Boy howdy, but it's been a wet spring and summer here in Cow Hill.
Last week, I walked into my studio to find that the sheetrock on the
ceiling in one of the rooms had collapsed. A sodden piece of the
stuff about the size of a door was lying on the floor. Leaky roof.
Last year this time we were in a terrible drought. You don't notice
that your roof leaks in a drought. I got a local handyman to fix it
this weekend. We shall see. He's a good man, but he had some issues
with figuring the number of square feet of the roof. We shall see.
I cut the sheetrock into manageable chunks and hauled it out to the
porch. It's hiding behind a bush out there right now. The handyman
and his minions had to chop back some of one of my fig trees because
it was messing with the studio roof. I just passed a fig branch on
the walk to the studio. It had green figs on it. Made me a little
sad.
Tonight some coworkers (Cow-Orkers? Sorry, Dave Barry) came over for
dinner. I spent much of the afternoon cooking. We got some free
range hens from a local supplier last week. I brined two last night
and smoked them today. Boy howdy, were the pecan twigs wet when I
tried to start a fire with them today. Typically I use the branches
that pecan trees drop with regularity to start the fire in the smoker
pit and to get a roaring blaze that sears the inside of the pit and
puts an end to all carbon-based life forms that might have found a
domicile there since the last time it was hot. It took a while this
time, but in an hour or so I got the pit up to over 400F, effectively
snuffing the bugs in there once more. I let the rig cool down to
about 275-300F. The chickens went in about one this afternoon and
stayed there till about 4:30.
There are a few jalapenos in my too-wet garden. One plant just fell
over because of all the water -- not a wilt, just a topple. But I
picked a couple of them and set them in the smoker with the chickens.
I made a relish of home smoked jalapenos, cilantro, lime juice and
salt for the chickens. Some of it I left as it was. Some of it I cut
with yogurt to mollify the heat. Two sauces, one foundation.
For a first course, I made another batch of stuffed tomatoes. Back on
the 19th of June I posted this photo of a similar dish:
http://i14.tinypic.com/54b0ar7.jpg I didn't take any pictures
tonight.
Each guest got one tomato, which I'd hollowed out, filled with a drier
than usual version of crawfish etouffee, topped with Ak-Mak crumbs,
and baked. (Making the etouffee this afternoon, I had a lovely
olfactory memory. One begins an etouffee with the Cajun "Holy
Trinity" of bell pepper, onion, and celery. Sauteing the trinity in
the pan, I smelled an aroma that connected me directly with my
grandmother and my childhood. I smelled south Louisiana. I smelled
1959. It smelled good.)
The sauce in the picture is on the tomatoes, but tonight it was beside
and below them. The sauce in the picture is a yogurt and garlic
concoction, but tonight I slogged through the wet grass to the garden
and picked some basil leaves which I chopped and buzzed up with yogurt
and salt. It was well received.
The main meal was sliced chicken with the two jalapeno-based
condiments mentioned above; a rice and parsley salad with minced
onion, lemon juice, mint and olive oil; and slices of red onion and
cucumber marinated in olive oil and some really good unseasoned brown
rice vinegar D picked up at a health food store. Brown rice vinegar
is really good. Who knew?
After I'd mostly finished eating the handyman rang the doorbell. He
wanted to let me know that he'd finished and that during the rainstorm
that swept through Cow Hill while we were eating nary a drip had
penetrated his roofing work. He'd been inside the studio and had
looked hard to verify his claim. I told him to check back tomorrow,
that I had sheetrock issues to discuss, that I'd have time to discuss
his work then, that I had numerous visitors. We agreed to meet in the
morning. I felt kind of bad -- I probably owe him money, and he
certainly needs money. But I need to verify his work before paying.
Dessert was provided by my friend M who made a pecan pie. He won a
blue ribbon for this pie recipe when he was a kid in 4-H. Everyone
agreed: that's one fine pecan pie. I'll take the leftovers to the
office tomorrow. D says pie calls to her in unseemly ways, and it
must leave the house tomorrow.
It just started raining again. Luckily, D got the dogs out to pee
before the shower. Dogs hate rain. I'm not so fond of it myself
tonight.
--
modom
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