The Kitchen Blog

Cooking, Gardening, Angst and More. Including Job Search Tales and lifestyle tips about island living.

Once more unto the breach. . . .

posted by: ChefNeal at February 28, 2005 16:37 | link | comments |
gardening, poetry

Dicey

 As in this is going to be. . .I sliced the end off my ring finger last night (Professional type Chefs aren't supposed to do that are they?) in my haste to slice a carrot in half and get some dinner going. Good sharp knife took a good bit of nail off.  Nothing too grim, but typing is suddenly even more of a bitch than usual.

Finally a light grey blanket has smothered the all too cheery blue sky which has stretched over us for the past two weeks.  It is looking a bit more like Spring should around here.  There is a light breeze off the water and the bay is a shimmer of ripples.  The air is warm and fragrant of the coming salty rains and the humous odors of rebirth and crocuses.  The temperature looks like it is going to climb a bit and the dampness feels good in the lungs.  I don't think we will get anything more than some misting rain, which hopefully means I can till the garden again this weekend and we can get some planting done.  Fence work is going apace and there may be more photos by Monday.

To fend off the black spot which cowers in my brain I have strangled the espresso beast into submission. I have it working for me now, only until is blows up--any moment I'm sure--in a blast of sparks and scalding froth. To whit I have been flexing my plastic friend and purchasing a stovetop espresso pot. No more technology failing me, I hope, as hard water and uncertain power supply wreck havoc with anything electronic in this house. (I mean, in the last 12 years how many coffee makers/espresso machines, dishwashers, washing machines have you gone through? I could own a second car for what we've spent.)  When I do emerge out of this rash of poverty which blighteth me I will think of getting a new machine (after all bills are paid off).  There being no coffee shop or high end emporium or barista chain anywhere within an hour's travel of this rock, our house and machines get used quite a bit. Oh, if  I had a boat resting at that dock I look over morning, noon and pm I could zip across the water and grab something on the next island and be back a half hour later, and I probably would--let's see where that gets us: $3.50 for the coffee, $20 for groceries, $6.50 for a crabby pattie, $30 for the gas to get there and back.  Hmmm I think I'll just start squirling away $60 plus a day and be ahead of the game. . . . I knew there was a reason I don't own a boat, just too tempting.

posted by: ChefNeal at February 25, 2005 09:19 | link | comments (3) |
life

Talk of Weather

 Peter Fallon, the Irish Poet, was a mentor of mine long ago. If asked at the time if I would ever be like him I would have flatly denied it. No farmer I, no poetic soul. Philosopher yes, writer and lover of dogs. I missed the mark though, and overshot I have fallen back to the ground.  You can like cats, and barnyards. Tracts and epic tales are not all there is. In foolish youth I could not have forseen that I would be most like what I was glad to know, but still walking away from. Changing winds. Scholar, farmer, poet--not a bad mix that. Now, as I reflect, bent over the garden spade, or knife in hand, pare flesh from bone while onion sizzles; in the springing of the year is there any such time when Calliope does not call louder?

posted by: ChefNeal at February 24, 2005 14:20 | link | comments (6) |
poetry, life, weather

Rush

Sip, Exhale
Slack jawed addict
relaxes into his fix

Tongue tied
Jaw numb
Wave counting the beans

Twitch awake
Upon wave you warm me
Sip, exhale

We are one
Life cannot go on
I am yours alone

Tie me up
I'll not go far
Rush after rush

I'm alive again
I can go on
You dark devil

Coffee
Coffee
Coffee

posted by: ChefNeal at February 24, 2005 09:05 | link | comments (4) |
life

Feels like Monday

 I don't necessarily believe in curses--other than the one over this house, but I am giving way to the theory. . .Woke up this morning to find the espresso machine not in the mood, again. We are currently operating under emergency coffee procedures--I've got my head in the bag of beans, inhaling while the water boils for the Cafetiere.  I'll try and beat some sense into the Briel later, when I'm awake.
When I turned my attention away from Disaster #1, I came over to the Beloved Mac to find it had crashed sometime in the night--I was right, it did need restarting. . . .Everything seems to be working great now, I was just pushing it too hard, or something. Disaster #2 averted. What more does this day hold? As I prepare to harass my employment agency to find out what is going on with this job which is there for me but hasn't been offered. . .I need it NOW! Not only am I broke beyond poverty, and the lady wife's job hangs in the balance of budget cuts, but I NEED another Espresso Machine.

In the department of Mastering Our Common Tongue I offer this example.  The kids are studying the Middle Ages in School.  Estrogena came to me to ask if she and I could attempt to make a small patch of Mail--as in Chain Mail a type of Midaeval armour. I think it's great.  I was relating the story to the Wife and she went ballistic. "No, I think their terrible. No way. It's illegal. I don't want her involved in that sort of thing. . ." I was bowled over by such a strong reaction until it dawned on me. "Mail. . .Chain Mail--armour--not Chain Letter, you stupid woman. . . ." I couldn't stop laughing, and fortunately neither could she.  It's all in the context I supose.

posted by: ChefNeal at February 24, 2005 08:51 | link | comments |
life

The fuicking internet

 This damn dialup just made me loose my post when it disconnected. As it's gone and I've got to start dinner and break up sibling uprisings consider yourself spared from my previous diatribe. I'm sure you didn't want to know that much about the books on my reading list.

posted by: ChefNeal at February 23, 2005 18:12 | link | comments (1) |
life

Always more. . .

Today is like the 10th day of straight sunshine. It must be a record or something. Once I get some stuff done, I am out into the garden to work on the fence a bit more.  I didn't get a ton of work done yesterday because I was working on getting the photos up, and checking out GTD. In trying to get the most out of Notebook--an awesome program I use to collect my thoughts and  organise projects--I stumbled on Getting Things Done.  I am sure it is old news by now, but as an dysfunctionally organized individual I need all the help I can get. Needless to say I'll be devoting some of my already limited time to this new found idea.  My connection/ CPU is really dragging, so I'm gone. . .

posted by: ChefNeal at February 23, 2005 09:51 | link | comments (4) |
life, gardening

As promised

 Here is the much anticipated link to the fabulous garden remodel: Garden Project 2005

Get an RSS news reader and keep up with all the fast-paced action. . . .

. . .Ok, perhaps I am trying to over sell it just a bit.

Check it out anyway, or take my Quiz.  . . .Nice try anyway Howard. . . .

posted by: ChefNeal at February 22, 2005 16:01 | link | comments (3) |
gardening

. . .Grrrr. . .

 It is beautiful outside, yet today is starting out to be a bitch. Woken from a deep sleep so I could make the coffee I lurched downstairs still struggling to get my socks on. I began the morning beverage service and pointed out to The Dear One that there were bills to go in the post on her way to work.  Not a popular statement, after out littlest gnome cried her eyes out last night because Daddy is mean, and Mommy is at work all day.
I forgot to pay Deary's professional license, which isn't due for another week, but it became an issue.  Meanwhile in my caffine deprived state, the soul sucking blackness was closing in.  What is left of my spine has been hammered hard by the garden project and while limbs are numb and I can't bend to adjust the penny in my loafers, I find it hard to focus on anything before I have my first sip.

So mid-way through my Barista act I stopped and paid the flipping fee, but . . .I'd lost the envelope and address (which is why I hadn't payed the fecker yet).  I handed the Mrs a blank envelope, a stamp and the paperwork. My brain had shut down.  The woodstove at full bore has not taken the chill out of the air yet. The Arctic Blast swept out the door while I was hanging upside down on the inversion table--a thing which has to be done before drinking coffee, or eating anything covered in milk. The blood pooling in my crainium felt good for 15 minutes. Reentry was a little rough as vertibrae re-stacked themselves, but the pennies are facing the right way now.

Time to brew again, eat and plan the day. If I'm going to work in the garden today I've got to put on something for dinner at lunch time. I don't want to be staggering around the kitchen wondering what to eat 10 minutes before we're supposed to eat it, with the hungry hoardes chanting the combined hunger pleas.  The answer of course, with what I had in the fridge, was Potato and Red Pepper Fritatta with Salad. It used up 18 eggs--only 9 dozen in the fridge left for the week.

posted by: ChefNeal at February 22, 2005 09:22 | link | comments (2) |
life

Moro

Here but a moment
You're bittersweet
Raspberries and white chocolate
Prosecco

I laugh at your arrival
and cry when you are gone
Fennel and Chevre
Pine nut

Your skin, your pith
your juice
is more than I can bear
all you are I am

In pleasure I cut you
In joy I sacrifice
Citrus, sanguination
Already I wait in anticipation
Of next year's trist

posted by: ChefNeal at February 21, 2005 18:46 | link | comments (4) |

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