Goren’s Back!
Tonight is the Season Premier of Law & Order: Criminal Intent. My Mom came over and watched last season’s finale in preparation for tonight. Goren’s back and I’m a happy girl. I’ve missed him.
And this season, we’re getting a taste of Jeff Goldblum on L&W:CI. This should be interesting. I’m hoping there is some interaction between the two characters.
Goren’s back! He’s older and perhaps slightly more imbalanced and quirky. After all, he’s the son of a serial killer. I don’t care. Welcome back, Mr D’Onofrio. It’s time to get your Goren on.
For Love of Sopressata
While standing in front of a deli counter at the Granville Island Public Market in Vancouver, B.C., I fell in love with sopressata. The deli guy handed me a piece of the dark, red meat and the lively aroma reached my nose even at an arm’s length. It was thinly sliced and I couldn’t resist the desire to hold it up to the light to peer through it – a red and white stained glass window. The flavor exploded as it landed in my mouth: pork, garlic, red pepper flakes, and a crunch of peppercorn. I licked my fingers and ordered a pound. And there began my fascination with sopressata.
The dried, cured sausage is soft, not hard, somewhat like a pepperoni and often called a salami. In Rome, a cheerful, old butcher told me that in some parts of Italy it is known as a “poor man’s” salami – made from the leftover cuts of the pig. So far, my favorite “slice” came from a little storefront shop on Corso Italia street, in Piano di Sorrento, in the south of Italy. It just so happens that the best focaccia I’ve ever tasted came from the same shop. The memory of those flavors is still vivid.
Though I often recreate the meals I’ve eaten in restaurants, I’ve not yet had the courage to try my hand at curing, mostly because poisoning my friends and family with botulism is a very real possibility. On his blog, Notes from the Food World, Michael Ruhlman posted a recipe adapted from his book, Charcuterie: The Craft of Salting, Smoking, and Curing, for making sopressata. Ruhlman, a food god, is also the author of The French Laundry Cookbook, that I previously blogged about. Like a professional athlete, Ruhlman makes it look so easy. But I’m a smart girl and I know my limitations, so for now, until Ruhlman wants to invite me over to make it with him, I’ll stick to buying sopressata wherever I can find it.
Oh My Goodness!
Tonight we brought home a Christmas tree destined to spend its final days in a dark office at Canon Press. It traveled home on top of my car and got covered in snow – which seemed totally appropriate. When I lifted it off the car it was frozen flat on one side and wasn’t displaying its full glory.
As I carried the tree in the house, Kaitlyn stood inside the back door and said, “T’mon Judy…you tan do it.” I had to set down the tree because I was laughing so hard. I cleared a path of furniture to the tree’s designated resting place and then carried the tree through the house. A few of the frozen needles fell off and left a path on the floor, which Kaitlyn insisted I sweep up right away. She helped by pointing them out to me.
Down in the basement we found some Christmas decorations and a few boxes of lights. I plugged in the string of lights to test them which caused Kaitlyn to “oooooh and aaaaaah.” I draped them on the tree and then connected the star. Needless to say, the effect inspired four or five verses of “Oh my goodness, Judy. It’s so bewtiful.”
It was getting a bit late so we decided to leave the rest of the decorations until morning. Caressa and I easily convinced Kaitlyn to get in bed by stringing the last box of lights over the window trim in her bedroom. From his crib, Jeremy’s eyes twinkled and a great big smile broke out on his face.
I’m so thankful to be sharing Christmas with Caressa and the kids. It’s a blessing I never expected. My heart is happy and I feel like Buddy the Elf does about Christmas. I like smiling. Smiling is my favorite thing. I serve a gracious God who always manages to add a little something special to the story of my life.
Somewhere Between Here and There
“When I find the perfect house,” I said with a wink, “I’ll sell my house in Potlatch and move to Moscow.” Of course, I didn’t believe I would find it, so there was little need to be concerned.
I invited my real estate agent, Teri Skiles, to come and see my house. I showed her all my favorite parts: the kitchen, the bathroom, the closet, the garage, the basement, and all the charm that comes with an old house. Basically, I love every part of the house and I’m finding it very difficult to leave. I said, “Find me something like this and I’ll be a happy girl.”
A few days later we were sitting in her office and I had just finished signing paperwork. “I know you said you didn’t want to see any more houses until you sold yours,” Teri said rather sheepishly, “but I may have found the perfect house for you.” And she did. It has everything I want and more.
This time around, I’m uncharacteristically calm about the whole situation. Finally, after way too many years, I’ve learned to let go of the wheel and trust that God is in control. Maybe it’s because I’ve been encouraged by Alice Miller’s faith, maybe it’s because I’m older, or maybe it’s because it’s the right thing to do.
The offer was accepted. The loan was approved. Please pray that my house will sell, I’ll find the time to pack, and that this part of the story will bring glory to God. Somewhere between here and there…I’m thankful and looking forward to a change.
Oh Baby It’s Cold Outside
Thanks to Nathan, my nephew, I can gaze out the backdoor to check the temperature and pay homage to my SF49ers at the same time.
This afternoon, the temperature dropped from 30 to ten in just a few hours…and now it’s six (6) degrees.
It’s beginning to look – and feel – a lot like Christmas.
