Desert blues

After a lovely week in Massachusetts, gazing at green, I'm back. It's tiresome. Today about 8:30 am I decided to take the dog out for a short walk (having missed the pre-dawn window of semi-comfort). The temperature was unusually low, in the mid-80's, so I figured it was do-able. I'd been walking in Massachusetts at similar temperatures, and we've walked at dawn here, but in daylight it is way different. Maybe it's because the angle of incidence of sunlight is so near 90 degrees here. Whatever the reason, the impact is well above that signified by air temperature alone. Homie felt it much more than I, even with drinks and sprinkles. By the time we got back, after only a half-hour, he was panting hard and walking slowly enough that I was worried about him. I won't do it again.

This week we give up selling the house and hopefully make a trip to Oregon. Grumpy's VA appointment screw-up may hash our plans (doctor called in sick). I think it's the one he's been waiting for to document his progress in getting fit enough to have his collarbone fixed, and he had a list of other things to discuss. A rescheduling will be an aggravation, a delay. Oh, well, the trip keeps getting postponed, so I might as well get used to it.

It was an odd week in Massachusetts, committed to fixing dinners and trying new things. It was partly fun and partly discomfort with what was really a minimal committment. The discomfort was more aggravating than the actual committment, as I then proceeded to feel guilty about it. I've always resented domestic duties, and my solution at home is to do them only when I feel like it. Doing it on schedule for people who live and eat differently than I do piqued a vulnerable part of my psyche. I'm not at all proud of that. Still, the trip was mostly rewarding.

My cooking at home is pretty basic: throw a bunch of yummy stuff all together in a skillet, or throw a bunch of yummy raw stuff all together in a salad bowl. Last week I used a recipe! Twice!

A sauce (i.e. gravy) for pork chops was unique (to me) for not using flour. It was thickened with heavy cream boiled down to half its volume. Who'd have ever thought boiled cream would rise to such a magnificent height! Not me, when selecting an appropriate saucepan. While I was busy whisking rapidly and moving the pan on and off the flame, an adorable poodle bent on a frolic jumped on my legs, ruffled rugs, yipped, and rattled doggie bowls. He knew damn well what he was doing to me. The twinkle in his eyes was a dead giveaway.

The next project was moussaka, which involved three separate processes to ready three things to pile in together and bake. The one that bugged me was the eggplant. The recipe said to slice it and salt it (to draw out some of the bitter fluid) and brown it in olive oil over high heat. Three eggplants sliced and browned in 1/4 cup of oil? High heat for olive oil? Olive oil sort of evaporates over high heat, and eggplant (as I knew from previous experience) sucks up oil like a dessicated sponge. I aimed for medium heat, and the first skilletful of eggplant sucked up ALL the olive oil! Uneasily, I kept pouring in oil and browning eggplant, trying to minimize time and absorption. I was not surprised when baking released a lake of oil, but it still tasted great. I ate twice as much as I should have.

I was so exhausted after the moussaka project that the next night I produced a simple favorite of mine, salad with flakes of heat-smoked wild Alaskan salmon and the kind of feta cheese that comes in a pool of brine. For some reason, Trader Joe's doesn't carry that type of salmon any more, but Whole Foods does. Here at home I will now have to drive 25 miles across town to Scottsdale (where live the moneyed folks with moneyed taste) to find it.

I was taken out to dinner the final night, which was sweet of them and a treat for me. My friend with the new bionic shoulder was doing a smashing job of recovery by the time I left.

I forgot to swim in the river!!!