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Seriously. I love it when March does stuff like this. I know I'm in the minority. And no, it's not because I've had a concussion. I'd still love it. The only thing I don't love is the fact that I'm too chicken to go out for a walk right now. The last gasp of winter is a great time to go for a walk.
Don't forget--you have through this Friday, April 4, to enter the contest to win knitting/food/dog prizes!
Or not.
Not that there hasn't been food (and, blessedly, none of it has been pizza), there's just been nothing worth commenting on. So what to post on Friday?
Well, hey--I realized I missed my third blogiversary a couple of weeks ago. That seems to call for a contest, don't you think?
Hmm, what kind of contest?
I know.
A heart list contest.
This is not a bucket list. Currently I do not plan to kick the bucket, therefore I have no need for a bucket list. My plans are already set--I shall live in decadence until I am many, many years old, ending up in a ramshackle farmhouse somewhere with 114 dogs, all named Jasper. I will not wear purple, nor a red hat. And don't even think of trespassing on my property. Jasper will get you.
But I digress. After I listed some of those actors whom I heart, I heard from many of you who also have hearts (and some of you are misguided in your notion that John Cusack belongs to you--sorry, Kristi, it just had to be said).
So here's the deal. I'm going to recap my heart list. I'll list my favorite actors (based on general sex appeal--my preference, of course) and one movie or TV show that caused them to land on this vaulted list. To enter the contest, you have to add to my list. Leave me a comment with your heart list addition and what role you liked that actor in. You can use one of the same actors I do, but you have to list a different performance.
Here's my heart list:
Colin Firth—Pride and Prejudice
John Cusack—High Fidelity
Hugh Grant—About a Boy
Clive Owen—Shoot ‘Em Up
Anthony Stewart Head—Buffy
James Marsters—Buffy
Johnny Depp—Pirates of the Caribbean (the first one)
The guys who play Sayid and Sawyer on Lost (sorry, I’m too lazy to look up their real names)
George Clooney—Michael Clayton
James McAvoy--The Last King of Scotland (I have Atonement from Netflix, just haven't watched it yet)
I might add that no amount of persuasion will convince me to include Harrison Ford (because of Calista Flockhart) or, sadly, Jake Gyllenhaal (because of Reese Witherspoon). C'mon, guys, you can do better.
The prizes? Well, let's see. This is a knitting blog, so there will be a fibery goodness prize. But it's Friday Food, so there'll also be a foody goodness prize. And because a dog caused me to spend so much time reflecting on this heart list (which I realize is terribly short, but I'm counting on y'all to remind me of what I've forgotten), there'll be a dog prize too. Make sure to note in your comment if you are not a knitter or not a dog owner. I'm assuming everyone's OK with a food prize of some sort.
Oh, and the deadline for this is one week from today, April 4.
Bring it on!
Thanks, everyone, for all the kind comments and wishes. I am recovering, though still have some lingering lightheadedness that--ahem--makes me incapable of emptying the reloading the dishwasher, walking the dog, doing the laundry...I'm leading the life of Dizzy Riley.
And y'all will be thrilled to know that due to the kindness (and paid delivery fee) of those lovely people at Byerly's, we did not have to have pizza for Easter dinner, but instead enjoyed ham and new potatoes and green beans and salad and apple pie. Of course now we will be eating ham for days. It's an improvement.
For those who have asked, knitting has not been part of my life since slamming my head onto the concrete. I find that looking downward at anything makes me queasy, and the only way I could knit would be to hold the knitting directly up at my sight line--very tiring for the arms.
So I have been forced to watch a great deal of TV. Let's recap:
Pride and Prejudice (have I mentioned how much I adore Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy? If not, let me mention it here--I *adore* Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy)
Bridget Jones's Diary (bonus! Colin Firth as Mark Darcy!)
A documentary on political unrest in Haiti (is "political unrest in Haiti" a redundant statement?)
Two episodes of Lost
Fanny and Alexander (I last saw this when it come out in theaters in the mid-80s---wow, it's still really good, if you can last through 3 hours)
My Brilliant Career (didn't think this held up so well from when I saw it in the 80s, though)
Being John Malkovich (OK, let's take a break for a moment and talk about John Cusack. We've got our Colin Firths, our George Clooneys, our Johnny Depps, our Clive Owens (wouldn't the latter make the most perfect Mr Rochester in Jane Eyre??). But John Cusack--I forget about him sometimes. But I really, really heart John Cusack)
Countless episodes of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report (yes, we still stock Americone Dream in our freezer)
Cold Mountain (don't know why I didn't notice the first time, but neither Jude Law nor Nicole Kidman can hold a southern accent to save their souls--although neither was as bad as David Boreanaz trying to hold an Irish accent on Buffy)
Some weird ninja show from Japan the kids found on one of the upper cable channels
I am Legend (I also heart Will Smith--quite fickle, I am)
Two episodes of Reaper (Ray Wise as the devil is brilliant)
Dancing with the Stars
American Idol
On the Beach
And countless episodes of Animal Cops, Animal Precinct, and The Dog Whisperer
These are just the things I actually finished. I'm not counting the ones I started and turned off. I don't remember the last time I watched this much TV in such a short time span (one week! I am decadent). I am not sure this is a good thing.
I am also reading a totally kickass book, All Souls' Rising, by Madison Smartt Bell (the link is up on the left). If reading didn't make me dizzy when I do too much of it, I'd have finished this book by now and would be impatiently tapping my foot, waiting by the door for the postal dude to bring me the next installent.
But as it is, I have logged many hours in front of the tube. And am feeling the duller for it.
Except, of course, for John Cusack. And Colin Firth.
Behold, one of the kitchen counters at Chez Knit Think this week:
Wow! Look at all those dishes! And pots and pans! And half a grapefruit! And an empty gallon of milk! And an empty Cinni-mini box from Pizza Hut! What's that you say, Ms. Knit Think? That's only a drop in the hat, and the whole kitchen looks that way? Goodness, Ms. Knit Think, what's been cooking?
First, some backstory. Last Monday, St. Patty's Day, I took Kentucky Woman out for her demanded walk at 6:20 a.m., in the snow. This proved not to be a very good idea. Half a block from home, she tugged on the leash just as I hit an icy patch--BAM! Down on the ice! Head first! When the rest of the body landed, the head bounced! Stars were seen!
Actually, "seeing stars" is a bit romantic. It was more like seeing lightning bolts. Bright yellow lightning bolts, coming straight for my head.
So I did what any rational person would do--I got myself up, got Holli back (no, unlike Lassie, Holli had no interest in being my helpmate, but rather as soon as I let go of the leash, she went romping through a neighbor's yard in great excitement over new things to sniff), and completed the walk as planned. Crying and holding my head, which was bleeding. And, I might add with shame, not picking up the doggy-doo as I should have. Oh well. It was snowing. No one will see it.
Fortunately DH was still home by the time I returned, and he quickly realized that perhaps I wasn't in the best of shape. The blood was determined not to be serious (he said the back of my head looked like a skinned knee, but no deep cuts of any kind), and I was growing a very nice goose egg. I was sent to bed with an ice bag.
So Monday hurt. But Tuesday--Tuesday really hurt. And that's when the dizzies kicked in. Oh, how the world turned, and swirled, and swooped!
On Wednesday I finally called the doctor. Concussion. But I was told I was through the worst of it, so just hang in there.
I'm hanging in there. The dizziness is getting better. The aches and pains are pretty much gone. It's just the lightheadedness that's doing me in.
You know what? Daytime TV sucks. Thank goodness I still have the six-hour Pride and Prejudice from PBS on DVR (you know the one, with Colin Firth...sigh...perhaps that's why I'm dizzy?). And books galore, although too much reading makes me dizzy.
Food? Well...the first couple of days, my jaws were so sore I could hardly open them. So I was heavy on ice cream and cottage cheese and soup. Then I graduated to peanut butter sandwiches, or grilled cheese. Meanwhile, the rest of the family lived on pizza. I finally made it to pizza. Now we are all really, really tired of pizza. None of which really deserved a photo.
That's it. I got nothin' else to report. Still sorta dizzy, still sorta tired, still don't want any more pizza.
(I should add that as I've been feeling better and gazing upon the countertops, the Mean Mommy in me took over--counters are now emptied, dishwasher's been run, recycling and garbage in their proper bins--why on earth do I have 12 and 14 year old boys, if not to clean the counters???)
Side note to knitters: Don't hate me because I'm beautiful I won the lottery for the Scout's Swag sock yarn!
Before I go on to the ever-important topic of what I've been eating lately, I have to tell a story. Many years ago, after I gave birth to Youngest Son, I lived in a neighborhood that had a committee to organize bringing meals to people who needed them (births, deaths, surgery, etc). Go ahead, laugh if you want, but seriously, it was a great committee. Everyone who wanted to help had a chance, but no one was burdened, and people who could best use meals got them.
Anyway. It was my turn. Eight people were scheduled to bring meals to my door, every other day, once I got home from the hospital and after my mother had left. The first person brought lasagna. Perfect--delicious, hearty, great leftovers, freezes well. The second person brought lasagna. And the third. And the fourth.
Every other day for two weeks, someone brought lasagna. Cheese, spinach, hamburger, sausage, white sauce, red sauce. Lasagna lasagna lasagna.
I hate to sound like I'm complaining. But boy, did we get tired of lasagna. Like chicken, there are almost endless variations--but when you get right down to it, it's lasagna.
I almost cancelled the eighth person, figuring I really couldn't look at another disposable pan filled with some sort of lasagna, and my freezer was already groaning under the weight of the leftovers. But you know how it is when you have an infant--things get away from you. So I didn't call the last person, and she showed up--with chicken. Chicken in mushroom gravy with rice and carrots.
Oh. My. God. I don't think anything I'd eaten before or since has tasted quite that good. I got the recipe from her and have used it several times myself, when taking dinners to people who've given birth, had medical problems, etc.
But that's not the recipe I'm covering today. Someday. Today, I'm happy to report, my love for lasagna is back in full strength. It's one of my favorite comfort foods. A few years without allowed me to return to it with gladness.
I saw this recipe mentioned on someone's blog recently (sorry, I don't remember whose) and it occurred to me that lasagna was indeed a very good thing that we had not eaten in a while. The recipe calls for prosciutto, but I used exactly the amount called for and could barely taste it--so two thoughts: you could leave it out and make a perfectly respectable vegetarian dish out of this, or if you want it, put a lot more in.
First you have to boil 12 lasagna sheets.
Rinse them in cold water and lay them out so they don't get stuck together. Then you make a bechamel sauce for the bottom layer of the lasagna. Then the fun part:
Here's where the bulk of high-calorie goodness comes in. You mix together whole-milk ricotta, Parmesan, an egg, chopped spinach (hey! Something healthy!) and the aforementioned prosciutto. Spoon a little out onto each lasagna noodle, something Youngest Son enjoyed doing:
Then roll 'em up from the short end, so they make little individual lasagna portions, and plop them in the baking pan on top of the bechamel sauce. When they're all rolled up, cover them with marinara (I cheated and used jarred, but it was Rao's, so it was tasty), blanket in mozzarella and more Parmesan:
Cover with foil, bake for 20 minutes, uncover and bake for about 15 more minutes.
Serve with extra marinara on the side.
Oh, my. This is very tasty indeed. Everyone at Chez Knit Think loved it. And guess what--it makes good leftovers, and it freezes well.
Just don't serve it to a sleep deprived new mother.
Welcome to Extreme Dinner Makeover, the Ribs Edition!
I promise that, unlike Ty Pennington, who, cute though he may be, cries just a bit too often on each episode of Extreme Home Makeover (he's in serious danger of outpacing Michael Landon in Little House on the Prairie in the waterfall department), there will be no tears in this episode. Only lip-smacking, stomach-filling, soul-expanding ribby goodness.
First, the ugly truth. Raw pork ribs. Well, they could be worse looking, I suppose. Like, say, if you poached them for an hour or so.
Yeah. Blah poached ribs. They just don't call out EAT ME! YOU'LL LOVE ME! Sure, they do taste good plain, but why live with plain when there's a better way?
Enter the clay pot, or Romertopf. This is another discovery I made some time ago in the "please let me find a way to safely cook meat without turning it into leather or dust" explorations. This little gem is a wonder of a cooker. You pop ribs in it, cover with water, chopped onions, whole black peppercorns, and a few tablespoons of vinegar, and put it in the oven. The trick is that you soak the clay pieces for at least 15 minutes before putting the dish into a cold (yes, cold) oven. The heat needs to rise slowly so the clay doesn't crack.
After an hour, pour off the water, then add BBQ sauce, and cook for another hour. Oh my.
Oh my oh my oh my.
I imagine you could use store-bought BBQ sauce, but I prefer my own, a recipe my mother gave me. It's very tart, not sweet. You saute chopped onion and celery in butter, then add ketchup, vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, mustard, brown sugar, lemon juice, salt, and water. Simmer for about 45 minutes. By which time your mouth is watering and you're fairly dizzy with desire from the amazing aroma flooding your home. But you still can't eat it right away--as I mentioned, you have to pour it over the ribs and bake for another hour. At that point, you're slathering and drooling, and all you can think about is RIBS RIBS RIBS.
And then you take them out of the clay pot, and you pour extra sauce on them, and you eat them--with your fingers, of course, otherwise what's the point?--and the meat is all juicy and tender and slides right off the bones. And everyone is moaning and slurping sauce off their fingers. And the dogs are pacing around the table, whimpering. And the children are fighting over who gets the last rib, and you settle it by taking it for yourself.
Well. Maybe you wouldn't do that. I am not quite so selfless a mother as to give up the last rib.
This is awfully good with homemade potato chips. For that you need to thinly slice potatoes (Miss T. has a good tutorial with a mandolin here). Then you fry them in oil. BUT--before they're fully cooked, take them out of the oil, drain them on a paper towel, and let them cool for a bit. Then fry 'em again. Soooooooooooo good. Especially with sour cream.
...that make me cranky:
Normally I do not do politics on this blog, but this is driving me nuts. Above is the headline in the editorial section of the newspaper yesterday. This concept that women should vote for Hillary because she's a woman, or blacks should vote for Obama because he's black--heaven help the black female! Now what would anyone say to a suggestion that white males should vote for John McCain because he's a white male? How about we focus on what each candidate brings to the table politically and in terms of leadership potential and go from there?
Then, as if I wasn't crabby enough:
I normally love the Target ad, but good heavens--are they suggesting that the highlight of my spring break will be to go to Target and buy laundry detergent? Wow, that's depressing.
As it turns out, the "your spring break destination" was on a separate page with pictures of swim trunks. But the page itself is longer, so it rises right about the Wheaties. Not really a very good marketing approach.
Fortunately, all is not lost. I won a contest at Three Dog Blog!
A 2008 calendar filled with pictures of Laurie's beautiful dogs. I think this one is my favorite:
Awwwwwwww........
I think we should vote for the Christmas dog for president.
