Rushrushrush

Lots to do this morning, poppets, before 25 people descend on us to eat finger foods and oooo over tiny pieces of clothing.

Baby shower, you know.

Floors to be cleaned, food to be prepared, dishes to do.  And only the time before A. brings Cubby back from their woodsy expedition to get it all done.

I'm out.

Where Have All the Experts Gone?

I don't spend a lot of time watching cooking shows, because, well, I spend that time cooking instead.  It's a participatory activity for me, not entertainment.  But I'll tell you one person I can (and do) watch cook with great entertainment on my part: Jacques Pepin.

I recently got a collection of DVDs from the library entitled The Complete Pepin: Techniques and Recipes.  It's a collection of very short segments detailing the proper way to execute the most basic things.  Like peeling a tomato, for which Jacques Pepin demonstrates no less than four different ways.  He also shows you how to make a decorative rose from the tomato skins, which I am unlikely to ever do, but enjoy watching nonetheless.

What I'm always struck by when I watch the man cook, however, are his amazing abilities with a knife.  He makes cutting, chopping, dicing, slicing, and whatever else look absolutely effortless.  And I love that.  I'm tired of all these celebrity cooks who take great pride in being cooks, not chefs.  Just like you and me!

I don't want to watch someone like me cook.  I want to watch someone like Jacques Pepin cook.  Because it is always more interesting and entertaining to watch an expert do something spectacularly.

I will never be as skilled as Jacques Pepin.  I don't think anyone I've ever seen is as skilled as Jacques Pepin.  He is absolutely an expert at his profession.  But still--and this is the main reason he's my favorite chef of all time--he's unafraid to say things like, "Hey, cook your hamburger however you want!  If you want it well done, have at it!  It's your hamburger.  Also, I like iceberg lettuce on my hamburger, because it's crunchy."  That's paraphrased of course, but you get the idea.  Despite his consummate skill and his extremely traditional French culinary training, he is absolutely not a food snob.  He wants people to cook, to not be afraid of it, to think it's easy and fun.

It'll never be as easy and fun for me as it is for him, but he's sure a lot of fun to watch.

I didn't have a real point to this, except that I think Jacques Pepin is the best thing to come out of a kitchen since pasta, and I wish there were more chefs like him.

That's all.  Have a fabulous weekend, duckies.

Hello There

You never do know what's around the corner at Blackrock.

A Mood Booster

Few things are more beneficial to my mood and cheery outlook on the world (what?  I DO SO have a cheery outlook, dammit) than a day in which the sun is shining, the temperatures are above freezing, and I can hang laundry outside.

Sheets on the clothesline in the middle of January are a happy thing.  If you're me, that is.

Better than Prozac, I guess.

A Little Anti-Climactic

Turns out, there weren't very many details to share about my trip to Arizona.  At least, when I sat down to write it out, I was sort of boring even myself. (Although, a brief mention is indicated about the ridiculousness of the three-inch spike heels worn by the very young flight attendant on the very rinky-dink commuter plane I took for the first leg of my journey.  That girl will be crippled by the age of thirty if she keeps going on that way.)  So I decided to spare you all the inanity and let you get on with your own lives.

You're welcome.

In fact, it seems that bare feet and straight hair sort of summed it up.  So not the most exciting of trips, but satisfying nonetheless.

We won't discuss my reception upon my return home by my own flesh and blood.  There were tears--on both sides--and not of joy.  Apparently, spending all his time with his father had a rather coarsening effect on my already rambunctious son.  So now I have to whip him--and the laundry and the house--back into shape, because we're hosting around 25 people on Saturday for my sister-in-law's baby shower.

When does the fun end?  At Blackrock, never.

Hi

I am home, but I'm afraid a long, unnecessarily detailed talk about my trip to Arizona will have to wait until I've had more than three hours of sleep.  

So, not today.  

In lieu of the details, let me just share a photo.  Of my mom, my sister (that would be the bride-to-be), and me at the bridal shower.  The important thing to note here is that I got my hair straightened (just blown out, nothing permanent) at a salon the day after I arrived in Tucson, and then just left it straight the whole time I was there.  For a very curly-haired person, having straight hair is kind of discombobulating, which is why I don't get it done often.  It's nice to  have something different occasionally, though.