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Sunday, March 16, 2008

Origami puzzles

I grumble on return from the supermarket, silently. My son grumbles noisily. He protests at the outrageous art project at school, the one that inevitably involved paper, which sparked off a meltdown of gargantuan proportions. His daily paper report card provides graphic details of the horror that followed. It seems his dislike of paper and it’s texture has resurfaced with a vengeance.

I grumble over a different matter, one of the many problems of living in America, especially if you’re of Scottish descent. It’s the bargains that are the problem. In Europe you might get a penny off something if you saved fifty packet tops and promised to give away your first born child in exchange. But not in America. How can you refuse such offers, even if the fridge is already overflowing? It’s similar to the other shopping problem:- one individual cookie for 99 cents, or 50,000 cookies for $1.99? A nightmare for a penny pincher, slain by the special offer, self control buried in a deluge of cookie crumbs.

“Whatcha doin Mom?”
“Cooking dear. Shall I show you how to make Lettuce soup?”
“No thanks. Do you make this stuff up or do you ever have a recipe?”
“Make it up?”
“Yeah, all this weird food. I’ve never heard of anyone eatin lettuce soup!”
“No? France? Escoffier? Look at the computer, it’s on-line.”
“Oh…….dyou know we have enough fruit and veg to have a yard sale!”
“Hmm. I know what you mean.”
“It’s great that Lucky’s have that offer on again.”
“Hmm.”
“Like we have a free supper now. Free sausages, free lettuces, free bread, free spaghetti.”
“Hmmm.”
“Why are you hmming?”
“Well let’s face it, lettuce isn’t really high on anyone’s yummy list around here is it?”
“You eat lettuce.”
“3 Jumbo Hearts of Romaine! Each one of them is bigger than my head! I’m not a complete rabbit.”
“The sausages are the best!”
“Yes, true.”
“Bread?”
“Yucky sourdough.”
“I like sourdough!”
“Yes but nobody else does. You can’t eat a whole loaf all by yourself.”
“I could try,” she offers with enthusiasm just as her little brother arrives on the scene, “I am like!”
“What do you like dear?”
“Free stuff.”
“Yes everyone likes free stuff.”
“I am like.”
“What are you like…..I mean, what do you like dear?”
“Free stuff.”
“Which free stuff?”
“Free.”
“Which free bit, the spaghetti, the sausages, lettuce or bread?”
“Free tickets.”
“Tickets?”
"?"
“Oh mom, he means the money off coupons.”
“But they’re made of ………..paper!”























Lettuce Soup
Finely chop one medium sized onion. Sweat it in olive oil until transluscent
with dollop of garlic puree.
Add one medium sized finely chopped potatoe, leave for 15-20 minutes to meld.
Add a smidge of dried Herbs de Provence or few sprigs of fresh dill, flat leave parsley and Marjoram
Add a 1 litre of vegetable stock or chicken broth and wait for it to come up to a boil, turn down to a simmer
Add six large handfuls of lettuce one at a time until each one wilts
Whizz in Magimix / Cuisinart
Serve with a dollop of sour cream and garnish with any left over fresh herbs

Tip: if you believe that no-one will eat this, then skip the cream, that way you can tip it straight into the compost bin with confidence.
























Lettuce Soup

Finely chop one medium sized onion. Sweat it in olive oil until translucent
with dollop of garlic puree.
Add one medium sized finely chopped potatoe, leave for 15-20 minutes to meld.
Add a smidge of dried Herbs de Provence or few sprigs of fresh dill, flat leave parsley and Marjoram
Add a 1 litre of vegetable stock or chicken broth and wait for it to come up to a boil, turn down to a simmer
Add six large handfuls of lettuce one at a time until each one wilts
Whizz in Magimix / Cuisinart
Serve with a dollop of sour cream and garnish with any left over fresh herbs

Tip: if you believe that no-one will eat this, then skip the cream, that way you can tip it straight into the compost bin with confidence.

A bicycle made for several

I tidy, clean and fight laundry the day he is due to return home. I’m tempted to hurl everything into the hall closet, but as we are married to each other, he already knows that old trick. I curse my open plan home as doors are such a great disguise for mayhem.


I debate whether a single rose on the nightstand would be an appropriate gesture? Would his eye be drawn to the single bloom and glance over the bomb site, or is it just too sloppy? I talk it over with my daughter, hard at work on a ‘welcome home’ picture.

“I think it sounds very romantic. Is Dad romantic?”
“Er….?”
“What it is?” chimes in a small person.
“What is what dear?”
“Romantic?”

My daughter giggles, “it’s lovey dovey, kissy squishy that kind of stuff.”

Clearly I have been remiss in the birds and bees department.

“He is be like dah flowers like me?”

I reflect upon their father who doesn’t know his Pelargoniums from his Buddleia, “Well, he does like some flowers.”
“We can be choose his favourite.”
“That’s nice dear. What is his favourite do you think?”
“Daisy,” he says with authority.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it is be my favourite and we are be dah same.”
















Princess Daisy, from Mario's Gameboy

Intolerance - a snippet

We conclude that there are 4 potential restaurants that may earn our patronage today. Prior to any final decision making, I call one in particular, just to check.


“Hi, this is San Jose’s most premiere restaurant in the Bay Area serving find food to the discerning public, specializing in pasta and seafood in a family style, how may I be of service to you today?”

It’s hard to process the message, delivered at speed with a gasp for breath at the end.


“Good morning. I was wondering if you served fries please?”

I am careful not to allow the word ‘chips’ escape from my lips as it is unfair to confuse the foreigners. I keep it brief, as American’s dislike waffle and time wasters. I stop myself from havering over the use of ‘premiere.’ The pronunciation is so mangled it cannot be French, but I have started a new personal campaign, I shall not be picky about individual words. I shall be tolerant.


“Fries? D’ya mean French Fries?” she asks in a tone of American incredulity.
“Mais oui!”

My bad!

 
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