corn husked and frozen

Because I am a crazy person, I've decided to attempt to make this skirt.  And I've decided to have it done by October 8th.  Or 9th.  Eighth if I think it looks awesome enough to get married in.  Ninth if I think it looks awesome enough to wear while hanging out with about 100 of our closest friends and family.  Oh hell. I might wear it both days.  If it's that magical.

I'm concerned. I'm not gonna lie.  It's not a complicated pattern and I do love me some cables, but that's not much time to make something that sort of kind of needs to fit me well at the end of it all.  Plus it would really be nice to have it done the week before so, you know, I can find something to wear with it.  The belt is ESSENTIAL.  Absolutely positively essential. And there will be some cool tights.  And perfect shoes.  And the perfect necklace.

There was discussion it should be made out of a champagne colored yarn.  As a red wine drinker, I demurred. I will spill tomato sauce, wine, a martini, a beer..something.  I will spill something if it's light colored.  So, I went out and bought..wait for it...you'll be shocked.........

Dark gray!  My favorite color!  After black!  Which would clearly be inappropriate for a wedding!  But dark gray?  It's practically champagne colored!

I mentioned the tights, right?

There will be brightish tights!  And a belt!  I promise the belt will not be black!

And whatever I wear on top I really really really promise won't be black!

No black!

it's thursday, right?

My work schedule has changed. For the first time in ten years. This might be the most startling thing that has happened to me in a decade.

One would not know it if one saw my daily life now, but I actually thrive in routine. It's why I loved marathon training.  Run this number of miles over this amount of time broken up daily and you'll be able to cover 26.2 miles, but you must get out there and run the miles every day. It's how the bathroom in my old apartment was sparkling.  Cleaning day was every Monday afternoon.  No exceptions. I cannot even tell you how comforting this whole routine business made me feel. There were palpable results.  Each day I ran I was closer to my goal and I could feel it. Each Monday afternoon, I could see that the effort I was putting into scrubbing my bathtub meant a sparkling clean tub. 

I can almost pinpoint the moment I started to feel suffocated by routine.  It was when I moved into the barn.  The cleaning thing quickly went out the window as the barn was...well...a barn.  A living space, but a living space crawling with spiders and a door that every time you opened would blow leaves into the living room and a bathtub drain that would back-up so quickly it seemed stupid to even try to keep clean. It was a losing battle. And I met new people when I moved. New people who seemed to be having a lot of fun not spending hours training for a race. My routines started to feel pointless.

I miss my routines. And I know that now after my hours changed. The change isn't dramatic. I'm working Tuesday nights instead of Wednesday nights. I start work an hour later every day. I have to work every other weekend.  But it's enough of a change, I've been thrown.  Yesterday morning I woke up at 8am intending to hit the market except the market is on Wednesday mornings. This morning I woke up convinced it was Thursday, but it was Wednesday. 

I've decided to combat my confusion with running. I'm not training for anything.  I am slooooow and pokey. But every morning I need to get out there. It's grounding. It's comforting. It makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something.

Now if only I could get inspired to clean the bathtub more...

this is why people hide keys under the flowerpot

Late last night, Peter and I were heading outside to drink a beer.  I was emphatically relaying a fairly irrelevant story regarding posting a comment on Hillary's blog about going out for beers when we're both in town at the same time and purposely looking our schlubbiest because, yes, we will run into people we know but who cares because we don't live there anymore.  Peter was out the front door and I was fiddling with the door handle lock.  I remember turning the lock, testing the door, and shutting it behind me.  The minute I did, I knew I had locked us out of the house.

We had no keys.  We had no phones.  And the guy who'd been living downstairs had moved out that day.

I went around to the back to double check our back door.  Yeah. It was locked. I kept looking over at our landlord's house and despite the late hour there were still lights on.  I was going to have to walk over there and knock on their door and apologize and ask for keys.  I really, really, really didn't want to do that. Peter said he'd check the car for something to try and break in with.  As he walked to the garage he thought to himself, "Maybe...just maybe...the back door to the downstairs apartment might be unlocked....the chance is one in a million, but maybe...."

Peter walked out the front door 2 1/2 minutes later. I thought it was a miracle. I thought he had fashioned a key out of a spring from a ballpoint pen and an old straw MacGyver-style. I thought maybe he crawled through a magic window that I had never noticed before. I thought maybe he had walked through a wall because there was no other possible logical explanation to how he had gotten us out of the mess I had gotten us into. 

If the roles had been reversed, I'm fairly certain I would not have been nearly as cool as Peter was. We were both coming off really long days with very little sleep the night before. We had a family party for which we needed to look slightly better than usual the next day as there were going to be family pictures. I would have mocked him.  I would have made him go next door immediately and get a key. I would have been enraged.

I am one incredibly lucky gal.  

Plus he now gets to lord this over me for the rest of our lives.  "Remember that night YOU locked us out of the house at 1am?  I always thought it would be ME who did that, but it was YOU! HAHAHAHA!"

i'm not hungry, but i haven't eaten, so maybe if i talk about food...

I have Tomatoland out from the library right now. It made the NPR rounds and as a good little liberal-what-you-eat-is-political-too kinda gal I thought I should read it.  It's been sitting on my bookshelf untouched since I brought it home a week or so ago.  Because here's the thing:  I don't need a book to tell me grocery store tomatoes taste bad. I don't buy grocery store tomatoes.  If I'm desperate and it's off-season I might snag one of those pint containers of those grape tomatoes, but I typically just steer clear of them. The texture is mushy and mealy. They taste like bad water. They're just gross.

We have just hit the beginning of tomato season at the market.  There are people who don't like tomatoes.  I don't understand these people (Berghoef, I'm looking at you...Joan too.  Freaks.) because tomatoes in season are like getting to taste heaven.  I'm serious.  So far this season I have sprung for Brandywines and a Cherokee Purple both of which were so freaking delicious and unique and tomatoey.  I ate them both raw--one sliced with some of that Black Russian Pumpernickel bread from DeBoers with soft butter and a little salt--oh my LORD that was good--and the other straight up plain sprinkled lightly with salt (Don't forget the sprinkle of salt!  It won't taste salty it will just make it taste even MORE tomatoey!). Right now on my counter I have the biggest most ugly yellow thing I bought from a guy who had a small wooden box full of heirloom tomatoes he just lovingly grew for fun.  I also got some sort of green one that I'm pretty sure isn't a green zebra because it doesn't look like a green zebra but maybe it is. I also got a box of smallish red generic looking one's from Boeve's with the plan being to toss them into a basil pistou pasta salad for the union picnic tomorrow night.

And then a miracle happened.

I stumbled upon smitten kitchen's slow-roasted tomato recipe and those tomatoes went from generic to amazing.  AMAZING!  I want to make trays and trays and trays of them and save them so I can get one taste  of tomato perfection in the middle of February.

This basil pistou pasta salad (which I would have made into a pistachio pesto but I know of at least one member who won't eat nuts no matter what...next time!) just went from "Oh. Hey. I'm a pasta salad. Yup. Basily. Little sauteed zucchini. Little summer squash. Touch of caramelized onion. Some generic raw tomatoes." to "Heeeeeey!!!!! What's up!?!?!  You want to put me in your mouth!!!!  You want to put me in your mouth RIGHT NOW!!!! That basil pistou is the BOMB!  And that squash looks so purty and yellowy!! And that zucchini is purrrfectly cooked and green!  And you are about to taste a sweet garlicy tomato bomb like you ain't never tasted before!!!!"

Yeeeeah.  I should have done this a few hours ago.

Is 10pm too late to make a BLT?

haven't you heard? i'm superwoman!

There's too much going on in my life right now to even come close to covering it in a blog post.  Suffice to say, in the next week and a half I need to pick up our car with it's brand spanking new $650 gas tank, go to the farmers market, make something for retirement party #1 on Thursday, make something and find a ride to a work picnic on Friday, wish my parents a Happy 44th Anniversary!, hang out with Rebecca and Sandy, attend Grandpa and Grandma's 65th Wedding Anniversary party, write two different resumes and cover letters for two completely different jobs I'm applying for, write a how-to manual for my current job, find one of those huge coffee makers churches always seem to have for coffee hours and learn how to make coffee for 120 people, make an appetizer-pick up the cakes-meet the caterers-and set up for retirement party #2, find appropriate cards and gifts for some very special people I will miss very much at work, turn in resumes and cover letters, open a new bank account and get new cellphones...Oh wait! I'm also supposed to let my Mom know how many announcements we'll need, and recently an idea was floated regarding a slightly more formal Open House-type thing on October 9th instead of The Sandbar so decisions need to be made about that and then invitations will need to be made and sent out, and Peter and I need to get serious about what this ceremony is going to look like....Oh wait!  And we should really start getting rid of some stuff as we're probably going to be moving sometime this fall.  At some point. And as it could happen any time at least having the Goodwill trips out of the way would be helpful as would starting to clean all of those nooks and crannies we've been ignoring because we didn't think we were going to move for awhile thereby making the whole Big Moving Cleaning ordeal a little more manageable. 

Who me?  Overwhelmed? 

HELL'S NO!

we really don't usually go out to eat this much. for realsies.

Oh, Theodore's! Why did I wait so long to visit you?  Why have I been wasting my money on Butch's?

I had intended to get over to Baker Lofts and eat there when they first opened.  I recently heard there was a change in ownership and a new chef.  I had heard excellent things about this new chef. 

The reviews I had heard were not wrong.

Drinks:  get the cucumber martini.  I had a grapefruit gimlet and though refreshing it just wasn't as good as Joan's cucumber martini.  There are no taps, but the bottled beer menu is fairly extensive. The wine list is manageable and the descriptions are extremely helpful especially for a wine moron like myself who knows only that she doesn't like sweet and prefers dry.

Shared plates:  Next time I might consider only getting a few shared plates.  There are a lot of them and they all looked good. We ended up with the scallops which were not freakishly large.  Freakishly large scallops kinda freak me out. The sauce was some sort of balsamic reduction with a ginger and berry puree. It was a perfect balance of sweet and spicy.  The only downfall were the dollops of sprouts topping each scallop.  I like sprouts.  I just don't get them with scallops. 

Entrees: There are only 5 entree options-beef, chicken, shrimp, pork, or vegetarian.  Two of us opted for the shrimp and the other two went with the pork and the vegetarian dish. The shrimp was perfectly cooked and again not freakishly large.  I bet there were 7 or 8 of those guys on top of a bed of the.most.amazing.coconut.rice. It was paired with a delicious sauce and topped with fresh shittake mushrooms. The vegetarian entree was tasty, but everyone wished there were just more vegetables in the dish. The pork was outfreakingstanding. Just perfect.  A big old piece of pork with fresh berries on top served with linguini and cream sauce.

There are a couple of smaller entrees.  A burger.  A grilled cheese. A pork roll. A mac and cheese. I have a hard time paying $12 for a burger, but it does look good. I almost went with the hoison pork roll only because it's unusual enough for a menu in Holland.

No one opted for dessert (did I mention we started the evening off with a goat cheese we brought back from Chicago?  And an amazing spicy tequila cocktail invented by Joan?) but there were two options.  A chocolate torte looking thing and then something that I honestly don't remember what it was called. It looked like cake that was stuffed with brandy soaked berries served with a gelato.  Or a sorbet.

The most awesome thing about the place is a bar that's open to the kitchen.  We didn't sit there, but next time I absolutely would.  You can watch the chef in action.  At the end of the night, Chef Matt came out and asked us how everything was. He is extremely friendly and I bet would be incredibly accommodating. 

The hours are very limited:  Thurs 5-9pm, Friday and Saturday 5-11pm. The saddest thing about the place is how empty it was. We were there on a Friday night at 8pmish and there were maybe 3 other tables. I hope more people in town discover them as I fear they might not make it otherwise.

And though it's not within walking distance, we biked!  It was supersweet! And a ridiculously short distance!  We vowed to never again drive to Baker Lofts unless the weather is terrible.  Seriously.  It was a 5 minute ride.  And the ride home?  Do you know how awesome it is to bike down the middle of River Avenue when no one else is around? 

Butch's:  I am officially done with you. I will go and sit at your bar and drink your martinis and consume your beer. But I refuse to pay more money for substandard food.

Oh yeah!  Did I mention the prices are less expensive than Butch's?

It's over, Butch's. Over.

they've already got pbr on tap. we just need them to get some founders...

One of my favorite things to complain about is how we don't have a single good place to eat supper out in Holland.  There are a few decent places. We have decent Mexican, Thai, and Japanese food.  The Piper is decent, but I don't always want to drop $20 on an entree. Same thing goes for Pereddies plus  they can also be spotty and I hate paying too much for Italian food.  I do love me some Russ' but honestly I think it's just because I love the novelty of ordering food by phone and two people can get out of there for under $20. There are a plethora of mediocre places: Curraugh, NHB, 8th St Grille, 84 East, Boatwerks, Butch's all come to mind.  And then there's the slew of chains on the north side which I pretty much refuse to go to. Where is the restaurant that is reasonably priced with an interesting menu that serves alcohol?

I think I have found it.

The Itty Bitty Bar on Ottawa Beach Road.

I still think it's a stupid name for a bar, but I am officially able to over look that after eating there last night.

Their menu is exactly what I'm looking for. They have roasted effing bone marrow on the menu as an appetizer.  ROASTED BONE MARROW IS FOOD FOR THE GODS. The number one recommendation we received from the bartenders was to order the burger (neither of us did, but we'll be back..) because it's popular and only $6.50 with the most amazing hand cut french fries.  I ended up with the chicken and waffles which wasn't even one of the three I was originally trying to choose from, but the bartender said she didn't even like waffles and she loved the dish.  It was unfreakingbelievable.  Buttermilk soaked fried chicken on top of 4 vanilla waffles (that could have been slightly crispier, but that's my only complaint!) and served with bourbon blueberry maple syrup and a side of goat cheese creme fraiche.

I dreamt about it last night.

Lobster mac and cheese and fish tacos and mini pulled pork sliders on homemade pretzel bread buns and a mini meatloaf and risotto.  Made to order.  RISOTTO MADE TO ORDER THE WAY RISOTTO SHOULD ALWAYS BE MADE. Their specials change every few days and are listed on their website.

I went there years ago when it was an Italian restaurant (Pontoni's?  Was it called Pontoni's?) and it is unrecognizable to me.  To call the decor understaded is...well...an understatement.  We sat on the bar side which is pretty dark with lots of big screen tvs and barstools (with backs!) that look like they've been there awhile.  The "restaurant" side has another smaller bar and-at least during the summer-is open to the front and the back.

The parking situation is pretty wretched.  We actually drove past once because it looked as if there were no spaces available.  By the time we came back a space up front had opened up.  The bartender assured us there was additional parking in the back which is definitely not made clear by all of the "Don't park in this field or you will get towed!" signs everywhere.  We were told you could drive in the field to get to the back parking.

The clientele, at least on the bar side, seemed a bit...40 year old divorced men smarmy.  To me.  With a dash of mid-30 something women who've had too much obvious plastic surgery.  Peter and I could not stop ourselves from staring at this one woman who had the most frightening fake lips I have ever seen.  And rumor has it the place can get packed and rowdy later at night.

The only other drawback?

It's on the north side.  I hate the north side. It's also in Park Township.  And I really hate Park Township.  I am willing to overlook these flaws if the food continues be good and judging by the menu I think it's going to to be good.

Roasted bone marrow?  You're next.

the one where i won't complain about the terrible, horrible, opressively unrelenting humidity

Saturday I purchased a 2 1/2ishlb chicken from Eater's Guild.  Sunday the heat index was around 105 degrees. Sunday I decided I really, really wanted to eat cold roasted chicken for supper. 

My kitchen is not air condidtioned.

I have roasted a number of chickens in the past.  It's really easy, but it's not the best way to cook a chicken. The breasts tend to dry out because the legs take longer. Enter Dorie Greenspan's (well, really, Daniel Boulud's) recipe for roast chicken from "Around My French Table." I got the cookbook from the library on the north side of town (which you should totally go visit because RFID has officially been installed and the self-checkout is freaking awesome plus their collection is smaller and newer so it's easier to spot the good stuff on the shelves!) and it's very, very pretty.  It also contained what will henceforth be my go-to roast chicken recipe.  While I won't discredit the possibility that an expensive organic chicken just tastes better, there was definitely a new technique involved that seemed awfully fussy.  I am here to say it was worth it.

Preheat your oven to 450 degrees (did I mention my lack of air conditioning in my second floor kitchen?) Put the bird on its side and roast for 25 minutes.  Flip the bird to the other side (I used tongs and a wooden spoon, but I bet those silicone mitts would be sweet) and roast for another 25 minutes. Flip the bird breast side up and roast for 10 minutes or until the thigh juices run clear.  Take it out of the oven, put it on a rimmed cookie sheet breast side down with the tail propped up on a bowl and LET IT REST FOR AT LEAST 15 MINUTES.

According to Dorie and Daniel, gravity will allow the juices to run back into the breast meat keeping it much more moist than if you just let it rest breast side up.  I am usually unable to resist cutting into the bird within 5 minutes because it smells so delicious and I think I've died and gone to heaven and the only way to make sure I'm not dead is to cut off a leg and go to town because dead people aren't that into eating or chewing.

I will never cut into a bird before resting it this way ever, ever again.

I also managed to carve the bird perfectly for the first time. Usually I end up with a pile of messy shredded meat, but this time I popped those legs out and chopped off those wings and cut those breasts so beautifully I almost took a picture.

I now have chicken carcass sitting my freezer for stock making. As there are cooler temperatures on the horizon and I somehow managed to survive roasting a bird for over an hour, I'm optimistic I can simmer some stock on my stove for 3-4 hours sometime in the near future. 

In other news, 50% of the new windows have been installed downstairs! My friend Molly is going to be the new head of Youth Services at my library!

They say moving, changes at work, and getting married are three of the most stressful events. 

Looks like I might be in for a very interesting fall...