Carrot Soup

Friends and family tell me I'm a pretty good cook. Sometimes I take stock in this, other times I just think they are fluffing my ego. I've subjected guests to some pretty vial stuff in my time.

The love of cooking came from my mom. She and my aunt's community service consisted of being a cookbook tester for Junior League when in my formative years. It wasn't unheard of for her to spend hours making a meal and then for the family to only give it 4/10. Some meals weren't even fit to give the dog and we ended up having pizza for dinner or going to the country club one awful night of cheese soup that smelled like diarrhea. Others became part of our repertoire. I can honestly say I didn't know the difference between meatloaf and pot roast until I was in graduate school only because we didn't have things like this at our house. You were much more likely to find Mom carefully adding spices to a northern Italian dish or diligently chopping veggies for Hekka (the Hawaiian form of Sukiyaki).

My husband grew up with more American mainstream fare. (Read: plain, simple, pedestrian.) This isn't bad; it just isn't what I was used to. Casseroles, baked meat, plain rice. Wasabi wasn't included in their spice rack. That's all I'm sayin'.

When my father began his exit of corporate America, he would often come home with recipes from the newly encountered Internet. I think he started this just to pass the time in his banal role, underutilizing his talents. He began to take over the chef role and my mom let him have it. Years later, they've found a comfortable rhythm and dance in the kitchen.

Cooking has always appealed to my family. My mom could tell you stories of her grandmother who could turn simple pantry items into a feast. I aspired to be this woman. The meal is central to the time where family joins and shares their day's experiences. Both my brother and I have selected mates who also have this very important value and who also hold their own (exceptionally well, may I add) in the kitchen.

There have been times when I improvise in the kitchen; stray from recipes, prescribed measurements, and stagnant directives. Mostly this happens with sauces and soups. I turn to the kitchen as a creative release. Once I made a soup on a winter afternoon in my art deco apartment in the avenues. I was entertaining a house guest (he was watching sports on tv) and I was trying to suppress Sybil (my alternate personality who only comes out with a vengeance when I'm hungry.) I began to design a cream of tomato bisque, which he gobbled up enthusiastically. Years later he recalled that soup and I was inspired enough to dust off the cobwebs to try and recreate my original design and finally write it down.

This week, Indiana has vacillated between windy temps in the 60's only to be marred back to reality of the -8 wind chill. In my opinion, perfect soup weather. On Monday I finished my day at the hospital and came home to a comatose post call husband. I glanced about our staples and decided I could actually attempt to create something without venturing out to the store. I'll try to make a carrot soup. The results were actually delicious and I thought I would share my creation.

Ingredients:
Butter (about 2 Tbsp)
Fresh Ginger, minced (about an inch or so of root, peeled)
1 sweet onion, chopped

Heat the butter and sauté the onion and ginger (simple enough, right?). Onion should be soft before you add in:

5-6 medium carrots, peeled and cut into coins
1 36 oz of chicken broth

Bring to a boil then cover and let simmer about 30 min. Puree the hell out of the sucker. I use my immersion blender wand (God's gift) or you could do the tedious batches in a food processor or blender. Either way, puree it, by George. By now it should not look like baby food. If it does (and you know that consistency) add more chicken broth. I found I didn't need any more.

Add 1/4 cup of OJ (resist the temptation to add more as you will just have warm oj at this point...el grosso)
A Pinch of Cayenne
A Pinch of Nutmeg
Two dollops of sour cream (I know my measurements are rough at best. Go with what you think would work)

Combine, heat, then season with salt and pepper to taste. I found I only needed a pinch of salt, as the chix broth was enough for me.

Serve.

How easy is that?

The Definition of Irony

Working for a Catholic health care system on a Friday in Lent and not having any fish or vegetarian options offered in the cafeteria.

Duck Fetish

At a local Irish Pub:

J: "You see that one room in there with all the bookshelves? I dream of having a study like that one day. It all goes back to my love of the Scottish isles."

All I can think of is the Sex and the City episode where Charlotte describes her apartment with her first husband as a place where the mallards come to die.

Me: "With the wainscot paneling too?" I finally glanced in to the faux room to see people slurping their Black and Tans by the mammoth dark bookcases cluttered with cheap novels (would have been better with leather bound volumes), a large stone fireplace, and hunting scenes depicted in bad art prints.

J: "Yeah, did I ever tell you about the time when I wallpapered my childhood bedroom with tartan wall paper?"

Me: "If you did I think I consciously blocked it out."

Mallards dying? No, it has now become the Massacre of the Mallards. I can't believe my husband just one-up'd a Sex and the City character...and not in a good way.

Hard Drive Denial

Recent conversation between J and Dr. PDA:

"I don't know what I'm going to do about our computer. I've looked into buying an external hard drive so we can get the files that are still good and back up the lap top, but its not recommended to use for booting up. Then I thought of getting an internal hard drive, but that doesn't solve the back up issue for the lap top. "

"Boy, for a guy going into palliative care you just don't know when to let go, do you? Just get a new computer and let the old one die."

Umpires and Mercury

In astrology, Mercury in retrograde is something that happens 3 times a year and it is a guarantee that things will go wrong. Mostly technology, communications, and travel will just simply go wrong. You may miss your flight, don't sign any agreements, and your gadgets will go kaput. It will also bring stuff from the past. In my personal past, this meant that the old ex boyfriends would resurface. Old issues surface that weren't quite resolved for you...well, its a nice way to say you get to revisit them!!! Oh goody. Since I am a Virgo sun, Virgo moon, and Capricorn rising the Mercury retrogrades reek extra havoc on my life as Virgo is ruled by Mercury. Also this current retrograde is in Aquarius so we are just a bit more defensive of our individuality and opinions as a whole. Yes, this applies to everyone. Apparently this first round of the "divine messenger" planet will go direct February 19th.

As I said, there are some great things that happen as well when we get this retrograde. We finish projects. For example: remember that beer that we began to brew back in April of last year? Well, we finally bottled it!!! Just in time for my husband to now begin fermenting the cider that has been sitting in our garage since September.

However, other bad things happen. J's computer crashed. I mean as in the big bad blue screen of death crashed. Last night he used the very little computer science info he has just to see what parts of the hard drive are completely &*#)$. There's a lot gone. I choose not to get upset about it as its not going to do me any good whatsoever.

Travel plans are also under the domaine of Mercury. If you haven't been paying attention, Kenya is still a mess. I just don't think we're going to get there. (Hear the collective sigh of relief from our parents on this one.) I haven't decided if this is a good thing or not. Often I go back to a story I use on a lot of my clients:

There are three umpires. One says, "I call it how I see it." The second says, "I call it how it is." The third says, "It isn't anything until I call it."

Chicken Little

This morning I woke and found the cheery headline of, "Just Another Horrible Day for World Markets," on my online news service. I read (ok, glanced) the story relating how the European and Japanese markets were just responding to how terrible our own market performed last week. In essence, we suck. Its like despite all of the efforts of the government to stimulate our economy, we still insist that the sky is falling. I really don't think you can spin this, folks.

In many ways it reminds me of why I HATE doing long term therapy with clients. When I was working with substance abusing adolescents it was like watching a giant train wreck coming towards you knowing that there is nothing you can do to stop it. The substance abuse was due to the escape factor of the abusive family of origin and the abuse usually was a product of the parent's own substance abuse which was yet another escape from their childhood abuse. Do you see where this is going? Yup, nowhere fast. Its the chicken and the egg thing all over again. By the time I was finished doing this stint in my career I determined I would rather gouge my eyeballs out with melon ballers or pull my toenails off with dental hygienist equipment than do 50 minute therapy sessions for chronic cases.

Our economy is a chronic case on some level. There are many factors that could be causes or effects: the housing market, the weak dollar, our oil dependence, Bush's politically spun war on terror, the mortgage companies, whoever lowered the lending rate in the first place to entice the mortgage people to give the deals, outsourcing, NAFTA, Greenspan retiring, the Democrats, the Republicans, hell, we may as well throw in global warming, mice nuts, and obesity while we're at it. This isn't "Its a Wonderful Life" where the neighborhood all pitches in to save Bailey's Saving and Loan and someone gets wings. Nope, this is a train wreck and everyone is passing the buck for not figuring out who installed the brakes.

Suddenly Apathetic Discovery/Seasonal Affective Disorder/Supposed to Act Different

Well, its almost 4:00 on a Sunday and I am still in my pajamas. I can officially say that this weekend has been a complete bust. I've spent most of my weekend in my pajamas...which incidentally are just a pair of flannel pj pants I "borrowed" from my husband, an old t-shirt, hospital socks I got when I had my appy 3 years ago, and an old sweatshirt of my Dad's from his shoulder surgery back in 1990. I look stylin'.

As I write this I can hear my Mom's voice in my head remarking, "How depressing! Yuck!"

Well, she's half right and half wrong. Its kind of nice being this lazy and comfortable when you have so much indecision about what to do with the day. I wanted to go see a movie, J didn't as he wanted a more active day. It should be noted that he is also still in his pjs. Not so much action going on here. I ended up eating leftover broccoli from last night's dinner for lunch. I plan on eating something out of the freezer for dinner.

On the other hand, it is rather depressing to still be in your bedclothes and still not have a great idea of options of what to do by the time the day is almost over. I could have gone to the bookstore. Didn't. Could have gone window shopping. Didn't. Could have done yoga. Didn't. It reminds me of when I was little and would want to play something like school or restaurant, but the thought of putting the toys away would just deter me from getting them out in the first place. Its the same faulty thinking going on decades later.

Part of my reluctance to do anything is the weather. God, I hate this time of year. If I could just zap January through March I would be a much happier person. I know this time of year sucks and I do everything I can to prevent the suckage. I plant stinky Narcissus plants just to bring in a little green and life into the house. I clean like a mad woman and take multi vitamins with B complexes faithfully. Last year I spent exorbitant amounts of money going to the ritzy grocery store in town where a loaf of bread is the same price as imported cheese or your first born just to listen to the classical music, browse exotic mustards, and buy flowers weekly. The flowers died and made me sad so I had to replace them only to have the cycle of life let me down again. Like I said, God, I hate this time of year.

Last week I watched a woman from Utah ask a very crazy metaphysical gynecological "expert" on Oprah ask about Seasonal Affective Disorder. J and I have been "browsing" the light therapy boxes at Costco for a few months now. I've actually lusted after one for years, but couldn't afford to rationalizing spending $150 on a box of blue lights. Currently he's doing research in medical journals on their effectiveness. To be honest, that doctor on Oprah was a loon and I either blocked out what she said about SAD or just plain dismissed it. Oprah lost a few street cred points on my list after putting that lady on her show.

Besides apathy, they also say that irritability is a major sign of SAD. Perhaps my reaction to Oprah's show just gives more reason why I should get out of these damn pjs and get over to Costco.
Could. Probably won't.