Eating out:  épicerie

Everyone else is out of the house this evening—M is at a Girl Scout weekend camp, L at a square dance in Kingsland—so I decided to please myself and go somewhere for dinner that I’d never been.  I drove out Burnet Road to Anderson and MoPac and back without finding anything to tickle me, so on the way back I took a detour down Hancock Drive and ended up at épicerie.  I’d been meaning to try them for some time now, so this seemed a good time.

I was seated right away, and started to put together a dinner off the starters menu.  I’d intended to combine French onion soup and fried green tomatoes, but found they were out of soup.  In the end, I decided on the shaved-beef sandwich on ciabatta with arugula and horseradish, and a side of onion rings.

My sandwich was rather a long time coming.  The restaurant was full, I acknowledge, but the wait seemed unusually long even so, and I was getting a bit diabetic-crashy by the time my food came.

The food itself was good; the meat a non-marinated carpaccio, the arugula dressed with olive oil, and a schmear of horseradish on the bottom bread next the meat, where it belonged.  The whole thing was overall well balanced, though I was startled several times with jolts of artisanal salt (or at least kosher salt), and a feeling on my lips at the end of “whoa, just ate something rather salty, didn’t I?”  The onion rings were also tasty and the batter coating had a nice crunch, but they were clumped together, as though they’d been dumped all at once into slightly too-cool oil and not shaken up to insure individual cooking.

My server was, I thought, rather lackadaisical and inattentive.  At one point I was left with a water glass at low tide and I had to flag him and ask for a refill, which should not have happened.  He also missed an opportunity to upsell the dessert menu, something I did hear another server at a nearby table do to good effect, and at his last appearance he had already removed his uniform apron, signaling to me that he was in a hurry to shoo me out the door so he could leave himself.  Very bad appearances, that.

Bottom line:  go for the food.  It’s good.  But be prepared to prod the staff as needed.

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It’s on again (and HavenCon report)

We have a new “go” date for my neck surgery:  Tuesday, May 5th.  After the surgeon got all in a flap about my blood work, I spent a day running back and forth between him and my family doctor, who examined me, looked at the lab results, and didn’t seem very excited about any of it, which I would expect because he’s a phlegmatic kind of guy.  He ordered a re-do of the blood chemistry and when everything came back within limits, as he expected it would, he wrote a letter to the surgeon telling him to chill out and put me back on the schedule.  So then I got to have a squabble with the scheduler, who tried to put it on for a April 21st, a day L will be out of town on business.  I explained very pointedly that wasn’t going to fly, and she got a bit huffy but went away and eventually came back with the May 5th date.  This also makes the blood bank happy, because they could get me onto their schedule to pull more platelets out of me before I have to take a break and recuperate.  I had this plaintive call from them last week:  “couldn’t you please come in and donate this week because Easter and we’ll need supplies??” And I couldn’t do it Saturday because—I’ll explain why in a minute—but I agreed to go next Saturday.

I didn’t go to the blood bank Saturday because I agreed to take M to HavenCon, a new (first-year) con in Austin.  There are several other cons in Austin during the year, but HavenCon markets itself as LGBTQ-friendly, and since M is currently identifying as bi/questioning, that’s right up there.  They had a good turnout for a first-year event, with minimal fuckups and not too many first-year mistakes.  M cosplayed Killua from Hunter x Hunter and was very pleased to have her cosplay recognized by someone—which was indeed a thing, because Hunter x Hunter is obscure so having anyone recognize her character was an achievement.  We went to two or three sessions including a really good panel on bi visibility and representation (recording of the whole session is here, about 45 minutes and lots of fun), wandered the dealers’ room a while, where I dropped about a hundred dollars on art and things for her.  We left about mid-afternoon because my hips were sore and she was getting blisters.  Still, she was happy with the day and is already talking about wanting to go to Wizard World Austin again at Halloween.  And HavenCon organizers sounded like they were successful enough they’re gonna go again next year, so that can be a thing.

Con-going seems to be turning into a thing that M and I do rather than L doing it; I’m more sympathetic and in-tune with the fandoms she’s into, and I am better at picking up on the finer points of fandom.  This is good, because M has other things she and L do together so I’m happy to have something she and I can share.  I guess one year I’m going to have to stump up for taking her to something like Dragon Con so she can see the big leagues of cosplay.

I also dropped a word of interest with Weird Girls, a YouTube channel and related Web site of which I’ve become a fan, saying I’d like to work with them if they have something I can contribute to.  They’ve had a standing general request out for contributors, and I kinda would like to have a role in helping them succeed.  The person I talked to said there might be a thing or two I could help with, so I wrote them an email expressing interest and now we’ll see whether anything comes of it.

M with the person who recognized her character

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I could chew nails and spit tacks (also, cooking salmon croquettes)

I was supposed to be recovering from surgery tonight, if everything had gone as expected.  It didn’t.  Thirty-six hours before surgery, at 5:15 Wednesday afternoon, I got a call from the surgeon’s office telling me “we’ve cancelled your surgery because we don’t like some of your lab results.  You have to get your family doctor to write us a justification to clear you for surgery before we’ll do anything further.”

Well, just ducky.  Call me at the last minute, and after everyone has gone home for the day so I can’t reach anyone to do anything, and yank back on the reins as hard as you can.  And not just yank me around—yank around my family, and my manager and co-workers … now isn’t that a fine way to do?

So I had to take off Thursday from work, go to the surgeon’s to pick up a copy of the offending lab results, call my family doctor and ask for a work-in to figure out what to do next.  Fortunately, he was able to work me in late in the afternoon.  We sat down and reviewed the results: elevated glucose (the hospital shouldn’t have drawn me right after I had pho for lunch, the imbeciles), PTT clotting time a few seconds longer than normal (draw me soon after the blood bank fills me up with heparin and that’ll happen), neutrophils and eosinophils higher than normal although my total white cell count was normal (no shit, I’m asthmatic and allergic and it’s spring and everything is blooming).  He didn’t seem particularly exercised by any of it, but said we’d do another blood draw for verification and if the results were within limits he’d write a letter to the surgeon politely telling him to take a chill pill and get out his knife, and put me back on the schedule.

This morning his medical assistant called and left a message:  the second draw was within limits, there was nothing to worry about, and he’d write and send the letter on Monday.  Of course, even after that I’ll have to wait for another OR slot to open, which means days more waiting and twiddling thumbs.

So instead of lying around tonight and taking painkillers, I ended up cooking.  M is gone to a lock-in with her school drama club, so I don’t have to work around all the things she won’t eat, and I decided it was a great time to use up a dusty can of salmon I found in the back of the pantry.  I was put off canned salmon when I was young, after eating some that had been badly boned and crunched down on a chunk of vertebra, but I decided that by-god I was going to be courageous and use up this stuff anyway.  So I made croquettes.

Curried Salmon Croquettes

Serving Size : 4     Preparation Time : 0:25
Categories : Fish

  Amount  Measure       Ingredient — Preparation Method
————————  ————————      ——————————————————————————————
 15             ounces  Canned salmon
  1           teaspoon  Curry powder
  1              small  Onion
  1         tablespoon  Chopped parsley
  1              ounce  Drained capers
  2          teaspoons  Lemon juice
  1                     Beaten egg, to bind
  ½                cup  Dry bread crumbs
                        Dry bread crumbs
                        Oil, for deep-frying

                        ————WHITE SAUCE————
  4             ounces  Butter
  ½                cup  Flour
  1                cup  Milk
  1                cup  Unsalted chicken broth
  1           teaspoon Nutmeg
                        Salt and pepper, to taste

Melt butter over low heat; remove from heat, and stir in the flour, working until smooth.  Return to the heat, cook a few minutes, remove from the heat, and gradually stir in the milk.  Return to the heat, and stir until boiling.  Reduce the heat, and simmer further three minutes, and season with nutmeg, salt, and pepper.  Set aside.

Drain the salmon, and remove the bones and flake; peel the onion, and mince it.  Thoroughly mix the salmon, curry powder, onion, parsley, capers, lemon juice, binding egg, and bread crumbs.  Spread the mixture on a shallow tray, and refrigerate until it is firm.  Mold the mixture into croquette shapes 1” x 2”.  Roll them in bread crumbs.  Refrigerate at least one hour.  Fry the croquettes in deep oil at 350° F. until they are golden (3 to 4 minutes); drain on paper towels.  Cover with white sauce and serve.

— – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – —

Per Serving (excluding unknown items): 466 Calories; 28g Fat (53.9% calories from fat); 29g Protein; 24g Carbohydrate; 2g Dietary Fiber; 166mg Cholesterol; 749mg Sodium.  Exchanges: 1 Grain (Starch); 2½ Lean Meat; ½ Vegetable; 0 Fruit; 0 Non-Fat Milk; 4 Fat.

 

The croquettes were quite mild and not fishy at all; probably the curry powder had something to do with that.  Even with refrigerating the mix beforehand, it was hard to get the croquettes to hold together, but I’m afraid that adding more bread crumbs for more binding would make it too blah.  I was able to manage them by using the pierced ladle to lower them into the hot oil, and once they were fried they held together nicely.

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Cooking things:  Leftover chicken curry

Today I actually had an idea for dinner before the minute when M comes in and says “so what’s for dinner tonight? Foraging in the Fridge?” as she has to do most nights, and I have to figure out something on the fly.  I remembered that I had some half-pound bags of shredded leftover chicken in the fridge and a couple of cans of cheddar cheese soup, and thought “I wonder what would happen if I stirred them together and put some curry powder in?”

I found the chicken, and a little bit of standing in the middle of the kitchen and staring aimlessly produced an apple, some raisins, and half an onion.  That seemed like enough to start with.  (The cheese soup got lost somehow during creation and became part of a jar of Bulgarian yogurt.)

Quick Leftover Chicken Curry

Recipe By     : Sam Waring
Serving Size  : 4     Preparation Time 0:30
Categories : Chicken

  Amount  Measure       Ingredient — Preparation Method
————————  ————————      ——————————————————————————————
   ½                    Onion, minced
  1                     Apple, chopped
  1                     Garlic clove, minced
  1                cup  Raisins or sultanas
  2        tablespoons  Butter
  1         tablespoon  Cornstarch
                        Chicken broth, fresh or canned
  1              pound  Cooked chicken, shredded or chopped
   ¼          teaspoon  Tabasco sauce
  2          teaspoons  Curry powder
  1½              cups  Plain yogurt
                        Hot cooked rice

Mince the onion; chop the apple roughly and mince the garlic.  In a custard cup, mix together the cornstarch and ¼ cup of chicken broth.

Melt the butter in a big saucepan or a Dutch oven over a medium-low flame.  Add the minced onion and sauté for a few minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onion begins to turn golden.  Add the raisins and allow them to cook for a few minutes, then add the chopped apple and cook a few minutes longer, continuing to stir at intervals.

Add the shredded chicken to the pot to warm.  Slosh in a cup of chicken broth, or thereabout.  Add the Tabasco and curry powder (or you can be a purist and use garam masala).  After two or three minutes, stir in the yogurt and leave until it begins to bubble and become a sauce.

Give the cornstarch-chicken broth mixture a stir to re-combine and add to the pot, stirring it in.  Allow everything to simmer together about ten minutes.  Serve hot over cooked rice.

— – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – —

Per Serving: 450 Calories; 14g Fat (28.2% calories from fat); 40g Protein; 42g Carbohydrate; 3g Dietary Fiber; 124mg Cholesterol; 196mg Sodium. Exchanges: 0 Grain(Starch); 5 Lean Meat; ½ Vegetable; 2 Fruit; ½ Non-Fat Milk; 1½ Fat; ½ Other Carbohydrates.

I used a mix of light and dark meat in the recipe.  Every so often I go wild and poach four or five pounds of chicken pieces, cool it, shred it, and bag it in half-pound bags that I throw into the freezer.  It means I never have to think “oh god, first I have to cook some chicken …” not to mention that it’s also a great way to use up leftovers.

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I have a date

… with a table and a knife and a surgeon.  (Group dates can be entertaining.)  Yesterday L and I met the neurosurgeon my neurologist referred me to, after we agreed that I wasn’t going to fix the pain with another round of PT.

The surgeon didn’t even attempt to argue against a surgical intervention; his only debate, he explained, was deciding whether to tackle just C5/6 or to go after C6/7 while he was in there.  He said outright that on a different day a week earlier, or two weeks later, he might have felt differently about it, but on that day he felt like being conservative, and only fusing C5/6—subject, of course, to getting in there and finding something he couldn’t see on the MRI.

He also pointed out a smaller herniation at C3/4, similar in scope to C6/7, and said he would have been thinking about intervening on it before he fooled with C6/7—but in the event, he intended to leave them both alone.  He said that I would probably be back one day to deal with C6/7 and maybe C3/4, because they would continue to degenerate and the degeneration might be accelerated by fixing C5/6, but that was no excuse for leaving C5/6 alone.  It obviously needed fixing, and the MRI films made that quite clear.

He wants to use an anterior approach in surgery, going in through the front of my neck, saying it would cause me less pain than a posterior approach would.  A posterior approach would involve cutting a lot of muscle, and that would hurt more and take longer to heal.  I’m not really hepped on the idea of him cutting near my carotid artery and thyroid, but if it’s less painful, then I’ll acquiesce.

The surgery will be done as day surgery—get me in at 7:30, do me at mid-morning, send me home that night barring complications.  Since he’s affiliated with Seton Hospital, he wants to do it there, although we’ve always gone to St. David’s for our hospitalizations.  Still, I don’t have an aversion to Seton; my first three nose jobs were done there in the ’70s, and their standard of care is good.

I don’t know how long I will be out before I’m allowed to return to work.  I need to find that out.  I do know that I’m not going to be able to do a lot for myself for the first week or two, so I expect I’ll have to grit my teeth and make myself ask for help sometimes for things I can’t do.  As I’ve explained before, I have trouble asking for help, but even I can see L and M will have things they can’t easily manage.

Surgery date is Friday, March 27th.  I’ll go in the afternoon of Monday the 23rd for pre-surgical orientation, whatever that may involve, then show up Friday morning and have it done.  I’m going to drop all this on the blood bank when I go to see them Saturday for my regular platelet draw; they’re going to be unhappy to lose me for a year (surgery, possibly receiving blood, and possible bone grafting are all 12-month deferrals).  I’m also thinking that while I’m deferred anyway from the surgery, I might go on and get my ears re-pierced, which I’ve been wanting to do for a while but keep putting off because of the risk of deferral—but if I have to be out anyway, then what the hell.

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Neck updates

We’ve made some (arguable) progress in dealing with my neck problems, along with some setbacks.  The first setback was that about four days after I started the painkiller and muscle relaxant, I broke out in hives all over.  That was no fun at all, and I’m not completely over them till yet.  I immediately stopped the Flexeril (cyclobenzaprene, muscle relaxant) and Ultram (tramadol, opioid), since they were the two drugs I’ve never taken before and hence the first suspects for causing the hives.  When I didn’t get better in a few days, I also stopped the Voltaren (diclofenac, anti-inflammatory).  By today, two weeks down, most of the hives have gone away but I still have occasional bouts of itching, plus lots of small sores and scabs from clawing at myself, scratching.

I had my MRI done, although it was a struggle.  I was set up to go in at 9:00 PM, the last patient of the night at the radiology center.  (I was astonished to find they worked that late.)  I went in without being on medication, so whatever pictures they got would be what I was actually experiencing.  Now I think that was a mistake.

The block the techs wanted me to rest my neck on pressed directly on the ruptured disc, and trying to lie still was, frankly, agonizing.  I just couldn’t do it.  After a bunch of unusable pictures, one tech said “Why don’t we prop up your head on a pillow and give your neck a rest, and take the pictures of your lumbar spine.”  And we did that, and the pain relief was ineffable.  Once we were done with that, he had another go at the neck pictures but this time put a small pad under the back of my skull, which lifted my neck just enough to take pressure off the bad place, and I was able to lie still and he got his pictures.

The following week I went back to the neurologist, and we looked at the MRI images.  They were pretty ugly.  They showed the C5/6 disc clearly invading the spinal cord space and impinging on the C6 neural foramen, with the C6/7 disc also herniated but not invading as badly.  She also pointed out places where it appeared the vertebral bone was over-growing, making the disc displacement worse.  All that fits exactly with the kind of pain and nerve problems I’m having; it’s just confirmation of the diagnosis, and confirmation that we have to do something.

Next we tossed around various pain-relief modalities that might not give me hives again.  She didn’t think the Voltaren was involved, and extended that script, and prescribed Soma (carisoprodol) in place of the Flexeril for muscle relaxation.  Soma has worked really well for me, which is a damned good thing, given the conversation on painkillers.

The first painkiller she suggested was Butrans (buprenorphine), a transdermal patch system that lasts a week at a time.  I wasn’t really charmed by that, because Butrans has a warning about caution using it in people with compromised respiratory systems.  (I learned later that ANY opioid at all has cautions about using it in people with compromised respiration.)  Then we talked about other opioid possibilities, and eventually she wrote me a prescription for Nucynta (tapentadol), a relatively new drug on Schedule II of the Controlled Substances Act.  (Butrans, which we talked about earlier, is on Schedule III and Ultram, which I tried at first, is on Schedule IV.)

I think I ought to explain how controlled substances work, since it becomes important to the discussion.  The Controlled Substances Act has five lists, or schedules, of drugs.  Schedule I contains the drugs with “high potential for abuse and no recognized medical use.”  That contains heroin, cocaine, methamphetamine, various designer drugs, and marijuana (without a lot of justification for its presence).  Schedule II contains drugs with a medical use, but still with high potential for abuse and addiction.  That’s where morphine and all its relatives live.  Schedules III through V contain drugs with decreasing potential for abuse.

Schedule II drugs are a lot of trouble to deal with.  A doctor isn’t allowed to phone or fax a Schedule II prescription; he has to write a paper prescription every single month, the patient has to go get the paper prescription every single month, and physically carry it to the pharmacy, then present photo ID to receive the actual drug, even if he stood there and waited for the script to be filled, and that’s completely aside from the “high potential for abuse and addiction” part of it.  Schedule II is scary.  And that’s what the doctor and I were talking about.

As I said, Nucynta is Schedule II.  It’s one of the big boys.  It’s also still under patent, which means there is no generic equivalent for it, and my insurance company reflexively fights paying for any brand-name drug.  So I was annoyed but not surprised to find they refused to pay for the Nucynta prescription ($300 a month) unless the doctor called and fought them about it.  To know what I’m up against, I called the insurance and asked what they considered an equivalent drug they would pay for.  They told me their formulary included hydromorphone (Dilaudid), oxymorphone (Opana), and … wait for it … morphine sulphate.  That’s right.  Morphine.  I asked about Butrans (remember, that one is on the less restrictive Schedule III).  No, they wouldn’t cover that either.  Well, what was their formulary equivalent for that?  Oh, the equivalent for that one is fentanyl (Duragesic), also a schedule II drug.  Fentanyl is roughly 80 times stronger than morphine.  And this is their “equivalent” for a Schedule III?  No thank you, ma’am.

So at this point I’m not taking any painkillers.  I’m not taking any anti-inflammatories either, since I haven’t absolved Voltaren of guilt, regardless of what the neurologist thinks.  I’m managing thing with Soma alone, and fortunately that’s working pretty well.  I’m not having the horrible spasms and pain, although I’m still getting lots of pins and needles all down my arm, and I’ve lost some feeling in the balls of my left forefinger and thumb.  I have an appointment to meet a neurosurgeon on the 25th, to which L is coming as well.  I’m still of a mind that this is going to have to end in surgery; I don’t have faith in much less.

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Shit just got real

Back in 1985 or 1986, I blew out a cervical disc and although I can’t remember the date, I remember the day clearly.  I was a secretary then, working in the City of Austin Purchasing Office. My usual style for working was to sit with my computer keyboard in my lap, head cocked and shoulder hunched to hold the phone receiver as I took dictation, typing straight onto the computer.  (headsets?  The City don’t need no steenkin’ headsets!)

I was doing just that, on the phone with someone, when I both heard and felt a “pop” inside my head, and I got dizzy for a moment.  I finished my call and told my office-mate what had happened, and she was alarmed enough to get the head of the department, whose office was across the hall from us, and HE was alarmed enough to call EMS, who came and looked me over.  I wasn’t sure what had happened, but I knew that nothing hurt and the dizziness had gone away, so I declined their offer to take me to Brackenridge Hospital.

A few years after that, I began to have back pain, usually at the trigger point below my left shoulder blade.  It bothered me enough that about 1994 I went to my doctor, who sent me to a neurologist, who examined me and ordered an MRI, and discovered that I had a left-posterior herniation of my C5/6 disc.  On the film, I could see that the disc was bulging inward on the back left corner, invading the spinal fluid and the exit where the sixth cervical spinal nerve ran down into my left arm.  The disc bulge pressing on the nerve was what caused my pain.  However, the neurologist didn’t think the herniation was anywhere near bad enough to make the risks associated with spinal surgery worth it. He prescribed physical therapy, which I did for a while and then stopped when my medical benefits ran out.  I still had pain sometimes, but it wasn’t so bad.

In 2010, the bad disc flared up again and I went to a new neurologist, since the old one had either retired or disappeared.  She examined me, ordered an MRI, and when those films came back she told me that it did appear the herniation was getting worse but the risk of surgery still wasn’t worth it.  She prescribed more PT, which I did until my benefits ran out again.

In mid-November, I changed jobs at the Empire and moved into a group called the Global Command Center, where I monitor dispatches for computer server service calls to make sure they happen regardless.  Agents in the GCC don’t sit in normal cubes.  We sit at desks, with a rack holding three monitors in front of us (yeah, to do my job I need three computer screens at once).  This is an arrangement of screens I’ve never had to deal with before at the Empire; everywhere else, I always looked DOWN into a screen, not up.  And that’s the problem.  Sitting with my head back and tilted up so I could look at the screens on their rack, I started putting a lot of pressure on the bad disc, and the disc put a lot of pressure on the nerve.

And the nerve hurt.  It hurt a LOT.  It hurt all day, every day.  I got continual stabbing pains under my left shoulder, shooting pain running all down my left arm with three or four foci, I started getting pain in my left thigh, and my left thumb and forefinger began having several episodes a day of pins-and-needles and numbness.  I’d get involuntary tremors and jerks in my left hand and arm to where I couldn’t type with that hand, and I would sometimes drop things I thought I had hold of.  You know how doctors always ask you to rate your pain on a scale of one to ten, to give them an idea?  Well, I’d usually start the workday at about a two.  If I had a good day, by quitting time I’d be at a six.  On a bad day (and there have been a lot of bad days), I’d be at an eight and trying not to cry because of how much it hurt.

This got me scared.  I’m left handed, and very left-side dominant.  I couldn’t deal with the idea of effectively losing my writing arm, my working arm, my everything-in-the-world-I-do arm.  I couldn’t really concentrate on my job training, because with that much pain it’s very hard to think about anything except how much you hurt.  So I made an appointment to go back to the neurologist I’d seen in 2010.

I saw her on Thursday.  She examined me, and when she got done her professional opinion was “oh my god, the muscle spasms!”  The official diagnosis, the one she wrote for the insurance company, was “degeneration of cervical intervertebral disc, spinal stenosis in cervical region, neuralgia and radiculitis, and possible lumbosacral disc degeneration.”  The last one is because she isn’t convinced that my thigh pain is being caused by the cervical problems, and wants to look further into it.  I walked out with prescriptions for Flexeril (muscle relaxant), Ultram ER (low-powered opiate painkiller meant for long-term use), Voltaren (high-powered non-steroidal anti-inflammatory), and Medrol (steroid), hoping to knock down some of the pain and inflammation.  I also got a referral to an acupuncturist, again to work on the pain, orders for MRIs, and a summary of “once we have the films, I’ll refer you to a neurosurgeon.” Which was not unexpected; I’ve gotten bad enough that a vertebral fusion is the only path forward I can see.  The neurologist said outright “we’re not going to waste time trying PT; you’re in too much pain for that.”  (Ain’t THAT the truth!)

Today, the first day on all the new drugs, was a good day. I had a lot less pain, although I’m still getting pins-and-needles and numbness in my arm and fingers when I lie on my left side.  If the drugs can keep the pain at bay while I’m going through the rest of diagnosis, and let me function until surgery can happen, I just might work through this.

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Cooking things: Chicken and Sausage Jambalaya

The other day I was on a tear at Central Market, buying things to make things at some future point without knowing just what the “future point” was.  I even got so excited that I bought a couple of pounds of andouille, a Cajun sausage, along with bell peppers and herbs and onions and greens and things you throw into pots.

Normally I’m not a huge fan of Central Market’s sausages.  Their butchers are busy being health-conscious, and because of that they never put enough fat into the mix to lubricate the meat properly and carry the flavor, and their sausages tend to dry out in the pan and lose flavor.  Once I calmed down again from my grocery-store high I remembered this, and had to start thinking about what I was going to do in order not to end up with a bunch of sawdust in sausage casings.  Fortunately, MasterCook came to the rescue.  I told it I wanted recipes containing andouille, and it coughed up a dozen or so that I had collected.

In my cooking-echo days, one of our active members was a guy from Calgary named Fred Towner, retired from the oil industry, who had picked up a taste for Louisiana cooking in his working days.  Fred could be relied on as a regular source of south-of-Baton-Rouge recipes, and one of his Cajun stews was what I ended up doing.  You can always throw sausage into a stew if you’re worried about dryness, and since andouille is a Cajun-country thing, it was only appropriate.

Sausage and Chicken Jambalaya

Serving Size : 12    Preparation Time : 2:00
Yield : 4 quarts
Cuisine : Cajun
Categories : Chicken, Pork, Stews

  Amount  Measure       Ingredient — Preparation Method
--------  ------------  --------------------------------
  ¼                cup  Oil
  2             pounds  Chicken, skinned and boned
  1½            pounds  Andouille sausage, cut in ¼” rounds
  4               cups  Chopped onions
  2               cups  Chopped celery
  2               cups  Chopped green bell pepper
  1         tablespoon  Minced garlic
  5               cups  Reduced-sodium chicken broth
  2½         teaspoons  Salt
                        Cayenne pepper, to taste
  4               cups  Long-grain rice
  1              bunch  Chopped cilantro, for garnish
  2               cups  Chopped scallions, for garnish

Season and brown the chicken in oil (lard or bacon drippings are traditional) over medium-high heat.  Add the sausage slices to the pot and sauté with the chicken.  Remove both from the pot once browned.

For brown jambalaya, make a deep chestnut colored roux, or use Kitchen Bouquet.  (Sam says:  make the damn roux.  It’s not hard, you just have to be really patient with it.)  For red jambalaya, delete this.  Sauté the onions, celery, green pepper and garlic to the tenderness that you desire.

Return the chicken and sausage to the pot.  Add liquid and salt, pepper, and other desired seasonings and bring to a boil.  If using Kitchen Bouquet for brown jambalaya, add one or two tablespoons.  For red jambalaya, add about a quarter cup of paprika, and you may want to use half stock and half tomato juice or V-8 for your liquid rather than chicken broth.

Add rice and return to the boil.  Cover and reduce the heat to simmer.  Cook for a total of 30 minutes.  After ten minutes of cooking, remove the cover and quickly turn rice from top to bottom completely.  Serve garnished with chopped cilantro and scallions.

Source : New Orleans School of Cooking, New Orleans, LA
Original poster : Fred Towner

— – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – — – —

Per Serving : 551 Calories; 23g Fat (37.8% calories from fat); 25g Protein; 59g Carbohydrate; 3g Dietary Fiber; 50mg Cholesterol; 1041mg Sodium. Exchanges: 3 Grain(Starch); 1½ Lean Meat; 1½ Vegetable; 2 Fat.

NOTES : 1 cup raw long grain rice will feed 3 people.  4 keys: 1 cup rice to a total of 2 cups of trinity in any combination (trinity = onions, celery and green pepper) 1 cup raw rice to 1¼ cups liquid.  Over-season to compensate for the rice.  Cook for a total of 30 minutes, turning completely after 10 minutes.

 

Yeah.  This one is worth keeping.  L’s opinion was “you’re welcome to make this again any time,” and again, I managed to convince M to try it and find out that food can come in a bowl with liquids and still be OK.

The next challenge is gonna be using up cabbage.  I bought a cabbage, then another came in our CSA box last week.  One of them can go into a stewpot with the kale and carrots that also came in the CSA box, but that other one is de trop.

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Cooking things:  Tortilla Soup

I’ve been wanting soup again, and tonight seemed like as good a time as any to indulge myself since it’s chilly and a little dank.  I found part of a bag of chicken breasts in the freezer that had been there a little too long and were starting to frost up, and needed to be used, and Thursday my Twitter feed had a really great-looking recipe from a former director of the Central Market Cooking School.  With that, I got to work.

The original recipe called for commercial chili powder rather than whole chiles, but I had some whole chiles and felt like playing with them, so I did that instead.  It added a very nice overtone to the spice.  I poached and sliced the chicken breasts separately before starting, which added maybe twenty minutes to the total time.  Big whoop.  The hominy was a great touch to thicken the soup without resorting to masa or (for the traditionalist) crumbled tamales.

Chicken Tortilla Soup

Recipe Originally By     : Sahar Arafat-Ray
Serving Size : 6     Preparation Time :2:00
Yield :  3 quarts
Cuisine       : Tex-Mex
Categories    : Chicken, Soups

  Amount  Measure       Ingredient — Preparation Method
--------  ------------  --------------------------------
  2                     Chiles anchos
  1                     Chile guajillo
  2        tablespoons  Oil
  1              small  Onion, minced
  4                     Garlic cloves, minced
  4             ounces  Canned diced green chiles, OR
  7             ounces  Salsa verde
  1           teaspoon  Mexican oregano
  1           teaspoon  Ground cumin
  1           teaspoon  Salt, or to taste
  1           teaspoon  Black pepper, or to taste
  2               cans  Hominy, drained
  15            ounces  Diced tomatoes
  4               cups  Reduced-sodium chicken broth
  4               cups  Cooked chicken, sliced thinly
                        Lime juice, to taste
  ½                cup  Chopped cilantro
  10                    Corn tortillas, cut into ¼” slices
                        Oil, for frying
                        ———GARNISHES———
                        Shredded cabbage
                        Chopped scallions
                        Lime wedges
                        Sour cream or plain yogurt

Soak the dried chiles in hot water for 30 minutes; reserve the soaking water.  When the chiles are rehydrated, slice them open and de-seed them.  Place the chiles in the container of a blender, along with a little of the soaking water, and process on purée until they are liquefied.

In a large saucepan, heat the oil over medium-high heat.  Sauté the onion and garlic until the onion is soft, about three to five minutes.  (Going a little longer until the onions start to caramelize is not amiss.)  Add the chiles verdes or salsa verde and sauté for another two to three minutes.

Add the chile purée, oregano, cumin, salt, and pepper.  Sauté for one or two minutes or until the fragrance comes up.  Add the hominy and tomatoes and sauté another two or three minutes.

Add the chicken broth.  Cover the saucepan and bring the broth to a boil.  Uncover, lower the heat to medium, and simmer for 30 minutes.  Taste for seasoning.

While the soup is cooking, make the tortilla strips.  Take the tortillas and cut them into roughly ¼-inch wide strips.  Be sure to separate them.  Heat a medium skillet with about half an inch of oil over medium-high heat to 350° F.  (A deep skillet or Dutch oven and a deep-fry thermometer is best here.)  Test the oil by dropping a strip in the oil; it should immediately sizzle.  Fry the strips in small batches until they are crisp, and drain on paper towels.  (Alternately, you can simply serve the whole tortillas or tortilla chips on the side, but I don’t recommend it; you want the crunch that the tostaditas fritas give.)

After the initial cooking time, add the chicken, lime juice, and cilantro.  Cook for a further five minutes.  Taste for seasoning.

Serve the soup garnished with the tortilla strips, cabbage, green onion, extra lime wedges, and sour cream.

Source:  TartQueen’s Kitchen, modified by me

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Per Serving: 399 Calories; 11g Fat (24.9% calories from fat); 35g Protein; 39g Carbohydrate; 6g Dietary Fiber; 79mg Cholesterol; 1146mg Sodium. Exchanges: 2 Grain(Starch); 4 Lean Meat; 1½ Vegetable; 1 Fat.

 

L’s reaction was “I love this,” which is strong praise from her.  Usually she just says she liked whatever-it-was, or that it was good.  I don’t get “I love this” too often.  On the basis of that, I told M that she needed to try it tomorrow, despite her conviction that soups are “unnatural” food (I shoulda fed her more soup when she was little).

Çeci n’est pas un fnord.

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Maryland Enchiladas Banderas—is that even a thing??  (Yes.  It is.)

Today someone tweeted a quotation from Lyle Lovett where he said he has a rule never to eat Mexican food while east of the Mississippi.  Normally I agree with him, but every once in a while the Universe catches me up on my pronunciamientos.

It did so one day about 1991, when L, T, and I had all gone to visit L’s family in Maryland.  We combined this trip with meeting up with a friend of ours from the Fidonet cooking and crafting echoes, and a trip to G Street Fabrics in Rockville, because crafters and sewers and G Street Fabrics.  Helen and L were all over the place for several hours, looking and comparing and exchanging ideas, and I tagged behind, occasionally offering my opinion of a fabric when asked, or even when not asked.  (No, I did not play the stereotypical “cranky husband dragged along to the fabric store.”  I can do better than that, and usually I can offer an opinion on something, with actual reasons for my reaction.)

But after several hours my feet were killing me, even with a cane (my fasciitis was near its worst at the time), and I struck on any more fabric shopping on account it was well past lunch time.  L gave in on the ground I’d been patient and indulgent, and asked Helen about nearby places to eat.  Helen said the closest place was probably an El Torito, which she pronounced “pretty good.”  L gave me a “don’t you DARE play Tex-Mex snob right now, she means well” look, and I shut up and agreed to it.  L didn’t, however, say anything about me not playing provincial Texan with the restaurant staff, and I took advantage.  We sat down, I got a (machine-made, using a mix, which I expected) margarita, and began to read the menu.

At that time, one of my favorite Tex-Mex places in Austin was Manuel’s, which served a thing called enchiladas banderas:  chicken enchiladas striped with red, sour cream, and green sauces, to look like the Mexican flag.  This El Torito had both sour cream and green enchiladas on the menu, and I figured that meant I could have fun yanking chains even if I didn’t get what I ordered and had to do something else.  The waitress came to take our orders, and I cranked up my best Bad Tejano and told her “quiero enchiladas banderas.”  She thought I’d misused a word, and asked if I meant enchiladas rancheras, which were on the menu.  I replied, “no, enchiladas banderas—enchiladas de pollo con salsa ranchera, y salsa crema, y salsa verde, como así la bandera mexicana,” waving my hands to indicate how the sauces were striped on the plate.  The waitress never blinked, just nodded, wrote something on her pad, and went away.

A little later our food came out, and to my astonishment I was served exactly what I said I wanted—enchiladas banderas, looking pretty much the same as they did at Manuel’s!  I took a bite, and they weren’t half bad for enchiladas more than a thousand miles from Congress Avenue.  L and Helen rolled about at me being one-upped by the waitress, and I shut up and ate my enchiladas—all of them.

When the check came, I picked it up to see what this minor marvel had cost me (no more than any other enchiladas on the menu would have cost), and read what she’d written:  “sour cream enchiladas SEE ME”.  All I could do at that point was to admit I’d been out-played.  I paid the bill, and left a quite generous tip for the waitress for having outdone me at being provincial.  I asked the hostess as we left, and found out our waitress was costarricense, which explained exactly how she knew what I was up to and what to do about me.

Ever since I’ve played it straight, refusing to tempt the Universe by repeating my stunt (although these days, there are lots of good Central American places in Washington and the suburbs—a few years ago I had a really good order of lengua estofada at a Salvadoran joint in Alexandria).  But you never know, and I won’t promise not to do it again, and parTICularly if I find myself somewhere like one place L got stuck at years ago in Baltimore because of a wedding shower, a restaurant that advertised on the radio about their “fresh-made tore-TILL-as” and “chile re-LEE-nos.”

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