Minor misadventures and cooking redemption

 

 

After the eclipse, I would havetold you that for most of the day there was a spot on the moon. Nothingserious, but nothing went quite right.

The major project for todaywas for Jordan and me to go to Christian’s office for covid booster shots,because this is the day once a month that a visiting nurse comes to give shots—awonderful service his company provides its people, and he was going to let metake advantage. Going places in the morning is always a bit of, well, a reachfor me. I much prefer to spend the morning at my computer. But I dutifullydressed in street clothes, even washed my hair so Christian would not be embarrassedby his mother-in-law.

We were early; the nurse waslate. I sat in my transport chair in the hall and tried to keep up with emails.Finally, she arrived—a substitute because the usual nurse, her mother, couldn’tcome today. It’s been six months since Jordan and I had our twin covid cases,and we were finally eligible for the booster. The nurse didn’t have Moderna,only Pfizer, but she assured us we could switch. I said our doctor said not toswitch, and she immediately said to follow the doctor’s advice. So I asked forRSV, which I also need. She didn’t have it. Then she found two doses ofModerna. But she could not take me Humana Medicare. She talked to her mother,who said something to the effect that she loved Christian so much her daughtershould go ahead and give me the shot. I do not understand any of this.

Upshot: I got my covid boosterbut haven’t gotten the RSV shot yet and will probably have to go to a pharmacyfor that.

I was expecting a lunch guesttomorrow (she has since had to postpone until Thursday). Heather was a studentintern in my office at TCU Press more moons ago than she would probably like toremember. She went on to editorial work at Harcourt, and then I lost track ofher. Turned out she had been in San Antonio attending the Culinary Institute ofAmerica. We hooked up again, and when I was working on my cookbook, Gourmeton a Hot Plate, she was a huge help. But we had at that time greatpolitical differences. I suspect she is more forgiving about that than I am. Atany rate, the relationship just sought of drifted into space, but recently sheemailed that she had published a small children’s book and needed marketingadvice. She admitted we probably still have our differences but maybe we couldset them aside. So she’s to come for lunch.

I am seriously challenged bycooking for someone who trained with the CIA, but I found a sort of non-recipeI liked: marinate tomato slices in balsamic vinegar and then top with creamedspinach and grated cheese—run under the broiler until cheese melts and isbubbly. Perfect! So I ordered spinach from Central Market, but it didn’t comewith my weekly order. I was sure I could get it before Wednesday, but today Ithought, “Yikes!” Then Heather emailed to say she has to cover for someone atwork tomorrow (she’s in charge of food service at an extended care facility) ,so I presented her with my dilemma—did she want to bring the spinach or did shewant my signature tuna salad? We have settled on the tuna, and she will be hereThursday.

Tonight was Mary’s regularhappy hour night, and I was so pleased that I had gotten a jar of pickledherring for her—she loves it, and I pretty much do too. But when I was tryingto cut off the cellophane collar on the jar, I noticed my fingers alreadysmelled like the pickling liquid—red flag. And then the lid to the jar poppedoff sort of spontaneously. One unusable jar of pickled herring, and one bigdisappointment. I will call Central Market in the morning—may be too late for arefund, but at least they should know.

But after these mishaps and mykitchen fails of the weekend, I redeemed myself tonight. Central Market hadsent me an unasked-for lb. of ground chicken. They hadn’t charged me for it,and I know they couldn’t take it back, so I had to do something with it. I’vemade chicken burgers in the past and not liked the texture. Lettuce wrapsseemed the perfect solution. I got the copycat recipe online for PF Chang’slettuce wraps, raided Christians supply of Asian seasonings, and made myfirst-ever lettuce wraps with real butter lettuce—a luxury. Served with sugarsnap peas (I’m not sure it wasn’t a mixture of sugar snap peas and snow peas—hardto tell them apart and Central Market may have slipped a bit). It was, if I dosay, delicious, and a recipe I’ll keep and reuse (may have to buy my own sesameoil and hoisin sauce, etc.—I did not use Siracha but substituted the ordinaryHeinz chili sauce I had).

So how was your post-eclipseday? A spot on the moon or all in order?