I don't know what came over me yesterday but I started making stuff, food stuff, and didn't stop until about an hour ago. Yesterday afternoon I made a double batch of French Onion Salisbury Steak, one for us and one for Daddy & Mama. I was so into making it I forgot to take a picture until it was all packaged up and labeled, but you get the idea. You spread the garlic & paprika butter on slices of (crusty, wheat) bread, sprinkle on a little Swiss & Parm, and then bake them til they're crisp and bubbly. Then you put the cheese toast on a plate, set a steak patty (looks like a burger) on top, and then spoon this gorgeous onion, beef, red wine gravy over the top. (we're having some for supper tonight and I have to say I can't wait)
This morning (after CBS Sunday Morning) I cut up my pineapple, strawberries, and rinsed the blueberries for another vat of fruit salad. I'm addicted to the stuff; I have it with my lunch at work, I put it on my cereal or yogurt, and have little bowls of it through the day. Yum. I even try to get Durwood to eat some too, it's so good for you.
Then I made a pan of Broccoli-Cheddar Cornbread out of a magazine Durwood got last week. I'm a big fan of cornbread and when you add veggies and cheese? Well, it's like a meal all in one. Needs a little salt but I think I can choke it down. Oh. My. God. It's so good. You'd never know there's a half pound of extra sharp cheddar, 6 Tbsp. of butter, and a cup of cottage cheese in there. Oh, wait, you would because the pre-baking weight of it had to be 3-4#, and it's so good it makes you eat it just by its aroma.
One of our squirrels has discovered the yumminess that is the suet feeder. I think it's funny; Durwood is not amused. He has a few tricks he uses to chase him/her away but I plead for lenience because I have a bunch of suet cakes and no birds are really eating them right now anyway. Something might as well. Right?
I'd better stop cooking or I'll run us out of grocery money and need new jeans. I've got some bean ends and fruit peels for the chickens so I'm hoping to go over later to deliver them and the Salisbury steaks, and I might even get a little LC squeeze in. But first I'm meeting a knitting pal at Ashwaubenon Lanes at 3 PM for a little bowling. I'm sure we'll suck at it (at least I will) but it'll be a fun, mid-winter amusement. I need to get away from the fridge and the stove.
January 19--Lawrence Kilburn, Portrait of a Lady. "Miss Grace," Detective Mitchell said, "where were you when Miss Lily Worthington died?" "Well, I don't know," she said, "I've been in and around all day but if you can't tell me when it happened I can't say where I was." She paused as if waiting for him to say more, when he didn't she went on. "I wasn't in the dining room poking holes in Lily, that's for sure." Mitchel nodded while making notes in a tattered notebook. "Yes, ma'am," he said in a tone of voice that made her think he wasn't listening to her.
And that's as far as I got before the Sandman bonked me on the head. Actually I only got to the word "voice" before my pencil went its own way and squiggled down the page. When I woke up enough to take off my glasses, etc. I filled in the last few words. Not bad for a som... isn't there a word for a sleep writer? I'm off to Festival to get Durwood some tomatoes. He's addicted to 'em. Toodle-oo.