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.

Wrapping Up

From here on out, it will be current or semi-current updates. But this is what we get for me taking a small sabbatical.

Hands down, my favorite part of christmas this year was playing student in Miss E's class. If this girl doesn't do something where a crowd of eyes are staring at her, then there's no hope for any of us. She's a natural performer.

Setting up shop in front of the fireplace

Reviewing the class rules: 1) Be quiet while teacher is talking. 2) Raise your hand if you have a question. 3) Tell the teacher if you need to use the bathroom. 4) No interruptin'

I thought she added the accent on #4 for my benefit since I'm further south than she is. And when I did in fact interrupt, at least she didn't try to please the Arkansas in me by saying "Oh C, you're a mess." You remember my disdain for that phrase... here.

K had #2 down pat, and R needed a tutor for this subject apparently.

My other favorite parts of the day? Here's just a few:

Helping prep the food with mom in our aprons.

Gut laughs during our White Elephant party with the cousins, aunts, & uncles.

And last but certainly not least, passing around the sick baby doll and giving him shots in the rear.

 

And the winner is...

What happens when you mix two girls, one of which is due soon, and two dueling chicken restaurants in Pittsburg, KS?  Honestly?Mostly heartburn. But at least there's laughter along the way.

My friend, J, and I met up at Fort Scott, KS to enjoy one last get together before baby H is born. We were coming from opposite directions so this little town seemed a good midway point. I found a hotel right smack in the middle of downtown, in which all streets were bricked.

You know that made me happy.

We pulled up to our hotel, waved at the owner and hopped out.

Move it, J. I know you've just driven a couple hours and need to relax, but we've got some eating to do... and Momma Carolyn is hungry.

Here was the plan:

 

 

VS

 

 

This is not for the faint of heart, my friends. You need to train diligently for this type of assault. No sit-ups, no portioning, and definitely no dieting. Eat grease, nap, and conveniently forget where you put the scale.

I've been in training for this night it seems since the day I was born.



But first, we had to check out the barracks.

And this was our first test. Could we walk in to a multitude of patterns on the bed and the wall without losing focus? J held up well. I, on the other hand, had to sit down and put my head between my legs for a second.

Luckily I only wear solids, otherwise J would've lost me in there.



We didn't waste any time, but headed to our first destination: Chicken Mary's.

Before I get into our analysis of each restaurant, can I point out that J only has two months to go before she's due (not to mention the fact that she's wearing horizontal stripes!)? Don't make me cuss, J.

She looks like me after Thanksgiving dinner. So I was more than happy to shove fried chicken in her mouth.

I don't have as many photos of Chicken Mary's as I do Chicken Annie's, so I'll give you a brief description. We walked in and me, being a bundle of nerves, walked up to the check out lady and asked her seat us. She pointed us to the right person who graciously led us to a corner table. The room was busy and it felt cozy. Country decor, candle on the table.

The waitress, whose name we did not write down (oh yes, folks, we took notes) advised us to *not* drink the tap water. She looked horrified at our suggestion that we could.

J loved the potato salad, stating "It has a dill taste." This is of course after she took a nibble and rolled it around in her mouth like a Top Chef judge. I could only taste potato.  The applesauce was sweeter than Motts, which we later found out had cherry mixed in.

We loved the thigh, to which we agreed, that once you go thigh you just can't go back. The fried skin on all pieces were perfect: crunchy & greasy, or, how we justified it, "juicy."

Then it was off to Chicken Annie's.



We walked there from Chicken Mary's as they are literally side by side, and appreciated the brief reprieve from grease. I spotted a windmill and it instantly got a plus sign in my book.

We entered into a more open floorplan, which made it seem less busy. I had no confusion as to who was the hostess. She took us to a corner table as well, however this one was not yet ready and the cooks in the kitchen yelled at someone to come clean it. Open floorplan, remember.

I guess Annie would've yelled from the kitchen too. Authenticity? check.



Our waitress, Carly, instantly sat down with us to discuss the menu.

She said to J, and I quote "You can drink it. I like the water, but I'm weird." Chicken Mary's - no water. Chicken Annie's - yes water.

We're getting somewhere.

We devoured our meal and discussed:

J thought the potato salad was greasier, with more of saur kraut taste. I could only taste potato. The applesauce was plain. The chicken skins were not extra crispy and the white meat surprisingly ended up being juicer than the dark.



By the looks of my hands, it appears that I was slowly turning into a chicken myself.



Let's take a look at a few more comparisons:

• CM - no stuffed chicken in lobby. CA - chicken proudly displayed.


• CM - smaller butter, but no trans fat. CA - HUGE, but with hydrogenated oil.


• CM - no arcade corner/living room. CA - yes, in which we both dilly-dallied.


• CM - total $12.45  CA - total $9.39 (however, I did buy a lottery ticket at CA and won a dollar, so make that $8.39)


• CM - only lettering on sign. CA - lettering and a chicken that spoke.

The verdict?

Chicken Mary's won on the actual chicken dish. Chicken Annies? Ambiance & Creativity. Who can beat looking eye to eye with the animal you just enjoyed.

Did you think we ended there, though?



Heck no! We took our wild and crazy selves, back to our 20-toned room for some dessert. Chocolate on graham crackers, cheeze whiz style.

J asked if I could make her one. Little did she know that my chocolate to cracker ratio is about 300 to 1.

She didn't touch it.



Afterwards, we watched TV and knitted for a couple hours. Looks like I was trying to knit a spider web of sorts.

But it didn't take long before we fell asleep into a grease-induced coma.



The next morning we hopped on a guided tour of Fort Scott.

We were the only ones on it.

The announcer said that if we had any questions, to feel free and ask him. I did several times and he never answered. Ah, I felt right at home, Fort Scott. Or shall I call you Scott from now on?



The town has got some real beauties of architecture. I was so engrossed with it that I didn't realize how stupid it was to not have a lid on my steaming coffee. Several third-degree burns later, I was still enjoying the views.

It was a quick trip; we only stayed a night and left before noon the next day. But like every time I hang out with J, it's never the amount of time, but the quality. I so enjoy her! Can't wait to make these trips a trio with baby H.

Just in case you were wondering..

Here are some dos and don'ts of  deciding to camp while attending a dance workshop on a blistery cold & windy weekend.

Yeah, go ahead and pack a really yummy healthy lunch. Some no-knead bread, a jar of carrot juice, maybe even some avocados.



And, sure, why not make a cozy fire to sit around.



Yes, of course use your new cast iron skillet skills for supper that night. You know, the ones you learned at this class. Only, try not to get a flat tire.



But do not.

I repeat, Do Not....



only pack skirts to wear, because you want to "look cute". You will freeze your ass off and you'll also get such a bad cold that it will threaten your Food Network getaway with a girlfriend the following weekend.

Just in case you were wondering, that is.

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.

Fly me to the moon.

It really backfired on him, this surprising me with a trip and planning out the major details thing. Because, before, I would do all of the planning and never knew of this state of being called "laid-back." I just thought that was a synonym for lazy.

Um, no. It's not. In fact, it's a synonym for happy and hungry. Because that's what I was the whole trip.

I knew something was going down, folks, I'm not gonna lie. Everytime I suggested we do something over last weekend, my question was deflected. And R is normally not a planner. So for him to continually push aside someone else's pre-packaged idea raised red flags.

So did his question to me, "Carolyn, if we were going to go to Hot Springs, what make-up would you bring? No don't just point them out, pile them up at the end of the counter and leave them there."

Hmm... so I"m taking it we're going to Hot Springs. (This shows that I didn't think R planned ahead even to formulate a hypothetical situation.)



I went to work and R planned to pick me up with our muffler that happens to have an engine attached. When he pulled around, I squealed, "Hot Springs or bust!" and he smiled. All the way to the airport.

I love our airport. It's so tiny that Economy parking is a car lot away from the main doors. We get excited over things like that.

But he still wouldn't tell me where were going until the tickets were in my hand. And then they were.

New England! I squealed (again). We had been wanting to go up there for a while now, and this was just perfect timing....with the leaves and all.



Because I was in that particular state of being (happy - not hungry this time) and everything R did made me giggle. He took advantage, too. Like when decided to change his watch forward an hour by comparing the airline map with the view out the window to determine when the exact time changed.

I think I was delirious.



But I especially loved looking out the window and seeing the moon below us. I don't think I'd ever seen that before on a flight. Both Sinatra as well as Hey Diddle Diddle came to mind. And after the chicken bacon foot long sandwich I put down prior to take-off, like I was actually training to jump over the moon, I thought the latter was more appropriate.

By midnight we had arrived, and we still had an hour to the B&B. The owner, E, said to come whenever, that'd he'd wait up for us.



When we arrived, there E was. He opened up the door to our very victorian room and I was greeted with a Birthday sign, a bouquet of handpicked flowers, and sherry!

My nasal pitch got so loud, E had to close the door. As he bid us goodnight, he said he had another surprise tomorrow.

I'm liking this place already.



The next morning we ate a big breakfast, wandered around the grounds, got chased by a pit bull, and then I unpacked my suitcase that R lovingly put together. It weighed no less than 65 lbs and literally had my entire closet it in. Out of the 5 skirts and 7 shirts he brought, I decided on an outfit and searched in the pockets for my razor.

Where. is. my. razor.  (!!!)

He managed to pack up the entire Shack and somehow leave one crucial device behind. And considering I hadn't shaved since 1872, I was in desperate need. I went back down to the living room and tried to find one from that particular year, but they must have just run out.

Seems that even though their legs were covered up by layers and layers of stockings and bloomers and skirts and who knows what else, the Victorian ladies still shaved their legs more often than me.

My first plan of the weekend included a trip to the nearest Walgreens and a shaving in the car. I'm pretty classy.



It was gorgeous out, so R and I took advantage. We went to an open-air museum with a nautical theme. I've discovered I'm not a big boat buff. I mean, don't get me wrong. I really like them while I'm in them, with a floppy hat and a glass of wine. Looking at them and reading about the history of boats, ummm not so much.

So I spent the majority of the time trying to scare R staring at him stone-faced through various windows until he'd catch a glance. Problem is, everyone else looked first before R and I suddenly became known as that weirdo Shining lady.



R spent his time creeping me out by analyzing a doctor's office shelf. Seriously, what was all that used for. Wait, I don't want to know.

For lunch, we headed back to downtown Mystic, Connecticut and decided to go to none other than...



Mystic Pizza! I tried to channel my inner Julia Roberts, but could only squeeze out her 1980s bushy eyebrows.

Oh well, I'll take what I can get. And the pizza was fantastic! I love when something is not so over-hyped that the food takes a beating.

But hold on!R had another outing up his sleeve. We drove to Newport, Rhode Island which has now become my new favorite place to visit.



He had heard of a "cliff walk" that bordered the ocean. It snaked its way in front of the mansions and estates along the shore.



We picked up a couple small bottles of vino and slowly walked along sipping our drinks, holding hands, and wondering what it would be like to (clean) live in those beauties.

Outside one estate, we heard some people rustling in the bushes.



R found an opening in one and went through. I followed closely behind to find...



a couple escapees! It was the butler and the maid making a run for it. Okay, no it wasn't but they really did want to climb over the fence to join everyone on the Cliff Walk. R and I laughed so hard because the husband was not shy about lifting up her leg to hurl her over. So R stepped in to help.

Do you think she made it?

Stay tuned.

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!