice winter weather, I am sad that I’m missing all of the Broncomania taking place over our state this week. Thank you Peyton, and all of your cohorts who clearly know what “Omaha Omaha” means. We all speculate. In fact, Peyton gave a very funny interview at which he was asked what Omaha Omaha means. With a completely straight face, he gave a roundabout answer that basically said, “Are you serious? Do you really think I’m going to tell you what it means?” Click the link to see the interview.

For my part, we both have Denver Bronco shirts that we will wear on Sunday, we have been happily displaying our little Bronco garden flag in our front yard, and, if possible, we will find a way to fly our great big Bronco flag on Sunday.

I’ve been trying to think about things I can serve to whomever shows up at our front door to watch the game with us. It must be orange and blue. That’s a given.

Here’s a couple of ideas:

Queso Dip with Blue Corn Tortilla Chips (from CHOW.com)

Ingredients
4 c. grated extra-sharp cheddar cheese
1-1/2 c. grated Monterey Jack cheese
1 T. cornstarch
¼ c. milk
1 c. minced onion
1 4-oz. can diced green chiles

Process
Place cheeses in a large bowl, sprinkle with cornstarch, and toss to coat.Transfer cheese mixture to a large saucepan and add milk. Set over low heat and cook, stirring occasionally, until mixture is smooth and melted, about 10-15 minutes.

Stir in onion and chilies with reserved juices until well combined. Serve with blue corn tortilla chips and various raw veggies.

Grilled Chicken Wings (from Allrecipes.com)

Ingredients
2-1/2 lbs. chicken wings
Salt and pepper
2/3 c. Frank’s Hot Pepper Sauce
1/3 c. melted butter
Pinch of cayenne pepper

Process
Season chicken wings. Grill the chicken wings over medium heat for about 10 minutes on each side. In the meantime, melt the butter and mix with hot sauce and cayenne pepper. Dip wings in the sauce and serve with celery and blue cheese dip.

Blue Margarita (from About.com)

Ingredients
1-1/2 oz. tequila
1 oz. blue curacao
1 oz. fresh lime juice
Orange slice for garnish
Salt for rimming

Process
Pour all ingredients in a shaker with ice. Shake and pour into a margarita glass rimmed with salt. Garnish with an orange slice.

In the meantime, Bill and I (and anyone else watching the game on Sunday with us) will be filled with hope. Go Broncos. Bill and I are United in Orange even though we’re 900 miles away.

When the Moon Hits Your Eye Like a Big Pizza Pie…

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Yesterday morning, my college-age niece Jessie represented our family well when she made this simple declaration on Facebook: Name one thing that’s better than pizza. Frankly, there weren’t a lot of other ideas. Most everyone loves pizza.

Our family has a thing for pizza. Bill’s family is the same way; perhaps that’s why we’re soul mates. He and I even agree on the kind of pizza we like – thin crust, red sauce, cheese and sausage. That’s it, Amigo. (Except when I am trying to eat healthy and have a veggie pizza. Then mine includes red onion and hot pepper rings. Don’t they look good?)

Now, when we are in Italy, it’s a different story, but that’s because the pizzas are different there than here. In Italy Bill almost unfailingly ordered prosciutto and arugula. My Italian pizza of choice was diavola – spicy salami. We have tried Roman pizzas and Napolean pizzas. People from Roma and Napoli each believe their pizzas are the best. I think they both rock. Italian pizzas are individually-sized, stretched to odd shapes, and baked in a wood-burning pizza oven at 700 degrees or so. The dough bubbles and browns; there may or may not be a sauce; the crust is thin; the pizzas are served uncut, and eaten with a knife and fork. No neat slices.

When we traveled in Italy with my sister and her daughter a number of years ago, we were having lunch outdoors at a restaurant near the Victor Emmanuel Monument in Rome. We were novices about Italian pizza at the time. Such novices, in fact, that Bill and I ordered one to split and Jen and Maggie ordered one to split. Split? Seriously? We immediately recognized the error of our ways and never made that mistake again. One pizza is just enough for one person. We also ordered wine, and much to our surprise and chagrin, the waiter opened the wine and tossed the cork into the street! Litterbug. He didn’t seem concerned.

Maggie worked at a locally-owned Phoenix pizza restaurant called Oreganos for many years, including during the summer when she wasn’t teaching kindergarteners. Oregano’s pizza is delicious – thin crust (they serve a deep-dish, but in my lowly opinion, deep-dish pizza isn’t really pizza; it’s a casserole), with delicious ingredients. She loves Oregano’s Pizza so much that she suggested it as a first date for her now-husband. Perhaps it was the touch of Italian seasonings and the red sauce that made her so appealing to him.

My sister Bec prefers Grimaldi’s Pizza for many reasons, not the least of which is that, while there is one very near her AZ house, the original is under the Brooklyn Bridge in Brooklyn, NY. She has one very funny memory. She and her husband were at the Brooklyn Grimaldi’s where they enjoyed a pizza. The restaurant was very busy, and just prior to leaving, she used the restroom. When she was finished, she found her husband waiting outside. They proceeded on with the activities of the day. Later that evening, her husband asked her, “How much was our bill at Grimaldi’s?” With horror, she exclaimed that she thought he had paid the bill. Yes, folks. My sister-who-looks-innocent-but-is-really-a-thief walked out of Grimaldi’s without paying her pizza bill, and, thankfully, without being carted off to Rikers Island.

Years ago, my brother used to go to a pizza place that has since gone out of business. We were with him one night when he ordered his favorite – jalapenos, sauerkraut, and anchovies. I’m not making this up. The pizza makers actually came out of the back to see who had ordered this pizza. Not many pizza places offer sauerkraut, so he is limited now to jalapenos and anchovies. Oy vey.

I asked my nephew Erik about his favorite pizza joint, and he said it’s a place in Chicago recommended by a buddy. I asked him the name. “Hmmm,” he said. “I can’t remember. It was one word, a man’s name.” Thanks. That narrows it down to a few thousand. When asked if the pizza was thin crust or deep dish, he replied, “Thin crust. Deep dish is just lasagna.” Ah, a man after my own heart.

As for me, my favorite pizza (and I think Bill’s as well) is a local pizza joint located on the south side of Chicago called Fox’s. It’s got a thin crust (it’s a south side thing) and the homemade sausage and cheese and red sauce are scrumptious. When it’s served to us, there is a thin layer of grease on the top – a sure sign of a tasty pizza. We spend much of our life trying to find a pizza to compare since we don’t live in Chicago, and are largely unsuccessful. Oregano’s is close. Fox’s is the first place we stop when we visit his mother who still lives in the Chicago area. Sometimes before we see her. Shameful.

I wondered if there was a recipe to include in a post about pizza, but it occurred to me that really, pizza isn’t something I would make at home very often. If I want pizza, I go out. That is, until Bill chooses to build the wood-fired pizza oven in the back yard that he dreams about. It could happen.

Ciao.

Glorious Days

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Since I haven’t been an AZ winter visitor for that long, it’s hard to know if there is “typical” January weather. I asked one of my nephews if the weather thus far is typical, and he said there really isn’t such a thing as typical January weather. It can be really chilly or it can be really nice.

What I will tell you is that thus far this Arizona winter has been magnificent. I don’t think the weather during the day has been lower than 65, and mostly it’s been in the high 60s to low 70s. It cools off at night, getting into the 40s. It has even hit 38 or 39 at night. I have, er, I mean I choose to turn on the heat first thing in the morning to just get the night chill out of the house.

Last January, we spent the first couple of weeks covering our more delicate (read: hibiscus) plants at night because it got below 32 a few times. We were not successful at saving them, and finally decided – since that brought our total hibiscus loss to 4 or 5 – to forgo purchasing more hibiscus even though we love them. They just don’t do well here. We thought we lost our bougainvillea last year, but take a look at this:

Native Arizonians say you can’t kill a bougainvillea. I think that might be true. It is in full bloom right now.

And just for kicks, here is the rosemary bush Jen and I planted when we first bought our house back in 2010.

We got it as a little 2-in plant at the grocery store. It clearly likes the Arizona weather and it’s sunny southeastern location in the yard.

I can’t wait until the mornings are a bit warmer so that we can take our coffee out onto our patio. And it does get nippy just as soon as the sun goes down. But boo hoo, right? In the meantime, I am glad that for the most part our friends and family in Colorado are having reasonably nice weather, at least now and again. I am sorry for our family in Vermont who pretty much never have nice winter weather, but I reckon they are used to it. And “nice winter weather” is a subjective phrase, no?

It is proported by our enthusiastic television weather folks that it will reach 75 or 76 the rest of the week. They stuck a cloud in tomorrow’s forecast, but I think that’s just to get us excited.

I miss the Bronco excitement that is undoubtedly taking place in Colorado, but we have our little celebration going here too.

Maybe I’ll dye my hair orange.

I was going to make a stir fry tonight, but decided the weather was too nice to not grill outside. So I will rub some olive oil on four chicken thighs, season with salt and pepper, squeeze some lemon over them, and grill them for 40 minutes or so. I will serve them with my stir fry vegetables and call it dinner.

I’d Rather Be Playing Pickleball

Posted in Main Course, Meat Dishes, Recipes by

Monday is grocery shopping day for me. It’s not a particularly good day for this activity, because the stores are all out of product following the busy weekend of shopping by those who work for a living. So Monday it’s just the retired set. Me included. The store shelves are bare and I know they will be bare, but I continue to shop on Mondays. There you have it.

I’m a fairly loyal Kroger shopper. King Soopers in Denver; Frys here in AZ. No particular reason other than I’m used to their brands and their prices are within reason. Not Walmart prices, but need I say any more about Walmart shopping?

The nearest Frys to our house, a couple of miles from here, is located in an area that is surrounded by park model communities. Now, prior to moving to AZ, I don’t believe I had ever heard that term – park model. In fact, the first time I heard the term was at my neighborhood nail salon, when a pleasant retirement-aged woman asked me if I lived in a park model. My sister Jen happened to be visiting, and we looked at each other with deer-in-the-headlight eyes. “I’m not sure,” I told the woman. “I don’t think so. What is a park model?”

Well, she clearly lived in a park model, and was quite put out with me. I don’t know if she was frustrated at my ignorance or annoyed that I didn’t live in one. She never bothered to explain the term to us.

For your information, park models are what we might call manufactured housing back in Denver. They are RV-like, but more permanent. They generally sit on some kind of a foundation, and are connected to utilities. And they are uber-popular with the over-70 community here in the east valley, and for good reason. They are inexpensive, offer recreational activities, and because they generally are part of a large over-55 community, provide immediate friends. Personally, I like my neighborhood where I can hear children playing, but God made us all different and I’m not judging.

All this is to say that shoppers at this particular store on this particular day of the week are almost all retired folks. Again, me included. But I differ from the majority of these undoubtedly very nice people in one way. I am shopping alone. Almost without exception, shoppers here are a team – husband and wife. Bill rarely shops with me, and never when I’m doing my weekly grocery shopping. He might accompany me on a Walmart run, but he will check out the auto parts or the sporting goods while I get whatever I came to buy. And personally, I’m very happy to have him not included in this particular activity, if for no other reason than I can’t bear to see his disappointed expression when I place the vegetarian-fed, cage-free-raised chicken eggs into my cart instead of the ones that cost a buck sixty-nine.

But here’s the thing. Again, almost without exception, the husbands look so darn sad. The wives are showing them the two-pack of Magic Scrubbing Bubbles and, with furrowed brows and frowning faces, are saying, “Weren’t Magic Scrubbing Bubbles on sale at Safeway last week? I think they might be thirty cents cheaper at Safeway” and the husbands SIMPLY DON’T CARE. They want to be back at home playing cards or pickleball with their friends, or, even better, on the golf course. However, they know full well that must accompany their wives to the grocery store to provide transportation and to reach things on the high shelf.

I feel for ya, Guys. And, by the way, thanks for getting that jar of Newman’s Own spaghetti sauce from the top shelf for me today.

I’m continuing to try and eat healthier meals, and found a delicious-sounding recipe in a Weight Watchers magazine. Last night’s dinner!

Beefy Skillet Penne

Ingredients
1 lb. ground sirloin
1 small onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
½ lb. penne pasta, whole grain
2 c. roasted garlic pasta sauce
½ t. dried Italian seasoning
1/8 t. salt
4 oz. shredded Italian-blend cheese, divided
½ c. part-skim ricotta cheese.
Chopped fresh parsley

Process
Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add first three ingredients; cook 5 – 6 min. or until beef is browned, stirring to crumble. Drain well; return beef mixture to pan.

While beef mixture cooks, cook pasta according to package directions. Drain and add pasta to beef mixture in pan. Stir in pasta sauce, Italian seasoning, and salt. Reduce heat to medium.

Combine 2 oz. cheese Italian blend cheese and ricotta cheese in a bowl. Drop by heaping tablespoonfuls over meat mixture, and sprinkle with 2 oz. Italian blend cheese. Cover and cook 5 min or until cheese melts. Sprinkle with parsley.

Nana’s Notes: 6 Weight Watcher Plus points for a serving of about 1-1/3 cups.Very quick to prepare. I almost left off the ricotta cheese, but I’m glad I didn’t. It made the dish for me.

Hot Diggity, Dog Diggity, Boom What You Do To Me

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When I was a small girl, we had a set of World Book Encyclopedias. (Those of you under the age of 30 probably don’t even know what I’m talking about. You probably think I just misspelled Wikipedia.) In one of these encyclopedias, there was a section about AKC-registered dogs. I simply POURED over this part of the book. I learned everything I could about the various breeds. It was fascinating to me. I’m not sure why. At that point I don’t think we even owned a dog. I just was so interested in the different dog breeds.

This interest carried forward to my adulthood. I still am fascinated by dog breeds and how they differ. Each year I watch the Eukanuba Dog Show and the Westminster Dog Show. I love to listen to the moderators talk about what a particular breed should look like and on what exactly they are judged. And I, of course, am always reminded about the hilarious movie, Best in Show, as I listen to the moderators.

This past week I read Rin Tin Tin: The Life and Legend, by Susan Orleans (look for the book review on Friday). For those of you who are too young to remember Rin Tin Tin, he was a German Shepherd that made movies and television programs long, long ago. In this book, Orleans talked a lot about the development of the breed and how the dogs bred to be show dogs look different than a regular family pet. As I read this, I again began thinking about the difference in dog breeds. I decided then and there that attending a dog show was on my bucket list.

Well, why wait for the Westminster Dog Show? I googled and learned that there was a dog show right here in the Phoenix area this past weekend. I had promised myself adventures this winter. Why not go?

Bill politely told me he would be happy to go with me, but his smile looked faked and there seemed to be what I could only construe to be terror in his eyes and he didn’t show a lot of enthusiasm. My sister Bec, however, is always game for an adventure, and she agreed to go with me to the Great Arizona Dog Show. We went on Saturday.

It was great fun, and here’s some of what I learned.

The people who show dogs (at least the ones at this dog show) were not peculiar or snobby at all, unlike the movie. In fact, they couldn’t have been friendlier to us, and were absolutely delighted to answer our questions and let us pet their dogs.

Each dog owner thinks his or her breed is the best. They’re gracious about other people’s dogs, but you can tell they simply can’t imagine why anyone would want to own anything besides a Cocker Spaniel (or a Newfoundland, or a Beagle, or an Afghan Hound, or a Border Collie).

If you are really in the know, you don’t call it the Westminster Dog Show, you call it “The Garden” as in “We’re sure to take first place at the Garden next year.”

Each breed has a hallmark. A hallmark is the one thing that MUST be present in a breed for it to be competitive. For example, the proud owner of a Newfoundland said the breed’s hallmark is its gentle temperament. If the dog looks perfect, but has a less than sweet disposition, it’s a no-go.

We saw dogs ranging from the tiniest Chihuahua to the grandest Bull Mastiff, and all sizes in between. We saw slobbering hounds, prissy Poodles, and the friendliest little Jack Russell puppies that you can imagine. See?

I can’t help but wonder how the judges, particularly those judging best in show, can compare the different breeds and come up with a winner. By the way, the winner of this particular show was the Pomeranian. A fluffy bit of orange fur if you ask me. Which you didn’t. And why I’m not a judge…..

I’m a Miniature Schnauzer gal myself.

Arf.

Do Not Use Hairdryer While Sleeping

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As we have gotten settled into our house for the winter, it’s become apparent that we have a dire lack of storage, just as many other Phoenicians. It comes in part from the absence of basements. The ground is simply too hard to dig such a hole.

Our refrigerator is fairly small, and filled to the brim with necessary items such as milk and cheese. Oh, and my gin for martinis. Essentials. Our tiny pantry is full as well. I finally determined the other day that, while my pantry is small, I have a considerable amount of counter space. As such, it has become the storage area for my various and sundry breads and chips. But it looks sloppy.

Suddenly, I had the solution. A bread box. They are attractive, there is room on the counter, and the bread, rolls and chips will be stored out of site. So I began looking for inexpensive bread boxes.

My go-to, of course, is always Amazon. They sell everything, after all. Plus, I can use my considerable points from charging too much over the Christmas holidays to purchase on amazon.com. I found a series of them, and then as I usually do, I looked at the comments.

Here is part of an actual comment from the satisfied customer of a particular bread box:

“I was looking for a stainless-steel bread box, and this was the most reasonably-priced version I could find. I didn’t pay much attention to the size, but it’s QUITE large, lol. I was surprised by how big it was, and promptly discovered that I could put not only MY head in it, but my husband’s as well. So keep that in mind.”

I’m not making this up. I simply can’t get rid of the vision of a man and a woman sticking their heads into a bread box at the same time. It won’t go away. It seems to me the chances of them getting their heads stuck into said box seem extremely high.

It made me think about absurd product warnings. Because for every absurd product warning, there was an absurd person who did the exact absurd thing about which we are now warned. My sister has mentioned, for example, that she noticed when she bought a cell phone that there was a warning to not place the cell phone into the microwave. Undoubtedly, someone got their cell phone wet and determined that giving it a little shot in the microwave was a great idea. The explosion and his/her probable subsequent hospitalization resulted in our being warned.

Here are a few more ACTUAL product warnings:

Nabisco Easy Cheese: For best results, remove the cap.

Dremel Electric Rotary Tool: This product not for use as a dental drill.

Auto Windshield Visor: Do not drive with sunshade in place.

Duraflame: Warning, risk of fire.

And my personal favorite…..

Apple IPOD: Do not eat IPOD Shuffle.

And, by the way, the title of this post is also an actual product warning. Sigh.

Have a great weekend.