Tub o' Spuds

I was offered to split a 50lb bag of potatoes with a co-worker, not really knowing what 25 lbs of spuds really looked like. Let's see, I said to myself... an average bowling ball weighs about 12 lbs, so put two of them together and there you go Carolyn! You can for sure handle two of those and get a 300 in the yummy meal league.

The potatoes were loaded by C into my car during the lunch hour. So when I plopped down into it at the end of the day, I wondered why exactly my body immediately tilted to the right.

Then I looked over at the passenger seat.

It was Attack of a Thousand Killer Spuds. And I was about to commit the fatal flaw of every female in a horror flick: sitting and screaming until they devoured me. Apparently I'll have to eat my way out of this to survive.

Bring it on.



I took out 13 of them there taters to make twice-baked potatoes. Most of them to be frozen.

This is not for the faint of heart...



...or for people with OCD.

But if you can handle the war against killer potato innards, then forge ahead. You won't be sorry.

Who could be with bacon, sour cream, and cheese. Pretty sure that's the basis of happiness.

After all was prepped, I took one last glance at those little guys before their journey to the baked heaven.



3 pans of twice-baked potatoes and later, 3 more pans of french fries.

I'm sure I made a dent in the tub, right?

Right?



 

Gulp.

Garlic Chicken Alfredo Pizza

2 posts a week, this is going to be my goal.

Just returned from a weekend with the sisters, the sister-in-law, and the mother and had a great time. More on that later. At one point, we talked pizza, and how we make it. Carolyn likes her some pizza, ya'all. Well, I realized that I've never posted about the yummy chicken alfredo pizza night a few weeks ago.

I've finally found a way to make a thin crust that will allow me to eat twice as much pizza without feeling guilty.

It's called: Rolling Out The Dough.



Here's the dough recipe, if you're interested:

• 1.25 active dry yeast


• 1 cup warm water


• 1/2 tsp salt


• 2 tsp oil


• 2.5-3.5 cups flour

Dissolve yeast in warm water. Add salt, oil & 2.5 cups flour. Mix in your mixer at medium speed and add rest of the flour 1/2 cup at a time until dough clings to hook and cleans side of the bowl. Take out the dough and knead for a couple minutes, then place in greased bowl, turning to grease all sides of dough. Cover, let rise in warm place (I put it on top of the dryer) for about an hour. Punch down dough, divide in two, and then roll roll roll.

This makes two pizza crusts.



I take a couple handfuls of chopped garlic and spread on dough.



And then drizzle with olive oil. Put in preheated oven at 400 and bake just the crust for about 10 minutes.



While that is baking, I like to boil (yes, I said BOIL) a few chicken breasts. After cooked, chop it up while defrosting some frozen spinach.

When the crust is ready, pull it out, put on the toppings and then pour 1/2 bottle of Garlic Alredo Sauce on each pizza. Do it.

Put it back in the oven for another ten minutes....



And voila. I was too excited to take photos the night of our dinner, so this is my breakfast the next day. YUM.

Beware of Freckles.

We were supposed to go to this a month ago. But it didn't happen.

It was a Dutch Oven Workshop at a nearby state park. We woke up early on a saturday morning, actually put on work-out clothes and did a workout (as opposed to putting on work-out clothes and then heading to a breakfast joint for bacon and white gravy), boiled up some hot coffee for our thermos, and hit the road.

Literally 2.5 miles into the drive, R asked me to hand over the thermos for a quick drink. I laughingly said, "Maybe you should watch the road. Remember what happened the other night?" and then, feeling guilty, I gave in and gave him the lid for sip. He took his eyes off the two lane country road and..

BALUMP.

The tire popped.

I sat there sitting in the nearest driveway telling myself to schedule a massage asap or there was going to be a warrant out for little miss carolyn.



You see, a few nights prior we had visited some friends for dessert and on the way to their house another incident happened. A "I'm glad no children were riding their bikes along the sidewalk" type of one.

A right-hand turn into their neighborhood caused R's head to slightly face me. In doing so, the freckles on my legs caught his attention. And if any of you know R, you are quick to realize that he cannot do more than two things at once. So why not test this theory while driving a one ton piece of machinery, shall we?

He saw the freckles and proceeded to lean over to point out each of them with this right index finger. He repeated "freckle, freckle, freckle, freckle".



And I looked up at the same instant our car hit the curb, and then hit the grass next to the curb, and then the sidewalk next to the grass next to the curb.

R was still pointing out freckles. It wasn't until I screamed that he jerked the car back onto the road.

Now our already dirty, no-muffler-because-it-still-runs-fine-and-we-don't-like-spending-that-extra-money-on-that-car car makes a weird scraping sound anytime we make a left hand turn. Great.

Thank you melanin.



So our flat tire happened on the way to the first class and they offered to move us to the second one the following month.

And here we are. Only two other couples attended: one from South Africa, the other from Texas. We slipped into the back and I spied the menu on the board.



Ahhhhh yeaaaaah. (Side note: Does anyone else remember the show were two guys would rub their bums in chocolate pudding while saying Ahhhh yeaaaaah? Or am I the only one who gets that visual every time.)

Well, anyway, if pudding had been on the menu, I probably would've had to reenact that skit for the class, so let us all bow our heads in thanksgiving that it was not.



Each couple paired off to do a dish. R was stuck with me even though when asked if we all wanted to stay with our spouses, he responded without glancing "Is she watching me as I answer? Then, fine."

'Preciatecha, R.

(Remember? That was the first Arkansas slang I heard when we moved down here. 'Preciatecha. Another since moving to a smaller town: "So-and-so is a mess." I've discovered this can be used as an insult or affectionately. With the wide range of uses, you can imagine how often it's thrown out there and for some reason it takes all that I have to swallow a low guttural growl each time it's said. I know what you're thinking..... I'm a mess.)



R and I tackled the Charley Bread which was a basic corn bread recipe with a can of creamed corn added.

Hello!

Mama hasn't been fed this good in a looong time! And by long, I mean since about 8 that morning. Each meal seems like eons since the last...and my mouth was beginning to water, especially every time they opened the peach cobbler lid to check on it.



R checked on our bread and it was coming along nicely. We used the stacking method of heating the dutch oven which threw the time to cook it off. So it ended coming out around the same time as dessert.  No one complained.



And then we all sat down for our picnic in the woods. R and I chatted it up with the park ranger, because he graduated from K-State too! What a small world.

It was a good class, I'd take another one. We ending up buying a dutch oven from them and we're so excited to put it to use.

If anyone has any tips or recipes, I'd love to have them!

Eggrolls

This was a crowd pleaser with the roommates. I thought they were a bit too greasy, which is odd since for the longest time I had convinced myself that grease was an ancient magical substance passed down from one tribal medicine man to another. And then finally one medicine man went to college and shared it with everyone suffering from headaches early one saturday morning. And then the world calmed thyself.

[let's all have a moment of silence for that wonderful substance]



But anyway, I still felt like these could've been dabbed a while longer with a paper towel. It was quite an easy recipe. Cabbage, meat, other veggies that i can't think of right now, some oyster sauce and voila: the inside is complete.

I even saved some of the cabbage for our livestock outside. And then later read that cabbage gives them gas.

Well, suck it up and join the club, I say.



We don't have a fry-daddy, so I just dipped them in some olive oil.



And presto! Here they are. I probably made 20 or so and they were gobbled up fast.

If you think about it, it's basically kind of like a one pot meal. Just add a side of grease for dipping sauce, and you're done!

Gravy - Fail.

I'd like to make a good biscuits and gravy. There's one snag though.

I have no clue what I'm doing.

It doesn't help that I have my mom's voice in my head saying how gravy is the one thing she is nervous about making. I know you're rolling your eyes, mom. I remember positive things you say as well...they're just not as fun to talk about, though.

So here is my first foray in this gravy business. And yes, I cheated by using frozen biscuits. Carolyn can not try two new things at once. The circuits in her brain will explode and R will have to clean that as well as the laundry.

Let's keep the chores to a minimum, thank you.



Any gravy makers out there? Did I not brown it enough? How much flour should I add? I used my saved bacon grease but just glopped some in the pan without measuring. Is there a good tried-and-true recipe you've used? What about pepper? I pulled an Alice in Wonderland scene and peppered ourselves right out of the dorm room. Too much? Too little?

HELP.

The eggs were alright.

Sugar with a Handle

When a sugar bag has a handle on it, you know you're going off the deep end. I don't care.

We went almost two weeks without bread because I made up excuses as to why I didn't have time to bake it. There is nothing so disheartening as knowing you can't even make a measly sandwich if your stomach growls. Not even a PB&J. When I was craving grilled cheese and soup while sick last week, R ran to the store to buy a loaf.

I've never heard so much hissing and yelling in my life. He expressed over and over how much he wished it were the bread I usually make. I didn't show it, but boy did that make me feel proud of what I had been accomplishing in the baking department.



After that episode, I made sure I'd have enough supplies for the upcoming months. Partly because I need to get a little more farmwife in me (i.e. discipline), and also because we are setting a strict lunch routine.

Everyday we are going to have the same thing to eat, with a little variation in 'type'. A sandwich, yogurt, vegetable, string cheese, and maybe a dessert. I don't use sugar in my bread, honey instead, but we do like our banana bread and chocolate cake, so I stocked up for that maybe factor. We will make the lunches the night before and not worry about it in the morning.

Little things. We're learning.

But this menu requires bread, folks, and a steady supply of it.



So I got started.

This time around, though, Miss Carolyn got wild and crazy. She added oats. Yes, that's my partying side when it comes to bread. One day I'll even attempt sourdough starter.

Can I get three snaps in a Z-formation, please?



But for now, I'll stick to my sometimes awkwardly shaped, whatever flour I have on hand, bread. Don't let R's yawn fool you, it really is exciting.

Icy with a dash of baking

Yes, it's definitely white around here. And work has been cancelled.

This means that PBS's Masterpiece Theatre has been watched, bread has risen (and is about to get punched down - my favorite part. Too much aggression?), apartment neighbors will be visited with freshly baked bread (Sara, my ESL friend, lives nearby!), those bananas will be turned into banana bread cupcakes, and flight tracker will be stalked.

R and I are set to leave tonight and visit my brother. I am refreshing the screen obsessively hoping everything stays the course.

Until then, I've got some baking to do.

Crocks

We had a couple days off from school this past week due to weather, so I ice skated my way to some antique stores. I always try to have a game plan before entering these fun-filled edifices. If not, I'll wander aimlessly and you'll find me in the corner many days later overdosing on other people's memories. It's not good.

One of the items on my list was a crock. My co-worker gave me a recipe for biscuits and gravy, but she suggested I use leftover bacon grease.

Whaaat?



You see, it's these little things that I just never think of. This is just one more way to extend the food I eat. Another similar idea is the sourdough starter for bread. I'll be trying that someday soon once I get some courage. I don't know why it intimidates me so. But absolutely no yeast needed. Kneaded is needed. But not yeast, and the starter just grows and grows and grows. A new deliciously informative blog I found has already helped at least prepare my mind for this feat. Here's her post on sourdough.

So, anyway, I found two crocks and immediately strained the grease into one of them through a cheesecloth.



And there she be. I know, I know.. you're wondering why I just don't wash my hair for a day and use that grease. That wouldn't taste good on biscuits, silly.



My other crock I used on the side of the stove, where I store utensils and other frequently used ingredients. Remember, we live in a teeny apartment, so any space is crucial. Above is how it was before...



And here's the after. The new crock just freed up an entire drawer in the kitchen. Sweet!

Oh, and guess what else I bought? A pressure cooker/canner. A co-worker owns 100 acres and has offered to set up a garden this summer.

I. AM. STOKED.

Butter, please.

..and I guess a few walnuts with phyllo dough.

Gotta love baklava. No pictures were obtained of individual pieces due to them having been promptly eaten (by me) during the plating process.

On another note, would you like some insight into how a one-car family enjoys below freezing weather?

1. Well, they tend to walk out to find their one-car's doors frozen shut.
2. With some jiggling, they normally manage to get the passenger door open.
3. Said one-car takes a few minutes to get to a freezing temperature (you know, as opposed to below-freezing) as they drive to work.
4. Upon arrival, passenger tries to open the door only to find they are both frozen shut, trapping owners within.
5. It is quickly realized by both driver and passenger that no amount of jiggling will open the doors.
6. Driver of the car then rolls down and climbs through the window.
7. He/She walks to the passenger side and jiggles the door open for passenger.

...and repeat.

Is this the so-called character building part of my life?

my reward for not calling in sick last week, even though I wanted to.

We've been holed up here today, trying to get over whatever bug is making us feel lowsy. I did go to my knitting class, but quickly came home and have hardly moved from the sofa.

Last night, neither of us wanted to make dinner. That is, until we watched Survivor. (yes, still watch this darn show. I think I'm addicted.)

And then we saw it during the reward challenge: burger... french fries... beer...

Oh my, we looked at each other and exlaimed, "We need that. Now."

So, as if we had not eaten in 30 days, we piled up the plates with our own reward challenge.

The only challenge here was to not use too much mayo. Does anyone else do that?

And can I say that I will never go back to frozen french fries? First of all, so much cheaper with plain 'ol taters. Secondly, so much tastier. Unfortunately, I did not make the buns. I've made buns before and they took me forever, but came out okay. I need to try again, but this was an emergency. We needed them stat to gorge our faces.

Our sicky heads were happy last night. So very, very happy.

Thank you, Pete.

My favorite NY baker hooked me up this weekend. He's one of the (many) blogs I read listed to the right.

He baked an apple pie with crumble topping and made it look so darn easy that I thought I could manage it. I've gotta take this pie-making business in baby steps. So the three lovely words "pre-made pie crust" gave me a big smile. If he suggested it, then well...I guess I better follow the recipe to the T, right?

He did give a link to the crust recipe he normally uses, which I'll tackle one of these days when I've got my big girl pie-making panties on.

Not tonight though.

We stopped through a little town today that was known for their apple orchards back in the day. It's slowed down a bit, but we still popped in to buy some straight-off-the-tree-and-piled-into-a-bag apples.

At home, they went right into my hanging basket. Ah, it gave my OCD such pleasure to see all baskets filled.

I quickly donned my new apron, a birthday present made lovingly by my friend K. Then onto the laptop where I watched....(and this is where I hesitate. Deciding if I should share. But only for a few seconds)... how to core and peel apples.

Look people, it's only been the past few years that I've started cooking. Give a girl a break.

Awww, look at them. Why did this intimidate me? They were willing and able, and I made it through with no cuts.

Into the oven the pies went (one will be frozen for a quick reheat later on) while R and I practiced our Thriller moves. That is coming up next weekend..and from the laughs I've already expended, it should be a good time.

Note to self: Buy a pie server.

The Little Things...

Or in this case, one big thing gets me excited. (I heard that, Office watchers.)

One of my favorite antique stores in a small town just north of us is building something big. And to me, it makes me grin every time I see it.

It's a covering for a farmers market. Why does that make me happy? Because as of right now, there's a splattering of random vendors set up in parking lots, street corners, and other places that catch you off guard.. not at all coordinated time-wise either.

No saturday morning shopping. More like driving home from work and oh what is that over there shopping. Which, don't get me wrong, is fun too.

You know, to stop spontaneously and pick up a few good tomatoes. A few good tomatoes. Tell me about the sauce. You can't handle the sauce.

Nevermind.

The only good saturday morning one-stop marketplace is about 45 minutes away. Thumbs down.

But this. This! Only 5 minutes.

Joy.

Grand Canyon Pt 1

You must forgive the rather off-kilter formatting of this particular post. When I began uploading photos, I also started to watch 'Remains of the Day'. Having never seen it, I was quite distracted (and have since tried to talk and write with a hint of British in every line.)

But I'm back to my normal American self and ready to talk about our quick adventure to the Grand Canyon.

R, N, A, & I (or C, because my name doesn't start with an I, yet it may appear so due to the grammatical construction of the sentence. You know, to the millions of people reading this blog who don't know me.) Well, anyway, R, N, A, & I/C packed up our 30 bags full of camping gear Friday night and headed to the airport. Again, like the our flight to Little Corn Island (see post here), I had never been on one so entertaining. But this time it was because of the flight staff. The man describing the plane, the placement of luggage, the general procedures of the flight talked non-stop for 5 minutes, intentionally.

It was an act, you see. A performance.

He made fun of the passengers, teased the work staff, and provided interesting information about the upgrades to the planes.

When he finished (and finally took a breath), most everyone (including me) actually clapped. I'm a thespian-lover. They could be street performers or opera singers, it really doesn't matter. Because if they're good, they're good. And they deserve recognition fortheir talent.

So, I'm running away to join the flight attendants. If only for the free peanuts.

But wait! It wasn't over! After everyone had been boarded onto the plane, a lady came onto the loud speaker and announced "I've found a black wallet at the front of the plane, here. It looks to be a man's wallet....Okay, good! Now that I have your attention, Let's start the safety procedures."

Everyone laughed and, dare I say, actually listened to the procedures? Well, we knew N would either which way. He's been pretty jittery since a terror flight he had recently.

It didn't help when the pilot came on mid-flight and announced "If you look to the left, you will see [insert some geographical formation]. But don't everyone lean to look at once, you'll tip the plane." And later, when R teasingly asked N during some turbulence, "So when do you think this plane would have arrived?" No laughs that time.

We landed arounded 7ish, picked up our rental car, bought food & supplies, and headed to our destination. Having arrived around midnight, A & I/C watched the boys put tents up by moonlight. An hour later, it started pouring. We had made it just in time.

After only a few hours of sleep, R was put in charge of making breakfast in the morning of which he did a great job. Nothing beats a good camping breakfast. Especially with some wildlife to watch while eating... If you look closely to the photo on the left (you can click to enlarge it), you just might see another friend of ours eating her breakfast.

We slowly got around to head down to the canyon, a couple shuttle rides away. N made some sandwiches that consisted of about 95% peanut butter and 3% bread. The other 2% were air bubbles created by my shocked exclamations.

We made it to the canyon, admired it's grandness (no pun intended) and then quickly shifted our attention to something infinitely more fun. Squirrels! Despite the ominous signs showing bloody chunks taken out of fingers, we snuck pieces of food to the skinny squirrels thinking we were their only lifeline to survival.

After reading more signs asking each of us to please not die, we started down the Bright Angel Trail. This was touted as being popular, steep, with water. Some of the trails do not have water, therefore detouring some individuals. At one point we saw a young man climb out onto a outer rock to take photos. Our eyes widened, me with fear and the boys with excitement.

Oh, lordie. This is going to be a long walk, I can feel it.

The views were nice on this one... if only a bit narrow. It's like seeing a sliver of the sky, knowing what the rest probably looks like, but unable to feel the full magnitude of it. But that was okay. Why? Because we got to see mules. And boy was I excited to pass by them.

I had read "the rules", that hikers are to stay put (!) next to the inner wall and not to move. I took this very seriously.

Until the last mule literally shot out poop in front of me. And when I say shot out, I mean it was a horizontal excavation. That's when I lost it....and squeeeealed. Not sure if that was the wisest thing to do while it was carrying a man next to the cliff's edge, but now I know my natural reaction to that sort of situation. Apparently I make a noise similar to the animal involved. Just imagine me next to a donkey.

It took about an hour to get to our turning point. The bathrooms. We refilled our water bottles, ate some trail mix, and started our way back up. We were so happy walking down, skipping along at times, laughing & joking. It would be the same on the return trip, right? Right?

No. In fact, I think I would have been left for dead....

...if not for this woman. She joined us kind of last minute on this trip, and am I glad she did. Because do you know how long it took for the guys to compete against each other to see who could hike fastest up the trail? Nano seconds. The only part of them that stayed with us was their dusty wake.

A tried to talk to me a few times. She gave up after I didn't respond. Not that I wouldn't respond. I couldn't. First of all, all I could hear was blood pouding on my temples and if some sort of noise phrased in a question actually reached my ear drums, I only whispered my answer through gasps of breath.

My brain and eye sockets were so much on fire that I didn't even notice the guys' backpacks laying on the rocks next to where we saw the guy climb out onto the rock. I was forging on, determined to get to the point.

So even when R and N stepped out, thinking they've pulled a good practical joke, my brain cells were too fried to figure out if it was funny or not.

We made it home within the next hour and collapsed around the fire. I had wanted to go to a Moon Walk which was offered around a full moon (which coincidentally was Labor Day weekend), but agreed that sitting on my bum with a good glass of red would be much more enjoyable.

So that's what we did. We chit-chatted, listened to N's adaptation of 'Tales from the Crypt', and went to bed early.

We had to be up at the crack of dawn to join a hike led by a park ranger. It would be on another trail with some of the most spectacular views of the canyon I've ever seen. I was a happy camper.

Up next: Grand Canyon Pt 2