Monday, warm, dry, puffy clouds, slider

Despite dragging fatigue, side effects of the allergies and the allergy remedies, I managed to change the bed and do the laundry, now all away.  

I wasn't up to anything much physically, other than falling asleep whenever I sat down, so I wrote the day off for walking and exercising.

The deck was lovely, all kinds of birds and insects and this accidental art which looks like an impressionist setup, the dappled shade and the multiple patterns 

Then while I was reading Trollope and resting my eyes, Michael the artist -contractor came over with the renovated base cabinet and the slider he built.

Tomorrow he'll install it, and I can stop working out of a crate of baking gear. It's beautifully finished, refurbished drawer now sliding in and out smoothly, I'm just very happy with it. What an improvement on the old cabinet. 

That geared me up to making a plum crumble using all the rest of the plums. The crumble is oatmeal, some of which I ground to flour, some I left as is.  Drizzle of molasses over the top. Usual nutmeg, cinnamon, butter, salt in the crumble. In the fruit there's cornstarch to thicken it, lemon zest, cinnamon, no sugar, I like it tart. 

And here's the cook's first taste. With Greek  yogurt and a sprinkle of sugar. 

He also brought a new set of locks, plain brass finish with keys. No codes and videos and Benny Hill music.  He'll install them Tuesday.

Foyle is now working for MI5 and still trying to retire to Hastings to go fishing. Some wartime colleagues show up in new secret jobs, and if they didn't shoot so many scenes in near darkness I'd manage to follow it better. 

Most of the secret men are in raincoats and hats, I have no hope of knowing who's who. But it's still good watching, including the terrible cardigans women were wearing, and austerity shoes. Women in their twenties looked about fifty in those big felt hats, designed to repel boarders.  

This was before the New Look came in, when skirts became long, bodices were fitted, and women looked pretty good if they could save the coupons to get a new outfit, big if at that time, clothes rationed for years.

The puzzle is still in the box. Maybe Tuesday.

Happy day everyone, don't worry if the puzzle's still in the box. To every puzzle there is a season or something.

Plum crumble, plumbing and democracy

 Yesterday I did make the, drum roll

plum crumble, first helping served here, cook's privilege, with yogurt.  I used a Martha Stewart oat crumble recipe for the topping, and macerated the plums according to Rose Levy Birnbaum, with sugar, salt, ginger, lemon zest and cinnamon.

Whenever Handsome Son makes it over here to celebrate today's birthday, this is part of it. I have to put it in the freezer, after I took a helping over to Gary last evening, so that there's plenty available for Handsome Son.

Then, today already stressful, Handsome Partner's anniversary, the kitchen decided to take my mind off it. While I was making tea for breakfast,  after I'd rinsed dishes, I heard a weird dripping sound. Looked under the sink and the cabinet was filling up with water.  Oh. 

Gary came over, diagnosed that it  didn't need a plumber, it was running through the bottom of the disposall he would get a new one later this morning, and install it. He doesn't trust me to buy the right thing, which is probably wise. Also kind.

So the current state of the kitchen. The cabinet is mopped up and cleaner than in years, and I'm doing dishes in the downstairs bathroom. 

About democracy, we're all counting on Ohio voters, some of whom are blogistas, to vote NO on the one proposition on the Ohio ballot today. This is an attempt to raise significantly, to 60%,  the percentage of votes required to place any public question on the ballot going forward. It's a referendum on referenda. 

There are other state elections today, and, as always, we need to do whatever it takes to locate our polling places and vote. And remember if you're already in line when the polling place closes, you can not be turned away, no matter what anyone says, or how eager the officials are to get home.

Vote suppression has been happening for years, even in this bluest of states. Usually it's been busted, like the Trenton (State capital) voting official who, a few years ago,  "accidentally" moved 35,000 votes from our democratic House  incumbent to an unheard of right wing opponent, giving the win to the right winger. Briefly. In two days it was exposed, the official no longer worked there and the right winger vanished, never heard of since.

A few years ago I went to vote, same district, same candidate running for re-election, found my regular polling place closed, door locked, no flag raised. This was two hours after the polls were supposed to be open, meaning early commuters couldn't vote on the way to work. 

It's in a school building, and schools are open here in election days, civic lesson for kids,  also a  great chance for a PTA  bake sale. So I marched into the school office and demanded to know what was up. The flustered lady in the office ran through the building to alert the poll watchers that they needed to get moving. After I explained that my next call was to a judge to report this lawbreaking, that is.

They opened up, ran up the flag, and said oh we didn't realize, etc. I explained I could still file a complaint, and they practically waited on me hand and foot. They do say that this kind of blunder can be ascribed to incompetence rather than malice. But this is a small town and these guys had been working polls for years, and I voted very pointedly, and they were on notice. Never happened again. They know me too!

I do wonder though if they hadn't had the fear of judges put in them, how many votes in this very blue, very foreign-born district they would have succeeded in suppressing.  Worth fighting for. After what I went through to get the vote, don't get between me and my ballot!

 In other news, Handsome Partner has been gone twelve years, or maybe that's minutes.

Happy day, everyone, also happy birthday to Handsome Son, he really is, now mid fifties. It's strange to see your son going grey, but I'm so blessed to have a son who's a friend. 

This is a poignant day chez Boud.

Freezer brag and upcoming days

 Yesterday I did it. Emptied the chest freezer, de-iced it my way. I never do that open the drain, catch the water thing. I just chip gently then finally lever huge sheets off using a spatula. It's very pleasing.

And the result is in fact a lot more room inside there.

This situation was helped by making several bags of stock material and reducing them to stock ready for soup

 Likewise the fridge freezer. I seem to have found a lot of outdated items. I did keep one container of dye, black walnut, because the nuts are much less plentiful at the moment.

I found one new situation, about making yogurt. The old fridge ran very warm on top, perfect for proofing bread and making yogurt. The new one works better, and the top is cool. Not good for yogurt 

The stove is electronic ignition, no pilot light. The stove light is led, doesn't emit heat. Oh. So I set the stove at its lowest temp 170°f, a bit high for leaving  all night, set the yogurt jar wrapped in its usual emergency blanket, turned off the stove after a couple of hours, left it shut all night. And this morning I got pretty good yogurt. 

All this is displacement activity because tomorrow is a doubly significant day. Handsome Son's birthday and Handsome Partner's twelfth anniversary.  

We celebrated HP on his birthday in June, so whenever Handsome Son is free, he'll let me know, we'll celebrate his birthday. I did a chocolate cherry cake for HP, so I won't repeat. I think a plum crumble is the plan.

 I'll bake it today and it will freeze till needed. 

A handmade card, a hand signed check (!) his usual birthday gift, and I think he'll be happy. He's getting to the age where you're less thrilled about each successive birthday, I notice.

This morning recalls to me the long ago final ob visit, where he declared at least a week to go, baby's head not engaged or even close. Yeah. Water broke that evening, sudden emergency situation, nemmind the details, but nobody got any sleep that night. 

We all survived to tell the tale, though I was too weak to hold my baby, couldn't lift my arms. The nurse held him to me instead. He was fine! So happy though, such a rush to meet this lovely little boy who'd been kicking my ribs mercilessly for months.  Starting as hyper as he went on! Fittest member of the family. 

Happy day, everyone, especially August birthday people, you Leos! Here's birthday flowers for you

Blessed cool

 Temperature in the 70s, cloudy, wonderful.

When you see headlines like this do you feel as if you need a calculator to find out where it came out? 

This is how lawyers who know the backstory write. The rest of us struggle. How many negatives make a positive. What made the chicken cross the road, and was there an injunction in place in the junction?

In the rest of the news, this is all your doing, Ellen, I ordered a used silk sari, half-price in an Etsy sale. Figuring on maybe glam pajamas. Using the pant pattern.

This was after staggering  in sticker shock at fabric prices. Long time since I bought fabric,  clearly. I could get beautiful natural fabric at Dharma Trading, very reasonably, but it's white or natural or black. I fancied a jazzy readymade print.

My other trouser fabric source plan is a big size skirt from the thriftie once I get in there again, already washed so it won't shrink. We'll see what they have.

Meanwhile back at the stove, Handsome Son was visiting today, so we needed snacks.

Black and red plum crumble, with maple syrup in the crumbly bit. 

The top picture includes my lunch, top right, a test run for a new invention.

No idea what to call them, suggestions welcome. Same old dough, now my all-purpose material. Good for tortillas, the original idea, for pasties, for crackers with herbs rolled in, and now Tiny Veggie Pies.

I think I could make beads with this dough. Seriously, I might try it. 

Ages ago I made Tiny Apple Pies using wonton wrappers. So this dough seemed like a candidate for that shape, too. Couldn't find any cutters so I used a wine glass.

Stuffed with the roasted vegetables and hot sausage, sealed with egg white I had in the freezer in case I ever found a use for it, brushed with same. 10 mins at 400°f.

Gone in short order, once introduced to Handsome Son, who declared them potpies and very good. I thought it would be good to have a nonsugar item for once with our tea and dessert .

He changed a lightbulb for me too, one of those high up ones in the bathroom I could climb up to but better not.

And we discussed his current soldering experiments on a diy electronic music thing he's building. Our experience intersected in wire and soldering, mine from long ago, art not electronics. 

He's deep into the kind of from-scratch music player  creating that nobody would pay you to do nowadays.  Which he patiently explains to deli colleagues wondering why he's not working in that industry and earning millions!

Frankie and Grace. I watched the first half of season one, and I think I'm done. Just couldn't go on trying to enjoy it. Too fake, too fifties, too Hollywood Gets With It. But I gave it a fair try. 

I continue to be engrossed in the latest Stacey Abrams, While Justice Sleeps. She's a terrific writer, great suspense, knows her stuff, being both politician and lawyer, both fields starring in this novel of suspense. 

Probably F and G suffered from comparison with Abrams'  excellence. This happens sometimes when you experience an okay work along with a wonderful one. Everyone doing their best. One's a swing and a miss, in its genre,  one's a home run, bases loaded, in its own genre.

Moving along, I'm thinking seriously about those beads. Or miniature teacups and saucers. This musing led me to search for this, made from a similar dough I made, nearly fifty years ago

Small apple included for scale. Made and painted  by six year old Handsome Son. The kitty doesn't need to rest on the saucer, she's balanced to crouch alone. You just slide the saucer under her chin.

The fact that I found it among my most valued jewelry tells you all you need to know! 

 

Plum crumble

All the recent Misfits plums went into this crumble. Two kinds, black and red. Could be any fruit, I just thought plums would be good.

I take an extra step when I do fruit crumble, macerating. It's a process that drains the juices and flavorings from the fruit. 

You can see the juices collected in the bowl after about 45 minutes of resting tossed with molasses, white sugar, ginger, lemon zest, salt and a bit of cornstarch.

You drain off the juices and see how much you've got, put the fruit in the baking dish to wait.  

Then you reduce the liquid to about half its quantity, just swirling the pan, not stirring. 

There's some technical reason, which Rose could explain, for swirling not stirring. It involves sugar crystallizing on the pan. But I feel so authentic doing the  swirling that I'm happy feeling like a real cook without remembering the details of why.

When it's reduced and a bit caramelized, pour it over the fruit, then add the crumble part and bake covered about 30 mins at 375° f.

Then uncover it and bake another 30 minutes. At this point the house is smelling amazing.

And you try to wait patiently till it's cool enough to try.

Some will probably find its way next door.

Martha Stewart is the source for the crumble part, Rose Levy Beranbaum for the macerating process. She literally wrote an encyclopedia of baking, so anything she says is probably going to work.

She also endorses using glass pans for this because it looks nice. If you don't have any, another container would be fine. This one can come to the table, though, and people start enjoying it even before they're served. Around here, anyway.

And I think the difference between prepping the fruit like this and not doing it is so great that you may as well do it.  It goes from nice to blast-of-trumpets good. So do it! 

And the glass pan is your ta-dahhhh! Put it on the table first, then throw your arms up like Simone Biles. Except gymnasts call it the present, not the ta-dahhhh.