Old people can spice up your life

I thought about the title of this post.  Does it sound mean to use the words "old people"? I didn't mean it to.  Maybe I'll coin a more apropos title before I'm done.

Today I've had a few moments to contemplate age.  It's my dad's birthday.  He is 79.  I posted a picture of him onto my FB page where he is 35.  He looks like a different man.  In the shot I'm a little toddler sitting on his lap.  He's not the dad I remember here.  The dad I know, perpetual dad as I think of him, is 50 years old.  It's the age he was when I was in high school.  No matter how old he gets, when I call him on the phone, the person on the other end looks like perpetual dad.  When I step off a plane and real-time dad is waiting at the gate, I'm shocked at the person greeting me.  He's so different than that picture I have stored in my mind. Of course, it's not scary or mind-blowingly strange, just something my brain has done.  It's imprinted and will always need some tweeking.

Last week I got to spend some time with a gal I met at work and have continued a friendship with, who is, well, sort of old.  She's 80.  I love visiting her because she's always so charmed to see me.  She opens up her home, she offers me copious amounts of tea, she asks if I want to play cards or work on puzzles.  She gives me her full attention when I'm there.  That's something you don't get very often by ANYBODY these day.  I've stopped bringing my phone in when I visit her because it is such a huge distraction and I'm irritated by it.  I always leave her house feeling like I'm the one who got the better end of the bargain.

If you spend any time with an "old" person you will immediately understand why you should make this a part of your life.  They are kind.  (Yes, they can be cranky. How would you feel if your body stopped doing all the things you thought it should do?)  But man, they can tell a great tale.  They know things that you don't.  They've experienced life in a way that you haven't.  The men usually have an amazing fashion sense.  Ask an older gent about a pocket square, you'll get an earful.  Ask the same guy about shining shoes -- that's another tail that could lead to good places.
Or his first job or the good God ---- THE WAR!  These are amazing stories that are dying to be told.

Let's face it.  We are all getting old. Someday I will be the person waiting for my bell to ring.  I hope someone comes to hear MY stories.  I'm terrified no one will.  Yep, it can sometimes be difficult.  You may have to repeat yourself.  You may have to fine tune those ears to really REALLY listen to what the person is saying. Try it.  Not because you're some saintly person earning accolades or brownie points, but because its something amazing that's just waiting for you.

     

Small town, big fun!

Just a brief follow up on the girls weekend in Indy.
First off, it almost DIDN'T happen!  A bully of a storm rolled into New England just as my Delta Flight was scheduled to leave.  I ended up getting out of Boston a day early on American & flew to Chicago instead of Indy. I'm lucky to have a friend who picked me up on a moment's (ok she had four hours) notice at O'hare, and we started our weekend a day in advance.

Because of the reroute through Chicago, I got to spend a little time in the town I grew up in - Crown Point, INDIANA.   Here's me at the beautiful Court House on our town square.  Kris (my driver) and I went to the McDonald's where we used to ride our bikes on Saturday mornings to get french fries with our babysitting loot.  The large fries in the red cardboard container seemed so much bigger then!   But I digress.  The McDonald's has a lot of history for Kris and I, there were the giant fries of course, but also an unfortunate bicycle crash that took place in the parking lot when I was 11.  We laugh about this now, but my three speed suffered major damage. (and my ego)  There was an additional incident when I wrote a boys name on the bathroom wall and was later confronted by the boy's MOTHER!  It went something like "I don't like seeing my son's name on a bathroom wall."  Agreed.  I was a complete dork.

Back to girls weekend.  How much fun is it possible to have?  We had it.  It's amazing to have these women in my life who I've known since GRADE SCHOOL.  We always just fall right back to where we left off and it is totally amazing.

Here is a shot of us at the Ratskeller pub in Indy.  We pretended we were 25 again, even though we're that plus 20!  We chatted up the band!  And took photos with them.  There was a lot of alcohol and dancing.  And late night back at the hotel, I think I ate an entire pizza! 

My luggage packing skills are still suspect.  My girlfriend Mary kept trying to keep me organized, as every belonging inside the bag spilled out all over Michelle's floor.   I'm a hopeless traveler. I never think much of my "skills" in this area until I'm with people who are actually organized, and then I know I'm a complete mess.  Luckily, these ladies don't judge.  I did lose a few socks, that reminds me to call Michelle and see if she found them.

I can't report too much on all the happenings of the weekend, that would be like kissing and telling.  But suffice it to say, I was very happy.  Have you danced lately?  Have you danced lately to songs you have NO IDEA what the lyrics are and you just keep saying TRUCK DRIVER, TRUCK DRIVER.  That's what I do. It's totally acceptable.

So my last word on the weekend is this... if you have friends that have been in your life for most of it, make every effort to keep them in it.  

You'll be the better for it!

I was born in a small town....

I am going to Indiana this weekend.  I say HOME even though where I'm staying isn't really anywhere near the part of the state where I grew up. But heading to Indiana always feels like going home. I love Indiana.  I love the way the people are friendly. I love the way they seem to really listen to you.  I love the way they wave when you're out for a walk.  I love how they wear tennis shoes and drink POP. But most of all, I love these amazing women I'm going to see who all live there.

There are eight of us hooking up in Indy this weekend.  We all grew up Hoosiers -six of them are Hoosiers still, one lives north of Chicago, and of course I live in Massachusetts.  We've all been friends since junior high or earlier.  Whenever I think of these ladies (really we aren't very ladylike) I think of that quote at the end of Stand By Me.

 "I never had any friends later on in life like the ones I had when I was twelve, Jesus, does anyone?"

  
We don't have any firm plans.  There will be booze, I'm sure (I hope)  There will be lots of riotous laughter.  The kind where you might accidentally pee a little (at our age it happens!) I have a bag packed and there are six skirts in it.  I am only there for two nights!  But just thinking about all of us in a room trying on each others outfits and jewelry and junky makeup - like we did before 8th grade dances -- made the skirts seem like a good idea.

I wish we all lived closer sometimes. Technology has played a big role in making weekends like this upcoming one happen - with Facebook, texts and skype.  So THANK YOU technology -but mostly it's an effort on each of our part to either be in or be out.  

And if by chance you fall out for a few years, the circle is never so tight you can't get back in.  
There are plenty of loopholes built into our friendships for that.  

Mine eyes have seen the glory...

I can't see anymore.

For real. I am slowly losing my eyesight.  In the old age kind of way.  It's depressing.

More than wrinkles or droopy eyelids -this gets me.   The gig is up.  My indestructible boast-worthy perfect 20-20 eyesight is both a scam and a sham. It's over now. (cue bad singing w poor lighting)

My mom used to have me thread her sewing needles (she rarely sewed so it was infrequent, but I remember thinking, that's weird, why can't she see do this?  She could do everythng else. She permed my hair!)  I feel her pain.

I can't see the shades of my lipsticks anymore.  (see my lipstick post, that's rough, and possibly dangerous.)

God forbid, I need to read the MEID number from behind the battery of a cell phone.  In that case, I need to take a photograph then zoom in A LOT! I also have a hard time with some text messages

And tonight I couldn't read the dosage on some over the counter stomach stuff I purchased.  Why is the font SO DANG small.

I need readers. Tomorrow I'm going to purchase some. It's not a big thing.  I know its not, but putting down the mantle of youth feels like it will be.

My adventures with macarons

Have you noticed this little French cookie is everywhere now?  I have.  This is the display at the Paper Source in Dedham, MA.  Macaron madness.  I was ecstatic to see this when I entered the store because I was there looking for a gift boxes for mailing my homemade macarons.  Clearly there would be a bounty of options!  I even stopped the friendly sales lady and made her look at the pictures of my very own macarons. (conveniently 6 were on my iphone) and she spent a full two seconds looking at them. I was tempted to tell her that it took me eight hours to make them and that she should really give them more than a passing glance, but she was sweet and the store was busy, and it really was my fault that I had macaron on the brain.

Last month when Reid & I were in NYC, I spied some of these beauties at FP Patisserie in the Plaza Hotel.  They were a little spendy for a cookie, ($2.50 a cookie) but one of the options was the little green pistachio one and I LOVE PISTACHIOS so I bought a half dozen.

First off, some macaron 101.  A macaron isn't the the weird coconut cookie that you find at the supermarket.  You know the one. It looks like this.  That one is pronounced mac - a - roooooon.  I don't know how that cookie got to where it is, but I'm actually angry at that cookie for confusing so many people.  When I told my girlfriend I was making macarons she said, "I don't like coconut!"  Uggghhh! These aren't coconut!  The one I am talking about is this pretty and delicate little sandwich cookie made with almond flour and egg whites.  You can find them in bakery cases and they are usually in a rainbow of colors.  This French cookie should be pronounced mac- a- ron.  (although if you say that and you are NOT French you may just sound ridiculous, but do it -- lest everyone is confused) The fillings for a macaron will vary of course, but the pistachio ones are my favorite.  I ate those six cookies from FP Patisserie before I got back home to Canton but needless, to say, they were on my mind for weeks.

I googled like crazy for recipes.  There are a lot of macaron recipes out there.  The common denominator in all the recipes is that these cookies can drive you to drink. (As if I need a driver) They are finicky.  You need to weigh your ingredients.  The egg whites have to be prepared just so.  You need stiff peaks.    Also, your oven needs to be perfectly calibrated and you need to know how to pipe batter. Then, if by some miracle the cookies come out ok with a perfect convex dome and a nice crusty "foot" on the bottom, you've got the filling to contend with! (For this you will need ingredients that aren't easy to find, some may need to be ordered if you're not willing to spend hours slaving. My homemade pistachio paste took two hours to make. I needed a candy thermometer and a mortar and pestle but I persevered and it was delicious.  The filling procedure would need to be a post of its own and I think would bore you to tears.  Just add 5 stars to my crown and read on) But what the hell. I was up for the task. It was going to snow all day on Sunday, why not?  Football season is over.  I spent two days finding all the ingredients and I took a stab at macarons.  Here are my findings. 

Weight not volume.
First off, you NEED a digital scale to weigh your ingredients. This is not optional. I own one, so that was fine.  I don't mind weighing, but it takes some time of course.  The recipe called for 100g of egg whites (not 5 or 6 egg whites)  I was a gram over as you can see.  I also weighed the castor sugar (that's just superfine sugar) almond flour, and confectioners sugar.  Those are the only ingredients in the cookie base.   I'll post the recipe at the bottom or better yet here is a link to the youtube video.  I watched this 27 times. (This woman from The Joy of Baking rocks.)   

Stiff peaks.
You will whip the egg whites til they are frothy. That takes about 1 minute, then you add the sugar in thirds and whip those til you have STIFF peaks.  What is a stiff peak?  Well, I learned via video and am willing to share.  Stop the mixer and take off the whisk attachment.  Smash whisk down into the mixture a few times then pull it out and turn it so the egg whites are facing upwards.  That pointy "beak" of egg white needs to be pointing straight up and STAY up!  If it bends down, you've got a beak and need to keep mixing.  Here is my stiff peak.  It took about 7 minutes of mixing.

Piping.
Of course the recipe calls for mixing and folding etc. (watch the video, that woman did a great job explaining) But the final obstacle was piping batter onto cookie sheets.  I'm a very inexperienced piper.  It is important that all the cookies are identical in size because in the end they are sandwiches. I give myself a C+ in piping.  See my trays?  They yellow cookies were too lumpy.  I moved the ziploc bag too much.  The green ones are better, but some are too large. When I did the pink ones, (after I took this picture) I was much improved on my piping, but that batter was more runny and when the cookies settled they ended up much bigger that I though they would be.  I had some GIANT macarons, not really what you are looking for.

Here's me sandwiching a batch cookies with my homemade white-chocolate-pistachio-ganache!  It was amazing.  See it in the little casserole tray. I've never made a ganache before but this one "set-up" perfectly.  (that's what you want when your making ganache - you need it to set.)

As you can see, at this point I was on the wine.  And yes, I drink wine out of a rocks glass.

Do you like my apron?  My friend Karen said it was very June Cleaver.  Well I'll tell you one thing, it was very messy by the time the evening was over.

So here's a shot at the final product.  I was pretty happy with the results.  See how the pink ones are too big?  Also, I think I'd use more yellow food coloring - they were very pale!  I keep scrolling up to the display at Paper Source. Theirs were SO pretty!  As far as taste, I think mine were right on.  The yellow ones were filled with a store bought lemon curd and the green and pink both had the pistachio ganache.

I was horrified to get home from work on Tuesday and see two big pink ones each with a tiny bite out of them in my rubbish barrel.  Apparently my son and his friends, do not like macarons!  Oh well, more for me! Be well Montanans. 

 

  

How to be prepared...my way

This weekend, starting on Friday, the East Coast had a "major snow event."  This is me and how I feel today after all the snow blowing, shoveling, cooking and cleaning and confinement-- with a mess of teenagers in my house all weekend. I'm a snow corpse.  School is cancelled for tomorrow too.  I'm tired just thinking of another day.  Please stray teens who are in my house, go home.  

Part of any snow storm is the getting prepared part.  There are things you need to do.  The problem is that more and more these storms are hyped and overproduced. Now they even name them, like Hurricanes! (This one was called NEMO, after the Captain not the Fish -- I think)  I've been fooled many times by the storm that's suppose to dump 20 inches and only leaves 2!  It's like the boy who calls wolf, over and over and on every channel at 4, 6 and 11. Its hard for me to commit.

But with this storm, the media was SO persistant that this was going to be EPIC (yes one announcer said EPIC three times during his segment) I decided to believe.  So once you committ, there are some things you need to do. 

My number one concern is always food.  Because food...you should know....is important to me.  You should have plenty of food.  Stuff that will be easy to cook if you lose power and if possible stuff that can hold warm a long time like chili in a crock pot or beef stew.  This also means lots of snacky food, fruit and vegetables, and dips. You want to have plenty of eggs and milk too.  Although I'm not sure why.  I get the eggs part, but why the milk?  I don't suddenly want milk during a snowstorm.  But eggs can be breakfast, lunch or dinner, and you can go through a dozen fast. (especially with teens in the morning for breakfast)

What else.  You need to have a gas tank filled in your garage for the snowblower.  You also need to make sure you can START the snowblower.  And that there is a clear path for the snowblower to get out of the garage.

You should make sure you have laundry soap.  Because you'll be stuck inside and you may as well wash all the sheets and dirty clothes. 

Make sure your oil tank is filled. (that's how my house gets heated)

Oh firewood.  You want to make sure you have a lot of firewood.  I had a cord delivered about a month ago so I am totally set there.

You need at least one flashlight that has good batteries.  Make sure it works.

And booze. 

I like to have a good cache of red and white wine.  And some whiskey and beer.  I bought some Bullet Rye and some extra vermouth, for in case I wanted to make some Manhattans. 

Oh and plenty of reading magazines, I like foodie ones.  And a book to read.  (Remember if you lose power you also lose TV)

If you've done most of this, you are WAY ready.  Knowing where your snowpants are stored, as well as your hats and gloves and boots --all that would be helpful, but isn't super essential.  You can find all that stuff during your confinement.   Here's me with a glove that is bigger than my head and a pair of snowpants that are size CHILD 16. 

And there are some steps above that I skipped.  You'll manage.

Nobody's perfect.
 

Over-thought-out thoughts on Manhattans

What can I say about my favorite drink? Last night, I mixed up some of these classics. They were perfectly balanced with the right amount of heat AND sweet, served at an excellent temperature in the perfect glassware. You can't go wrong by learning to make this one.  It's the one (in my opinion) you should have in your wheelhouse.  Like perfectly roasting a chicken and tying a Windsor knot, just learn it.  Trust me. 

So what can I say about this drink, well, maybe a lot.


I'm a purist when it comes to the Manhattan. I'm somewhat hesitant to share my recipe because it's so damn easy and I'll be outed like the Great OZ.  But, here goes.
First off there are only 3 ingredients in a Manhattan.
Whiskey, vermouth, and bitters. 

Whiskey:  The whiskey should be rye or bourbon. (If you need to know the difference please google.  Basically rye is made from rye and bourbon is made from corn, and rye is more potent, and there are tons of varieties of BOTH out there)  I like Knob Creek small batch rye but there are lots of ryes out there and you can choose your favorite. Whatever you use make sure it's over 80 proof.  It makes a difference! That heat you feel on the back of your throat when you sip, that's the alcohol! And it's required.

Vermouth: The vermouth should be the red kind.  Sweet.  (again google if you need more info, but in a nutshell vermouth is a fortified wine, made from grapes - so some is white and some is red, surprise!)  Some people make a Manhattan with a mix of half sweet and half dry vermouth.   There is a trend in bars to call this "Perfect" hence you'll see "Perfect Martinis" and "Perfect Manhattans"  Again, I'm a purist.  I'm all about sweet.  If your liquor store doesn't carry sweet vermouth, switch stores.  It's everywhere.

Bitters:  I often say "I know how to drive a car but I don't know how to build one." So I fall on my sword here with the bitters.  I have no idea why, but the bitters are angostora. If you find out why, please let me know in a comment. Buy the small bottle (on the right side of this picture wrapped in paper just like your Worcestershire sauce) and keep in in your liquor cabinet.  It's like club soda and a cork screw. It just should be there.  See note on liquor store and availability above.

Putting the drink together requires only a little love and the tiniest bit of time.  I use a measuring cup if I'm somewhere that has one.  If I'm making them at a cookout on someones back porch (umm, David?) I use my eyes and good judgement.  By the third or fourth round, sometimes judgement slips.  That's another post altogether.  You need some implement to stir and some ice.  And of course, a glass. 

So let's talk glassware.  When I googled Manhattan Drink and looked at the google image results I was disturbed.  Look at all the triangle glasses here.  Only one rocks glass on the bottom row and that isn't even a Manhattan in there (I'll explain later.)  So I've put it out there MANY times that I hate on the triangle martini glass.  They are clumsy and sloshy and spilly.  I've been known to ask a bartender what type of glass he's intending on using and then asking him to change,. You are allowed to do this you know!  If I'm at a bar and I'm suspicious, I'll just add to my order, can you please pour that in a rocks glass? It's not a huge deal.  (It's like getting your salad dressing on the side maybe)  The downside of a rocks glass is that they are often too big.  You're looking for a 5 oz glass or so.  My preference is the COUPE glass.  If you see champagne being poured, and it's not in a flute, it's probably in one of these.  They are rumored (I don't think this is true) to have been molded from Marie Antionette's breasts.  Isn't that something?  Again, that's stuff for another post.  Besides the breast thing, I like the coupe because its the perfect size and holding the stem doesn't warm up the drink too fast.     

Put your glasses in the freezer before you start to assemble the drink.  I won't hate on you if all you have is a martini glass, but maybe for Christmas, put some nice coupe glasses on your Santa list?
Now the recipe:

• 2 oz of whiskey
• 1oz of vermouth
• Three good shakes from the angostura bitters (I don't mean 3 drops, three SHAKES)

Put these ingredients into a pint glass, measuring cup, or cocktail shaker and add 4 or 5 ice cubes.  STIR
Do NOT SHAKE. A Manhattan is never shaken!  It may get the drink to the same coldness as stirring, but it will be cloudy and ugly.   I use these chopsticks that I have (they are in the picture above) but use whatever. If you own a bar spoon that came with that cocktail kit from Brookstone, use that. Just stir with your wrist about 50 times.  It's ok to count, or not.  Then strain that good & cold stuff into the coupe that you've just retrieved from your freezer.  Add a maraschino cherry and you are done.  (you will sometimes see a lemon rind twist come out from behind the bar too, but usually that's when dry not SWEET vermouth is used.  I already said, I'm a purist.)  

Some helpful maybe tips when bar ordering. 
Depending on where you are, there are some things you may want to do when you order these out.
First, look at the bar.  Do you see the brown liquor?  Do you see something you know or like?  Are the options very limited? You can call out your base.  I'd like a Makers Mark Manhattan please. Totally acceptable.

You MAY want to instruct your bartender that you want the drink served up.  (strained into glass with no ice) A good bartender will know this. Remember that picture with the google images?  The rocks glass had ice cubes in it, Manhattans are not served on the rocks.  (I don't know what that drink is, but if it's served on ice, it's not a Manhattan) This is also where you may want to think about what glass he/she is grabbing off the shelf.  Maybe you like like the triangle? (bleck)  It's your drink AND your call.

And remember, if you see that term perfect, it usually means the ratio of sweet to dry vermouth. If the bartender responds with a shrug and  "I'll try" and thinks you meant "perfect quality" you may want to stop him/her in his tracks.

And if your bartender is wearing a nametag (or a button that says Please tip the Bartender) you may want to just order a Heineken instead.

Happy cocktail-ing, in moderation of course.