The Week Thus Far
And we celebrate a major holiday
It’s amazing how quickly we acclimate to things. I woke up around 6:30 yesterday morning and was pleased to see a new dusting of snow. I checked the temperature. It was two below zero and I thought, “oh, that’s not too bad.” I must admit I’m happier with today’s warmer temps.
I know you’re probably tired of endless views out my bedroom window but I can’t help myself. I see a dusting of snow and I fling my window open to take a picture. I rather liked this very early (well, for me) morning sky.
Thank heavens for our little space heater which has been warming our icy media room, which for all its impressive moniker, is just an old porch. No basement below, no second floor above, three walls exposed to the wind, so yeah, it gets a bit nippy at the best of times.
Monday night we curled up in the dark, with blankets and the space heater and watched the Emmy’s. Sadly we did not make appetizers, the show kind of snuck up on us. I’d decided to make gluten free gnocchi with some shrimp we’d pulled out of the freezer with perhaps kale and an orange pepper. I just wasn’t feeling it though. Then Ernie reminded me that we still had some leftover rice and red lentils and we could just heat that up and put the shrimp on top of it. Oh, my brilliant husband. The rice and lentils had gotten a bit spicier as it hung out in the refrigerator. I think the red pepper flakes got comfortable with their new friends, so it was perfect with the nice sweet shrimp just quickly sautéed on top of it. I’m afraid there’s no way to make this dish pretty. Don’t forget though, we were snuggled up in the dark. And we got three meals out of that rice and lentil dish! Once straight up with a dollop of yoghurt, once with eggs on top and then this time, with the shrimp.
The night before we had some chicken thighs I wanted to use up. I hereby proclaim 2024 the year we don’t let as much food go to waste. 2024 seems as though it will be another year of lazy cooking, so we just did our standard, salt, pepper and sumac on the chicken, skin side up in a roasting pan, diced sweet potato all around them, into a 475 degree oven for forty minutes. Then we pulled them out, threw a couple of handful of chopped kale from a bag (those bags are ENDLESS, or as Heather said, they have some kind of loaves and fishes things going on in there), on top of everything. A teensy sprinkle of olive oil and back in the oven for ten minutes. Ok, five minutes would have been enough, but their slight bitterness was a perfect foil to the sweetness of the sweet potatoes (I know some of those sweet potatoes look on the edge of burnt but they just get sweeter with all that caramelization). SO fucking good. Whoops. SO damn good. Mmmm. SOOO good. Stupidly good. Better than the sum of its parts. BTTSOIP. New term for stupidly good. BTTSOIP.
The plan for last night was a chicken pot pie made with the leftovers of the dish above. Unfortunately, my day went to hell. Then it got worse. You know what you eat at times like that? Whatever the hell you want, assuming you have it in your house.
We had tater tots with a bit of grated cheddar and pickled jalapenos. Tot nachos. Totchos, which I didn’t realize was a big thing. They were crispy and nasty good, as Ernie would say. You do what you have to.
They helped. Somewhat.
Today is supposed to be a better day but I had a call with Busey Bank that lasted about 20 times longer than it should have. No, make that 50 times. They were relentlessly cheery and I did my damndest to return the favor. Ernie had to get a blood draw for tomorrow (when we have to be at the Cancer Center at 7:05 am thank you very much). He got there a little early, innocently thinking perhaps he’d get in early. HA.
He’s back home and we’re trying to pick up the pieces of our week because it is a holiday. What holiday you ask? Why it’s the 110th anniversary of the day we met. Well, not the 110th, but not far off either.
In January of 1981 I had my eye on the cute blonde guy at Record Service, and I had since I’d come to town the previous fall as a freshman. I was living in Allen Hall, of course. My roommate Jeanne and I went to Mabel’s that night, we had just gotten back into town after the holiday break. Chicago band, Poison Squirrel was playing. The afterparty was at 404 South Busey in Urbana. And that’s how we ended up here today on another January seventeenth.
He texted me from the Cancer Center this morning saying it was taking forever and I texted him back, “Bet you didn’t see this coming 43 years ago, did you?” His response? “Hell, no!”
Happy January 17th, baby. I love you more than ever. We’ll have pot pie tonight.
Onward.
Love,
Cynthia
Only 41 years ago. That is amazing, and wonderful.
Was it Poison Squirrel? Loved them. Still have a badge and a single. I remember those trips to Record Service when you were checking Ernie out. 😂 Happy anniversary! 🥰🥰
I have so many things to say in response to your post. I think a visit and a cup of tea would be best. Yes, something mysterious happens with flavors overnight. Made a meh curry that was delicious the next day - greater than the sum of its parts. Isn't that Gestalt or synergy or something?
Spent hours dealing with insurance matters the last couple of days. Stone Cold Burger Woman may have made an appearance. (I try to be nice... truly...)
The snow is so beautiful, especially at dawn. A friend noted that one good thing about winter is that we sometimes get to see the sunrise. Told Nora last week I was going to try to trudge through the snowstorm to that stone chapel in the woods. She said, "Sounds a little romantic." I was like, well??? 🤷🏼♀️ I mean really. She's known me for 28 years.