What's Happened and What's Next

Well, it wasn't just the flu that had me in bed for weeks. During the umpteeth visit to my doctor in three weeks, she heard something in my abdomen. Four hours later, I was in a Santa Monica ER floating along on some really powerful painkillers and realizing that I watched The Godfather far too many times. I'm not going to get into the details of all of what went wrong. I don't feel entirely comfortable putting all that personal detail up on the interwebs. You can call me or e-mail me privately if you want to talk about it.

However, I can share that I have been the object of fascination by scores of perky interns and my super savvy surgeon who'd never seen anything like my case (that does a lot toward making a patient feel like she'll recover).. I've been pushed through silent, dark hospital corridors in my bed like Vito Corleone being hidden from hit men ( found a clip HERE but it doesn't have any audio).

I've been asked many detailed questions about my job at the Archive during some very embarrassing physical exams (apparently electronic archiving is the bees knees with medical personnel. I wouldn't have minded it I wasn't exposed for all the world to see much of the time. Somehow, I was able to answer in great detail. That was probably the morphine pump. I found a way to pass an entire day by watching nothing but court reality shows. I don't normally watch much of that kind of programming. It's too much like Jerry Springer but without the fighting (then, what's the point). That choice of viewing may have been because of the pump. It was more likely that I was trying to find any programming that did not mention Tiger Woods. That was really hard to do without the Food Network. I really missed the Food Network while inside.

I have never been hospitalized in my entire life. Yet, in one visit I managed to have procedures that I've only read about (and some I'd never imagined). I even had the mask over my face in the OR with the counting backwards from 100. I really don't remember thinking 99. While most of this will do wonders for the depth of my writing. And there were some amusing 'only in the Entitlement Zone' aspects to the hospital. They don't bring food around at intervals. You have to order it from room service. Let me say again, you have to order it from a menu from room service. And there were lovely aspects to the care like back rubs and a pedicure (the nurses found out the day after my surgery that I had never been hospitalized and wanted to calm me down so the meds could work, I suppose). That was really nice, but all in all, I would have just assumed skipped the whole ordeal.

However, life is what it is. I had a serious surgery and a long road to recovery. I'm not allowed to think about anything but eating and sleeping for the next few seeks. I'm writing today because so many people needed to hear from me. I really appreciate all of the well wishes and offers of help. I accept all of it including the rain dances. But worry not, knowing me, I'll be writing now that I'm more clear headed. It helps my state of mind. I plan on doing a little cooking at a time. I have to eat, and I like my cooking best. The cookies will not be in time for Christmas, but there will be cookies. Jon has been assisting me for years. I can talk him through most of it from the sofa. I need to have that cheery smell in the air. I am home with the hubs, the love and support from my extraordianrily strong family. I love you all.

That's all for now.

The Sinking, Soggy Hush Puppy

I really love hush puppies though I haven't had them often. The ones up north at fast food places are awful. We never could get them to work well at home. I only had the good ones when we went to Georgia in the summers to see the relatives. That was also the only place we had sweet tea, but that's another story. Anyway, since I've become a foodie, I've wanted to make my own hush puppies. I figured since the hubs loved fish and chips, I could get him to like catfish and hush puppies, right? My efforts were not successful at all. I never got to the point in the recipe where the dough would float on top of the oil just before it turned golden brown. My hush puppies always sank. They'd stay down there at the bottom of the dutch over not turning brown really. Just getting sad and soggy. I never even found out if I got the spices right. The hush puppies I made back then never really drained completely, so all I could taste was the oil.

Many years pass. I found myself watching a repeat of Paula's Home Cooking. One of the dishes was Crab Hush Puppies. I love crab in all forms. And my skills had improved markedly since my last attempt. I now have a thermometer to measure the temperature of cooking oil. And I take cooking with crab very seriously. Even if it's on sale, I am very careful in how I use it. I really studies the recipe and took my time. The oil was really hot...and they floated. The hush puppies puffed up and floated. They got a little darker than golden brown, but they were delicious! The only part of the recipe I failed to do was add the bacon crumbles to the finished batter with the crab. I cooked the crispy bacon to add to the hush puppies. I then ate the bacon. That was delicious as well. Thanks, Miss Paula!

Deb vs the Oysters

We were off on Friday, so I finally had made the purchases for the seafood extravaganza. Fortunately, Alton Brown had an episode of Good Eats on oysters the night before. I figured out that I needed to buy small oysters that were sweeter and easier to handle. That was good to know, because I knew nothing. I found myself really nervous about this whole situation. I am a self-professed Foodie, and my creds were on the line here. But as I looked at these things that seem to be exotic rocks, I couldn't help but wonder why anyone would ever get the idea of cracking that open and having a swallow. Primitive man probably saw primitive birds smashing these things on rocks and feasting on the innards. But what else did primitive man have to eat? I was dubious. With that in mind, I also bought some lovely lump crab meat along with the oysters at the fabulous Santa Monica Seafood and some shrimp and crab legs (they were on sale at my regular market). Since the oyster prep was very simple, I decided to finally tackle the elusive shrimp bisque recipe and make some crab cakes. If I hated the oysters, I could still enjoy some seafood. Next, came trying to opening the tightly closed rock. I am not the most graceful person I know. As far as I know, my father is still leery of me coming at him with hot food. You trip once going across a diningroom and no one forgets. Shucking these things involves holding the oyster in the palm of the hand while leveraging a sharp implement pointed toward my hand and shoving it into this rock. As I was doing that for the first time, I realized that we could be mere centimeters from a visit to the ER. However, that didn't happen. I opened them. It was inelegant, but I shucked a half dozen without losing any of the liquor. I had three on the half shell with a squirt of lemon and three with a Mignonette sauce. They are delicious. It was clean and sweet and a little salty. I got the attraction. I will definitely have them again. My Foodie creds remain in tact. The bisque and crab cakes were great as well.

Hot foot and other Kitchen Disasters

This week has had some really positive things happen. It's just been longer and stranger than usual. And the weather has been weird. It was 99 degrees at the Archive on Monday. By Wednesday the temperature had dropped more than 20 degrees. And my allergies are back to a level I hadn't experienced since leaving Philly 15 years ago. Thus, I'm a bit cranky, but not unhappy at all. Though as I take a break from cooking to write this, I realize that stoves and allergy meds may not mix. I just burned the top of my foot while making chili. And no, I don’t know how I pulled that off. I am backing away from the stove now.


Cooking Frenzy


A few weeks ago was the Easter holiday. My plans for making stocks were thwarted that weekend. Silly me thought that chain supermarkets would carry the same kinds of poultry at each store. Oh, no. Now, I’ll have to wait until Friday to get the turkey wings I like to use to make stock for various Easter related dishes. It’s not so bad though. Now, that we’re working the day shift, I have the whole evening on Friday to get a lot of the prep out of the way. I can do things like make pie dough a few days in advance of Friday, so there won’t be a lot of rushing around on Saturday. I’m not sure who, if anyone, is attending the dinner, but I always like to be prepared for surprises.

I haven’t been talking about it very much lately, but I’m still doing a lot of cooking that is getting more and more involved each year. I diligently record cooking shows on The Food Network and PBS every weekend. I watch them for new ideas and re-watch them to make sure I understand the techniques. One thing that has been a challenge for me is that most of the shows have recipes that must be served immediately after they are finished. That’s not an option for a person who tries to make most of the meals for the week during the weekend. Sometimes, I don’t even have the energy to make 30 Minute Meals when I get home. I need something I can throw in the oven or on the stovetop and is on the plate in fifteen minutes. So, my big food project, aside from sneaking more veggies into Jon’s diet, has been figuring out where I can stop a recipe to freeze it so that it tastes the same when I make it later in the week. Generally, I’ve found that blanching the veggies and freezing them separate from the meat an sauce in stews keeps them from being mushy when I put it all together. I actually make all my sauces and freeze them separately. Each night, I defrost the meal in the fridge and put it together when I get home. I’m also getting more confident with complicated dishes. But I find cooking very peaceful. That’s probably because I can control most aspects of it. And, as Jon says, there is much yumminess at the end.

Time to get back to cooking. Don't worry. I've put on some slippers!

Books, Books and a Jug Band

Surprise in a jug

I was surprised last week at the archive. That’s an extremely hard thing to do these days, especially while I’m in Los Angeles. I mean, the day we moved into our first place in Venice, a guy on a unicycle wearing a pink Spandex unitard and a little cape rode by yelling ‘I’m Pink Man.’ Turns out he wasn’t the actual Pink Man who operates out of San Francisco. This specimen was a local Venice denizen trying to horn in on the franchise. But you get the point. It’s not that I thought that the librarians where I work wouldn’t or couldn’t sing. They struck me as either the Peter, Paul and Mary type singers or closeted Headbangers. I really wasn’t expecting a jug band. They didn’t have washboards, but they did have mandolins and a slide whistle. There was much in the way of knee slapping. I was very surprised as the Librarian at the center of it all (he’s a cross between Grizzly Adams and Santa Claus) hardly every speaks. See him belting out a jaunty tune was quite a surprise. As were the jugs.



There isn’t much noise at work. Loud conversations are rare. But work at the Archive has been, for the most part, very interesting and satisfying. Right now, I’m digitzing a special collection of very old (we’re talking pre-Mayflower voyage old) books on trade from the big players of those days (England, France, Spain, Italy and the Netherlands). I believe I can read the term Table of Contents in 8 languages. What good is that? Who knows? The fate of the world may turn on my finding a table of contents in Sanskrit. I haven’t scanned the oldest documents at the Archive. We have a center working on the Dead Sea Scrolls. I know the London Center scanned the Book of the Dead. I don’t think anything other-worldly happened to them afterward. During last week’s conference call, no one from that center was chanting about Imhotep. Jon thinks it’s because no one READ the Book of the Dead when it was scanned. That must be it. Horror movies are never wrong about these things. Where was I? Oh yes, old tomes. I think the funniest thing I discovered were civil codes from the 1600s carefully laying out when it was permissible for passengers on a ship to sue the shipping line if they fall victim to pirates. Since I have found evidence that these laws were still in international law books as late as the 1920s, I doubt they were ever repealed. Thus, survivors of the Somali pirate attacks could hire one of attorneys who appear on daytime TV ads, to go after the careless ship owners who were in dangerous waters and not in a convoy. This is the stuff that goes through my head while at work.

Passages
Borders Book Store #93, 3rd Street Promenade closed its doors for good in January. Those of us who worked there have decidedly mixed feelings. There was a lot of evil cackling, to be sure. Some bitterness remains at the customers, the management, the corporate structure and even the fixtures. But, there is some sadness at the loss of yet another brick and mortar bookstore. Jon argues that it wasn’t really a bookstore at this point. It was more like a gift shop that sold some books. The depth of the inventory had changed considerably. The last time I was there, I couldn’t find a copy of The Great Gatsby. ‘Nuff said. I mourned the store’s demise back then. The company should have never abandoned its original mandate – a community bookstore with the prices of a chain. Borders expanded way too quickly (during my time there, a new store was opening every month). The Amazon.com completely panicked Borders. After they came along, it was one hair-brained scheme after another to try to keep its market share. They diminished the number and types of books they carried and abandoned the idea of full-time, knowledgeable staffers there for the long term. I’m saddened because it was a really great bookseller at one time. I have some wonderful memories of that store. I met some of the best people I know there (like Marie and Craig and Phil who were at our wedding). Marie and I learned about independent publishing working for Borders. My fondest memory of book signing was at a Borders. This one was in Philly while I worked for the Center City District. Peter O’Toole was signing a memoir at the Rittenhouse Square Borders. I just had to see him in person. He did not disappoint. Mr. O’Toole was there with a fine glass of booze and a cigarette awaiting the throngs when I arrived. The timid staff was trying to gently get him to not smoke and drink. He dismissed them with a very cultured ‘Oh, do go away.’ Then, he winked at me. It was fabulous. We would have never tried to take his stash at store #93 -- as long as he shared with us -- just kidding.

Our memories at store 93 are mostly ghastly. There were the various naked homeless people washing up in the bathrooms. They were never the OZ kind of naked or even the nudist camp kind of naked. It was gruesome kind of naked. Sometimes, they’d use the bathroom by going outside of the bathroom door next to the back office doors. My favorite of the homeless was not bathroom related. Mine was the one covered in gasoline and carrying an open cup of gas right in front of a group of VIPs from corporate headquarters. They no longer questioned our contention about having the weirdest clientele in the chain. We beat out the Manhattan stores for bizarre by a mile. We also cornered the market on privileged and often abusive customers who felt very entitled to everything. I won’t miss them at all. Though I met Star Trek's Patrick Stewart there (a co-worker nearly got injured over my wanting to wait on Captain Picard). Barbara Streisand had pretty good taste in book but made her husband pay for them. And Ted Danson looked for me long after I quit as he believed I was his personal shopper. Ah, memories. We tried to get a reunion group to go for one last visit, but I worried that Craig’s idea for a proper farewell would end in arrests. Thus, I said adieu from home.

Rainy Season and Soggy Tourists

Sorry to take so long to write. Work was left really unsettled as we broke for the holidays. And once back, we changed from night to day shift. It's been a real adjustment. Now, I'm back in the swing of things.

The thing I learned last week is that I’ve developed a capacity for eating huge amounts of Buffalo wings . I don’t really have them when I go out. They’re always too spicy or not tender. I didn’t typically make them for the Super Bowl. My friends preferred a Betty Crocker creation called Mahogany Wings (wings baked with a molasses, soy, ginger sauce). I supposed that I was feeling more traditional that night, so I made a pile of Buffalo wings thinking I’d snack on them all week. Maybe it was the thrilling game or something. All I know is that I had about seven wings left from a three pound bag. Just disgraceful. I’m making more today.

LA in Winter

We knew it was going to be bad when the sandbags were out in the breakroom. That the library has custom built sandbags tells you about the rainy season here. It was just as crazy as advertised. The downpours were so hard that visibility was only a few yards. Our bus on thursday took almost 20 minutes to travel two blocks. The drainage is terrible and Angelenos do not know how to drive in any kind of real weather. We left early on thursday and got home later than our normal time. It was much the same Friday save for the drenching we got just as we were left off the bus. A river ran through Culver Blvd., that was for sure. We didn't have to go anywhere on the weekend. I think our shoes will be dry by tomorrow. All told we had about three inches of rain in the region over the last few days. In snow that can be up to 30 inches. Still, that may not be enough to prevent water restrictions in the summer. What were people thinking building all this stuff in the desert? It won't affect us though. we don't have a lawn to water or a car to wash or a dishwasher...wait, is this a good thing? More rain is coming this week. The weather forecasters are very happy to have something to do. Maybe this week, everyone's driving will be better.

Tourist Season

Meanwhile, the tourists are suffering. I'm not sure what kind of travel guides they're reading, but most seem to think that our weather is completely opposite of the rest of the country. One of our more colorful bus drivers said to a German tourist who was shivering in shorts and a T-shirt during the rain storm, 'You seem to have LA confused with Brazil or Australia. It's still winter here.' The Big Blue Bus Drivers are very helpful with tourists. They even keep them from getting off at stops where it's likely they'll have a real LA adventure complete with gangs and rotweilers. Jon and I don't travel through those areas, but the bus connects within reach those destinations. Looking at a map, it seems that getting from our area to Venice Beach is an easy 20 minute walk. And it is, but that very direct route takes one through some ungentrified areas that are still in dispute among those who wear colors and use gang signs. The drivers give them helpful hints like, 'I could let you off here, but you'll proabably die.' After the local passengers agree with the driver, the tourists stay on board into downtown Santa Monica and take the very safe shuttle up the beach. Venice is quite safe on the beach. LAPD has a station there and lots of bike patrols (there was even a TV show about them called Pacific Blue - it was terrible). No one in city government will risk a world tourist destination. Jon and I haven't been there in a while. It's too much of a freak show. The beach near us is just off Marina del Rey. there is a mix of the very rich and regular locals. the beach has some nice, family owned restaurants. Tourists get there but not in as many numbers as Venice Beach.

Next Time

I'm going to try another video next week. I'll be doing a lot of cooking to cover the next couple of week. We're almost out of everything I made during the Christmas break. Jon's face was priceless during those shopping trips. I believe he thought I had lost my mind or invited a hundred people for the holidays. But no, I just did a lot of cooking and freezing. It almost lasted two months, and everything still tastes good. I've come a longway from watching the Galloping Gourmet. I'd never want cooking as a career, but I'd really like to take some courses on things like