ginosko

To which I've added plagiarism, it would seem.

This week has indeed been horrible, mostly through no fault of my own, but rather, in large part to other people not doing their jobs. Tonight's initial decompression plan includes a tub full of bubbles, a large glass of wine, an interesting book and Beethoven turned up loud. Simultaneously.

There are a few cheerful things today, though:

1. Lychee fruit. A bowlful of round, lumpy things is sitting in the office kitchen. A coworker's family runs an Asian grocery/deli, and she had brought these little beauties in for us to try. Think of them as grapes on steroids, with really, really bumpy skin and a bleached interior. The outside skin looks tough, but peels easily. The long brown seed in the center should not be eaten, but the white flesh around it is delicious. The flavor is grape-like, but much sweeter, with a little tang of peach flavor. They are ugly-cute and wonderful.

2. M & Ms. I had the forethought to pack a container of M & M's to bring to the office today - if there was ever a time for self-medicating with chocolate, it is now.

3. A quiet house. While there are often times, particularly on Saturdays, that the landlord's family is not home, there is a much different feel to the house when I know they are out of town. No that I'm going to have a wild party or anything. It's just nice to know I'm alone in the house. Well, except for the people who come to feed the cat, who come at all hours and stay inordinately long.

A hat tip to Melissa, who in turn found this via Kim.

I've been uneasy about some of the statements the esteemed senator from Illinois has made about himself for a long time, and hearing that he intended to make a speech in Germany (Just exactly why is a presidential almost - but not quite yet - candidate making a speech in a foreign country? Last I knew, the Germans didn't vote in our election. It's not like posing in front of the Brandenburg Gate (which the Germans - wisely - are not going to allow him to do) is going to give him the foreign policy experience he lacks; the only thing it could (and probably will) do is set him up as the second coming of Jack Kennedy. Which, to Democrats, is probably more powerful an image than the previous one touted by the media - that Obama is the second coming of Christ.)

Sorry for the ramble - too doggone early to be thinking politics.

The cooler weather brought with it a desire for home-cooked food. It's been a few years since I've made a particular childhood favorite - Anchovy Bread.

Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like: a flat round loaf of bread, cut crosswise and filled with pieces of anchovy fillets and Parmesan cheese. What can I say - my sister and I were introduced to the wonders of anchovies before we were old enough to say "yuck - furry, salty fish!". In fact, we used to beg to eat them straight from the can.

The last few years, however, it's been more difficult to get the supplies. Hot roll mix (boxed, not frozen dough) is almost impossible to find. Pillsbury does make one - it can be used for pizza crust, rolls and cinnamon buns. It is (relatively) less work than making the bread from scratch, as you don't need to measure out any dry ingredients. You still need to control the temperature of the water, knead for a bit, let it rest and give it a half hour to rise after you form the loaves.

Maybe it is easier to make it from scratch.

The official recipe from my grandmother's hand-typed recipe book:



I use much less oil and more cheese. There is a variation on this - if you are into artery-hardening. You follow the basic dough recipe, but when the loaves are done, you coat the cut surfaces with 1/2 cup of melted butter, and spread with 3/4 cup of ricotta cheese.

One more hot-roll-dough recipe is in the book - this for fried dough. Prepare the dough as explained above, but after punching it down, pinch off small pieces and fry in hot oil. Roll in sugar when cooked.

Personally, only the anchovy bread variation has survived my taste changes into adulthood. I took a quick peek at my bread, which doesn't seem to be rising very well.

I may end up making the bread from scratch, after all.

The FBI National Academy Associates are having their national conference in Milwaukee beginning Friday. A co-worker friend's husband has been through the training, and is on the organizing committee for the conference. Consequently, she's been drafted to chair the committee organizing activities for spouses and kids; it's a very family-friendly conference/training/vendor show.

My co-worker has arranged private tours of the Art Museum, Discovery World and the newly-opened Harley Davidson Museum, as well as a trip up to Bayshore for shopping and recreation. All in all, it sounds like a lot of fun. Except for Friday, when some storms are predicted, it appears the weather will cooperate and show our visitors how nice living here can be.

*Wisconsin is one of only two (or four - I couldn't find a definitive answer just now) states that do not have a provision for concealed carry of firearms by any persons but law enforcement officers. Granted, we have enough deer rifles to arm a battalion or two (or many, many more - we sold over 600K hunting licenses last year).

For the past few days, I've had a craving for smothered chicken with barley. It's a great dish - chicken thighs, tomatoes, barley, green pepper, lots of onion and a ton of spice. I managed to forget, however, that it takes an hour of simmering, once the chicken and veggies are browned. Bummer. I worked late today, so I'm not eating dinner until after seven. After I finish this post, as a matter of fact.

While it really is a winter dish, it certainly will hit the spot.

Smothered Chicken with Barley

1 teaspoon ground cumin
3/4 teaspoon chili powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon dried mint flakes
1/8 teaspoon garlic powder
1/8 teaspoon ground red pepper
6 each chicken thigh -- skinned
1/2 teaspoon canola oil
1 1/2 cups onion -- chopped
1 cup red bell pepper -- chopped
1 tablespoon low sodium soy sauce
3 1/2 cups chicken broth
1 1/4 cups uncooked pearl barley
14 1/2 ounces diced tomato -- drained

Combine cumin, chili powder, salt, cinnamon, mint, garlic powder and red pepper in a small bowl. Rub chicken with half the spice mixture.

Heal oil over medium-high heat in a large nonstick skillet coated with cooking spray. Add chicken; cook one minute on each side or until chicken is browned. Remove chicken from skillet.
Recoat skillet with cooking spray; add onion, pepper and soy sauce. Cook over medium-high heat until veggies are lightly browned. Add broth, barley, tomatoes and remaining spice mix and stir well. Bring to a boil; add chicken, reduce heat and simmer about 55 minutes, until barley is tender and chicken cooked.

Personally, I double the amount of the rub - this really isn't enough to cover the chicken well. It does, however, add to the spiciness of the dish. I also use boneless chicken thighs rather than bone-in; I make enough of a mess eating that I don't want the added aggravation of bones.

The suburbs around Milwaukee, like those everywhere, have been slowly expanding over the years. My route to church each Sunday takes me through the heart of the oldest suburbs, to the near fringes of the outer edge of the expansion. I pass the biggest mall in the city, huge shopping plazas and apartment/condo developments before reaching the area where houses are a bit more spread out and one can spot an occasional field of undeveloped grass.

The line of demarcation between the two is fairly clear; up to Rawson Avenue, things are pretty congested; afterwards, retail establishments disappear and the houses are further apart. Just south of Rawson the road also narrows from two lanes each direction to one.

I'm tooling along this morning, practicing pronunciation of French greetings along with a CD, wondering if the car in the lane to the right of me is going to try to merge in front of me before the road narrows, when the car directly in front of me swerved over into the right lane. Once he was out of the way, I could see why: a flock of twelve to fifteen geese occupied the left lane and the median, and were clearly not interested in moving. I hit the brakes and just sat there laughing for a minute. The geese stood there, not looking at what little traffic there was, not picking at any road kill, just...stood there.

I had almost forgotten this encounter with fois gras on the hoof webbed foot, but on the way home, the second course presented itself. It looked as if something round was sitting near the right edge of the road, right in line with the passenger side wheels of the car. I moved over a bit - the last thing I need is a flat tire - and then started laughing again. A fairly large turtle was hotfooting (as much as a turtle can, anyway) its way across the road. I didn't stop to ask why.

All that's left for the day is to spy a deer in someones backyard.

Well, almost - I suppose I do have to work the remaining five hours and fourteen minutes of this day. This is one of the most stressful weeks of the year (the next two will also deserve that moniker) and it is wonderful to see it end. So we can come back fresh next week. Erg.

That said, there are definite plans to relax this weekend. Our little group of card sharks is getting together tonight for dinner and some games. Pam is planning on putting some shish kabob on the grill - yum. Her plans to move to MO are shifting a bit, which could be good news for me personally (because, yes, it's all about me and I was hating the thought of my best friend being so far away - sue me).

Early tomorrow morning, I'm planning to take myself to Panera for some much-needed study/journaling/staring into space time. If I have to solve one more person's problem/fix one more person's stupid mistake/deal with one more person's "crisis" (that is always self-created) I'm going to be forced to do that person serious harm. The rest of the University doesn't seem to understand that for our office, year-end is not a single day, but a two-month long journey through the depths of auditor-infested hell. It's not that we have any issues with our accounting, rather, we are understaffed at the best of times, much less when we have the added burden of an audit to prepare for.

I love my job.

So - solitude-in-the-midst-of-a-crowd time Saturday morning.

Afterwards, I'm off to help Karin with her sequel to last weekend's rummage sale. She's determined to have another one, monsoon or shine. Did I mention that our weather forecast for today and tomorrow includes heavy rain and severe storms much as we had in June? She lives on the Root River Parkway...I may need a boat to get to the sale.

After that, the weekend is a blank slate. Laundry, grocery shopping and cooking will all be accomplished. The mountain of unsold stuff in the living room will be scaled. Or at least relocated. I may even do some sewing. Better yet, some napping.

The State Fair starts two weeks from now. I'm toying with the idea of going to see Jeremy Camp on Tuesday night. I'm sure I won't need to actually go to see the Charlie Daniels Band on Saturday - they'll be loud enough to be heard all the way at my house. I need to decide if I'm going to do the annual office cream puff run; the woman who used to do it was let go last August, just before the fair, and I filled in. Have you ever tried to fit three dozen softball sized cream puffs (packaged very neatly, four to a cardboard box that has a stand-up handle) in a Civic? If I do it this year, I'm emptying out my entire trunk and putting most of them there. At least if I use the trunk, all the spilled powdered sugar will be out of sight.

Fun fact from the Fair website:

"Corporate delivery is provided by Bell Ambulance for orders of ten (10) dozen or more. "

!!!!!

Um - butter, flour, eggs, real whipped cream, lots of powdered sugar...

Yes, these cream puffs are worth it.

...best line in an article about buying shrimp off the back of a truck

Got this from a (very) Italian friend at work.

42 Things in the Life of an Italian Child

01. You have at least one relative who wore a black dress every day for an entire year after a funeral. I stayed away from those women - they scared me.

02. You spent your entire childhood thinking what you ate for lunch was pronounced "sangwich."

03. Your family dog understood Italian.

04. Every Sunday afternoon of your childhood was spent visiting your grandparents and extended family. For the first five years of my life, we lived in a cottage behind my grandparents' house - every day was Sunday.

05. You've experienced the phenomena of 150 people fitting into 50square feet of yard during a family cookout. That's not normal?

06. You were surprised to discover the FDA recommends you eat three meals a day, not seven.

07. You thought killing the pig each year and having salami,capacollo,pancetta and prosciutto hanging out to dry from your shed ceiling was absolutely normal. (Wow, that's really Italian!)

08. You ate pasta for dinner at least three times a week, and every Sunday, and laughed at the commercial for Wednesday is Prince Spaghetti day. Not pasta - macaroni - see #38.

09. You grew up thinking no fruit or vegetable had a fixed price and that the price of everything was negotiable through haggling.

10. You were as tall as your grandmother by the age of seven. I'm not sure it took that long. I have a cousin who is 4'11".

11. You thought everyone's last name ended in a vowel.

12. You thought nylons were supposed to be worn rolled to the ankles. No, silly; just below the knee.

13. Your mom's main hobby is cleaning. For a real-life, contemporary look at what is expected of an Italian woman's cleaning ability, check out Jen's blog. I can't find the post right now, but an Italian study found that women spent an average of 21 hours per week cleaning, whether or not they worked outside the home...I'd say I take after the paternal side of my family in the cleaning stakes, but that side is German. I guess my cleaning habits come from some bad blood centuries ago.

14. You were surprised to find out that wine was actually sold in stores.

15. You thought that everyone made their own tomato sauce. The first time I bought Progresso, I felt as if I betrayed my heritage. It really doesn't take that long to make sauce from scratch.

16. You never ate meat on Christmas Eve or any Friday for that matter. We must have been heathens - Christmas Eve was always salami and meatballs in sauce.

17. You ate your salad after the main course.

18. You thought Catholic was the only religion in the world.

19. Your were beaten at least once with a wooden spoon or broom. Urr, yes.

20. You thought every meal had to be eaten with a hunk of bread in your hand. And don't forget every cup of coffee - bread was meant to be dunked.

21. You can understand Italian but you can't speak it. My grandfather spoke in a mix of Italian and English, but we always knew what he was saying.

22. You have at least one relative who came over on the boat. My grandfather arrived at Ellis Island in 1914. My grandmother was the youngest in her family, and the only child born in the U.S.

23. All of your uncles fought in a World War. My uncle was in the navy just after Korea ended. My grandfather fought in WWI, for the Italians (arrived here, then went back to Italy to join up).

24. You have at least six male relatives named Tony, Frank, Joe or Louie. Prudence seemed to also be a family name (including my poor mother, who changed it as soon as she was legally able).

25. You have relatives who aren't really your relatives. Doesn't everyone?

26. You have relatives you don't speak to. Oh yeah.

27. You drank wine before you were a teenager.

28. You relate on some level, admit it, to the Godfather and the Sopranos. My mother is obsessed with the Mob. Me, not so much.

29. You grew up in a house with a yard that didn't have one patch of dirt that didn't have a flower or a vegetable growing out of it. My grandparents' little (city) yard had plum trees and grapevines.

30. Your grandparent's furniture was as comfortable as sitting on plastic. Wait!!!! You were sitting on plastic.

31. You thought that talking loud was normal. Shouldn't this read "talking out loud to yourself"? But yes to the loud - that may be why I;m generally the quiet one now - I could never get a word in edgewise without shouting.

32. You thought sugared almonds and the Tarantella were common at all weddings. Gosh, I hate those almonds.

33. You thought everyone got pinched on the cheeks and money stuffed in their pockets by their relatives. Pinched, yes; stuffed with money, not so much.

34. Your mother is overly protective of the males in the family no matter what their age.

35. There was a crucifix in every room of the house,.

36. Wakes would be held in someone's living room.

37. You couldn't date a boy without getting approval from your father.(Oh, and he had to be Italian.) Thank heavens my dad was German. But oddly enough, two cousins (the daughters of my only uncle) did both marry full-blooded Italian men.

38. You called pasta "macaroni."

39. You dreaded taking out your lunch at school.

40. Going out for a cup of coffee usually meant going out for a cup of coffee over Zia's house. My mom had a couple of spinster cousins - I absolutely hated going over there. There was nothing appropriate for an eight year old to do for a couple of hours, and there were breakable thingees on every flat surface.

41. Every condition, ailment, misfortune, memory loss and accident was attributed to the fact that you didn't eat something.

42. Those of you who get this...KNOW who to pass it on to!