Acorn Pancakes

As advertised, these are very filling and almost tasteless. Anything, however, is good with butter and maple syrup. Beautiful late afternoon, after sunset, high thin clouds lit pink. Pretty much exhausted after a full three days at the work, painting, lifting, walking from one end of the museum to the other. Fetching too, a lot of fetching. Full-tilt boogy for the next eight weeks, then some quiet and I need to go see my folks. The news from Florida not good but not dire, get caught-up at work and go cook for a week. Mom wants the "History Of Crab Cakes" demonstration again. Made a nice batch tonight, honing my skill-set, simple and elegant. Some of the instant mashed potatoes have gotten quite good, the other night I mixed some up and fried a ham steak, red-eye gravy (ham drippings, left-over coffee, salt and pepper, reduced a bit) on everything. Enough left over potatoes, maybe half a cup, to mix with a small can of premium crab, the white part of two scallions chopped fine, that's it. Fried in butter. Red-eye gravy would be good on them too, but red-eye gravy is good on anything. If I have any left-over I usually have it on toast, over scrambled eggs on toast, with crab meat warmed in butter would be really good. Note to buy another ham steak. Thank god we're entering the cooking season, my diet tends toward the seasonal and I've eaten a lot of sliced ripe tomatoes with various cheeses and a balsamic dressing, find myself looking forward to heavier fare. Had an extra twenty minutes at lunch, so did a mini run to Big Lots, looking toward the winter larder. Some upscale Asian noodle dishes, for hot winter lunches when I don't have a soup made, but I'm so ready for soup I don't get that many, even though they're really cheap. I don't worry too much about expiration dates. I start stock piling juice, remembering liquids are heavy and it's a long walk up the hill in snow; tinned pink grapefruit juice (my ex was addicted to this, we bought the stuff by the case when were living remote, which I still am) and several half-gallons of 100% juice, those fucking cocktails are a rip-off, mixtures of pomegranate/blueberry and pomegranate/cranberry. I need ten pounds of Basmati rice and a gallon of cheap olive oil, medium olive oil, I've got plenty of good stuff, but I don't use it much for cooking. Cast a critical eye on the woodpile this evening, and I'm proud of my efforts but there is work to be done. It's in this interface, the connection with the natural world, with the changing seasons, where I feel most comfortable. Where if you're stupid you pay the price. I'm not a daredevil, I'm timid, for god's sake, but I do want something to be on the line. I shot marbles a lot as a kid, I was good at it, something had to be wagered. If you don't take a risk you aren't invested. If your best shooter is on the line, you consider your shots carefully. Pegi, though she doesn't smoke, has started taking smoke breaks with me and Sara. The smoker's lounge, a concrete ledge at the loading dock, has become a happening place. But Pegi does need to be there, because D also smokes just a little, rolls a cig from my pouch so we three can discuss things, Sara, D and me, the janitor, who is trying to keep our collective head above water, and Pegi is the other critical cog. So what Sara said, that I had thought, was perfect, was that Pegi needed to start smoking. Then we could really get some things done. Nicotine all around my brain, and alcohol, and the seeds from a plant that isn't even illegal. A friend that studies these things ask me what I thought. I thought the acorn pancakes were more important. Screw your altered states, reality is more than enough.

Tom

Second thoughts. I'm not sure I wasn't right in the first place. It's a game, I hadn't seen that, you play it, certain pots fall your way, you stack your chips and other people watch.