Last Recipe

Today I made the last recipe of this bout of Investment Cooking--Loaded Chicken Bake.  (Click the link for the recipe.) It has the highest points per serving of anything I make but it's the most like casseroles I used to make so it's worth it.  (It's kind of like a loaded baked potato with bacon, cheese, and scallions on top of chicken in sauce made of cream of chicken soup and plain Greek yogurt.)  This pan makes six servings, one of which I had for supper tonight because I only had five of the right size Tupperware square rounds.  Oh too bad, I had to eat some fresh from the oven.  Yum.  Not counting the chicken noodle soup I made yesterday I have 32 servings of suppers in the freezer.  I just love that.




My patience is about to give.  I'm going to be picking this cucumber one day soon.  Too bad the Roma tomatoes won't be anywhere near ripe when I do but I'll just slice it, dab a little salad dressing on it, and eat it right up.






When I was doing yoga this morning I noticed the clouds.  I thought they looked like rumpled bed clothes.  I was sure it was going to rain but it was cloudy then sunny all day until about half an hour ago when it started to drizzle.  I can hear that it's raining a bit now and it's supposed to storm in a couple hours.  I'll sleep through it, I usually do.

This makes me smile.  Seeing this mass of daisies an bee balm pleases me no end.



I spent some time today trying to learn the ins and outs of Zoom for the knitting guild.  We're not meeting in person so we're working to figure out how we can meet virtually and have some semblance of programs.  I semi-volunteered to look into it.  (I wasn't fast enough to say "not it.") I talked to my friend, Lala, and she's going to help me this weekend.  She uses Zoom at work so she offered to teach me some stuff.  I watched a bunch of video tutorials and having someone to lead me through using the features will be a huge help.

14 July--Barbara Malcolm, Tropical Obsession. 

Rooibos made up his mind to interview Susan Clemment first thing in the morning. He had heard of her husband, Major George Clemment. Rumor said that he had been some sort of Cold War spy and had tangled in the trenches with Dimitri Roskova, whose wife it was that he had overheard in the restaurant. Rooibos had sympathy for Dimitri if his wife was as severe and humorless as she seemed.

The next morning just after nine o’clock he rang the bell at the gate of the Clemment’s house just down the beach from where Mona Davidson and Jack Spencer were staying.

Major Clemment himself came to the door. “Yes? Can I help you?” he said holding the door close to his side so that Rooibos could not see in. Rooibos extended his hand with one of his cards.

“I am Detective Inspector Joachim Rooibos of the Bonaire Police Department. I am investigating the suspicious death of Mister Jack Spencer and I wondered if I may speak to Missus Susan Clemment?” 

George frowned. “Why would you want to speak to Mrs. Clemment? She had very little to do with Mister Spencer.”  He stood firm in the doorway not budging an inch.

“I am sure that you are correct, Major Clemment, but I have to get familiar with Mr. Spencer’s life on the island. May I come in?”  Rooibos did not smile at Major Clemment. He understood, and rightly, that George did not consider this a smiling occasion and appreciated the seriousness Rooibos took in his work.

George thought for a moment and then stepped back, opening the door wider as he did, and motioning the policeman in. George escorted the Detective Inspector across the house and out onto the shady patio that ran the width of the house. He motioned Rooibos into a chair and inquired if he would like coffee or tea.

“Tea would be nice thank you,” he said with a small smile.

“Sugar, milk or lemon?” 

“Neither.” 

George went back into the house and returned quickly with a small tray bearing two mugs of tea and two spoons. He put the tray on the low table next to the police officer and sat down in the other chair.

“Susan is in the shower,” he said. “I will get her for you when she comes out. Now, tell me again why you need to speak to her.” 

Rooibos nodded.  “As I said, I need to get a picture of Mr. Jack Spencer’s life on Bonaire.  The more I know of his movements and associations, the better job I can do working out who might want him dead.”  He sipped his tea and set the mug back on the table.  “I understand that Ms. Mona Davidson has struck up a friendship with Mrs. Clemment.  I thought perhaps that she might be able to give me a view of the relationship between Ms. Mona and the deceased.  A woman’s view, if you will.  Women seem much more attuned to that sort of thing, don’t you think?”

George sets his own mug down.  “We really did not know them well.  I met Jack Spencer at the Plaza Casino a month or so ago.  We invited him to a casual cocktail party we had for a visiting group of scientists whose work on the climate I am interested in. That night was the first time I met Mona.”

“What did you think of them?” Rooibos asked.

“Oh, I thought she was pretty enough and fairly nice but that she was also pretty well under Jack’s thumb.  Susan was angry about the way that Jack treated Mona and she encouraged Mona to join her in her Art group and to become more active on the island.”  George rubbed a hand across his face.  “To lure her away from under Jack’s domination, I supposed.” He stood.  “Here’s Susan.  Susan,” he said, “this is Detective Inspector Joachim Rooibos of the island police.”

Today's toss was a trio of old WW cookbooks.  They were ones that I've never used much and didn't have any recipes that appealed to me for Investment Cooking so out they go.  Tomorrow I'll go over to Goodwill to empty the back of my car so I can start again filling it up.  There's no danger that I'll run out of tosses anytime soon.
--Barbara