Grooming

Rain all day so all those new drone owners will have to wait to play with their toys. I was up so late that I slept in until my sister called with the Mom update. Hash and eggs for breakfast, then read books about food all day, making a few notes on where to find certain information and posting it where I keep a few recipes thumb-tacked to the wall. I love John Thorne. Too rainy for the usual holiday walk. I cycle through and clean another of the five-gallon buckets, filling the stock pot with wash water. Wash dishes, then myself, get an early dram, and finish another Elmore Leonard. Get everything out for dinner. It takes ten minutes to prepare and fifteen minutes to cook, and I cook it on a hotplate because it's too warm for a fire. Oyster stew is one of the great things in the universe. I steam them just to get them starting to open in a little wine and clam juice, shuck them, strain the broth, heat milk and cream (1x1), never boiling, slide in the oysters, add a walnut of butter, and simmer until the edges curl. This takes about four minutes. I roll up the flounder fillets around the crab-cake filling, secure them with carrot spears, put a dollop of mayo on each, salt and pepper. I would do them in a hot oven, but braising in a skillet with a lid works fine, a little wine and clam juice. They cook maybe eight minutes. I spent a lot, for me, on this meal, $14.60, but I'll get a second meal out of it because I only used half of the oysters and cream, and only ate two of the four roll-ups. The Brussels Sprouts were wonderful, but I only ate half. Retired to my chair with a glass of whiskey and rolled a smoke. I'm too self-satisfied, I feel like I must be missing something. Like the other foot is sure to fall. Since I didn't start a fire, I just store the left-overs in the oven, and marvel that I cooked such a fine meal on a hotplate, and that I have a perfect brunch, waiting for tomorrow. Rain is forecast for days. In other years this could be several feet of snow. Usually it turns off cold by the first of the year and everything freezes, and I haven't even put on long underwear. Still, 60 tough days coming up, the dead of winter, and I need to be ready for that. I think I am, I don't think I've missed anything, but our interaction with the world is fraught with confusion, and we never know what anyone else means, nor exactly what we need. We cooperate, build things, but we're separate monads. I read a surprisingly large number of recipes for beaver and beaver tail, because Hal and Ronnie, both on the creek, trap in winter. Beaver is actually quite good, almost as good as woodchuck, and much better than muskrat. Passed the evening, slept to the rain, then today dawned with much more intense rain, and I continued to read food writers until I was forced to make another one-serving pot of oyster stew. This is always made in single servings. I just micro-waved the roll-ups, and dampened them with some of the braising liquid. I forgot about the Brussels Sprouts, and ate them as a separate course, with a butter/lemon sauce that was excellent. I should be able to get out and in, between downpours, in the next few days, and I have a list of things where I've dipped into the 'backup', and I need to get a new backup. A priority of things, actually, because some of the things don't require immediate attention, salt or toothpaste, for instance, but other things, like eggs and cheese, require more immediate attention; further prioritized by weight, whether or not it's something I actually need to carry up the hill on my back. If you limit yourself to seasonal produce and a small piece of meat, you hardly notice the load. Some shrimp for a fried rice isn't much to carry. Barnhart and I discussed fried rice, when he called today, to say he would hike in as soon as conditions were favorable. Since he has a book for me, and usually brings a bottle of whiskey, I hope it happens soon. Also, of course, the conversation. Sitting around the fire, talking about when the elk crossed the river, when the Larkspur (or whatever) was blooming. I'm blessed with very bright friends; we can talk music theory or Italian cooking, song birds or the toppings we prefer on a pizza. I do or not even have to know what day it is, which most people need to know; it doesn't matter to me whether it's December or last June.