[A good reduction] is a terrible thing to waste
Saveur had a very interesting article in this month’s issue about the Tamarind fruit (the secret ingredient in Worcestershire sauce, apparently) and I was immediately intrigued. First, I thought that Tamarind was a native fruit tree to Costa Rica (which would be why they have a beach called Tamarindo), but apparently it is actually native to East Africa and is most often used in Southeast Asian cuisine. While this, I’m sure, fascinates you to pieces, I digress.
Since I was interested in the Tamarind fruit because of my time in Costa Rica, I decided to make the “Tamarind Glazed Pork chops,” for dinner. This of course resulted in a lot of effort on my part to extract three cups of water from a semi-solid block of seed pulp (luckily I did that last night because I eventually gave up after 4 minutes and only two cups), a frantic stirring of sauce, pan frying pork chops, trying not to set the smoke alarm off, and yelling at my family members who were wandering in and out of the kitchen and asking me questions I didn’t have the time to answer while basting and broiling chops, steaming artichokes, making pasta and generally trying not to overheat and sweat to death. What I need is a professional kitchen crew who does all the clean up while I just look cute in an apron and serve my delectably glazed porkchops.
All in all the moral of the story is… the longer you reduce tamarind sauce, the stickier it gets. Literally and metaphorically.
I feel clever!
old stuff | Comment (1)They even took the carpet.
I don’t like going downstairs right now and I probably won’t until Friday at least. It is amazing how echo prone a room becomes when you take out all the furniture and the carpet and the padding and you just leave the bare concrete foundation of the house. My brother and I used permanent markers to leave our John Hancock’s; I drew a pawprint for the doggy. So I suppose if someone ever was cold-hearted enough to rip out several thousand dollars worth of coastal cherry hardwood floors, they would see our mark there forever. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that. There’s concrete and nails and dust and dirt everywhere, and the old carpet is laying rolled up in a huge duct taped together pile on the deck out back. The poor dog’s little karma is so disturbed that she slept through three round of rowdy card playing.
In other news - I really like Flickr - I just wish I had something to post that was better than my stupid photos from Christmas and my old junk from DeviantArt.
old stuff | Comments (2)Merry Christmas Eve
I’m pretty sure that at this point, Christmas is a two-day holiday. Thanks to the strong influences of consumerism and capitalism, Christmas Eve is just as important as Christmas Day. In my family, we open presents on both days, have big dinners with family on both days, and waste both days entirely on stuffing our faces and consequently melting into the sofa to watch movies or somesuch.
Ever since we moved to Texas (9 years ago) we have had the same Christmas routine. Any person in my family who dares disrupt this routine might as well be taken out back right now and shot. It is utterly unthinkable to miss Christmas dinner (5 p.m.) at Grandma’s on Christmas Eve. After dinner (in which I will probably once again be relegated to the children’s table because I am the youngest… in fact I will probably still be eating there even when I’m old and gray) we all mill about, stalking the Christmas tree and staking out claims on the sofa in the sitting room until someone “suggests” that we open gifts (well, they have to get to church so we better get started!).
Gift opening at Grandma’s is also a time-honored (or honed) tradition in my family. One person (usually Lacey) plays Santa and delivers the presents one by one to the 13 family members (14 now that Jay is married) in order of age. I have learned patience through this ordeal because I am always last. If we start at 7 p.m., we will finish around 9 or 10, and then everyone quickly grabs their loot and dashes from the premises in order to make it church on time (my family has simply given up on this fact as we live 30 minutes away).
Tomorrow morning is another round of opening little bundles of joy. I used to get up at the crack of dawn (if I slept at all) and wait patiently downstairs for hours until everyone got up so we could open presents. Now in my age and wisdom I see that waiting really sucks, so I just get up when I smell breakfast and saunter down in my PJs and wait on the sofa. We open my family’s presents on Christmas morning, the things we give to each other. I think it’s better that way because it’s intimate and fun, and there aren’t 9 (or 10) other people clamoring in the background. It’s supposed to be cold so maybe we’ll light the fire and the dog will be exitedly chewing on something from her stocking. She’s pretty funny about it really - we got out the presents to put under the tree and she preceded to sniff them all - she knows that Santa’s bringing her something!
After present opening we all scramble to shower and cook because Grandma, Grandpa and Aunt Leslie all come over for Christmas dinner (the Cousins go to Mississippi to see their other family). This year we are making Beef Loin-something with all kinds of delectable side dishes. I don’t cook here, even though I like to, because big family cooking is up to my brother (the gourmet chef/physicist) and my mother (the best cook in the whole world). Dad and I just hang back and practice our duets on the piano. And then everyone comes over and stuffs themselves silly and then we all retire to digest on the sofa.
I do love Christmas… although sometimes I think it loses its meaning and simple goodness in the rush to buy presents and cook fantastic dinners (we’re making two exotic cheescakes this year) and driving to and from all these places. But I do love my family very much and I am happy to spend time with them.
So merry Christmas eve and merry Christmas too.
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