by Christine | Cooking, Life, Observations
It really does take skill to kill a perfectly grown cabbage, but I apparently have that skill down pat. But let me ease you into the horror…
Here’s a photo of my beautiful ruby cabbage, just after being picked.
The garden haul on June 8th. Ruby red cabbage, squash, potatoes, and bell peppers. Yum! (Tomatoes in the background are from the 7th of June)
It was a great day to harvest in the garden. I decided that the cabbage was looking a bit “done” with growing, so decided that Sunday was The Day. I didn’t have a clue as to what to do with it, but I didn’t want the bugs or whatnots getting to it before I could, so I decided to deal with how to fix it later.
When I picked said cabbage, I found the plant marker that came with it when we bought it, and on the back side was a delicious recipe for sweet and sour ruby red cabbage. Perfect! The Answer to my Prayer! How could I go wrong?
It’s An Art. Ruining Cabbage.
No, seriously. I can usually make anything taste good, but I’ve found you need to pretend to follow the directions. Especially in regards to proportions. (Who knew?!)
Okay, so the recipe goes like this – 1 2lb red cabbage, sliced thin (about 12 cups); 1/4 c butter; 6 Tbsp sugar; 2/3 c balsamic vinegar; salt & pepper. And proceed as you would expect.
I fell in love with the patterns inside the cabbage.
The problem? I had one cabbage. Not two pounds. Certainly not twelve cups. But I forged ahead anyway. Pan? Check. Melted butter? Check. Cabbage? Check. In it all went, along with the sugar.
Cabbage, simmering in butter and sugar.
Six tablespoons of sugar didn’t seem like a lot until I was on tablespoon four. And then suddenly, six seemed like too many. But I’d put in the requisite 1/4 cup of butter, so the six tablespoons of sugar seemed necessary. So I went ahead and did that. As well, I added the 2/3 cup of balsamic, stirred it, put it on low and covered it. Thirty minutes? Seemed like a lot of time, but okay.
By this time, the house started to smell like cabbage. With a heady balsamic scent, yes, but…unmistakably cabbage. I began to remember why I liked my cabbage in salads.
I’m not totally sure what happened after that, but I think I was on the computer. Or maybe I was reading…At any rate, the buzzer went buzz and I went to check on my masterpiece.
Um. Well…crispy. Crunchy. Kind of like molasses-covered, fried-in-butter cabbage, only not really. The juices were thick and black as tar. The cabbage was either burned, crispy, or raw. (Not sure how that happened.) I served it at the dinner table, because I wanted the boys to understand that even Mom has a bad day cooking but you should try everything once.
We tried it. I tossed it. A novelty dish that threatened the health of your teeth AND tasted of cabbage? Yeah, no.
(I will say the EPA came around that night, having got wind of something unusual on their smell-o-radar coming from my house. After insisting it wasn’t my youngest son’s room with its dirty laundry, I confessed about the cabbage. They took it away to study. Better them than me!)
Here’s the sticky mess, in all it’s glory…I snapped this photo before the EPA took it away.
Carmelized cabbage. A new taste treat? Prolly not…lol!
Eldest son spent most of Monday afternoon scrubbing the tar – I mean, the carmelized balsamic – out of the pan I cooked it in. He napped for almost two hours afterward, poor dear. And so the carmelized cabbage goes into the family notebook about bad dishes served with enthusiasm. My hubby still teases me about the Spam casserole, and that was 35 years ago!
So what disaster in the kitchen have you had recently, or has someone served you? Let’s laugh!
And just for fun, ANYONE who wants one can have an e-copy of either one of my books (or both!), Demon Soul or Demon Hunt, and my short short, Blood Dreams. Just let me know, leave me your email address, and I’ll send it to you!
~ Until the next time, cheers! ~
~oOo~
Demon Soul and Demon Hunt are available for the Kindle and Kobo! Have you fallen into the Caine Brothers’ world yet?
by Christine | Life, Observations
An Epithilium from my back yard.
I love riding trains. I can get myself just about anywhere in London or Paris on a train. I’ve even handled the trains in Rome and Antwerp and Munich.
But California trains? I was shaking in my “stylish but inexpensive boots” at the thought of it (to cop a phrase from Buffy). Ever since I moved to the Los Angeles area, I’ve been paranoid about going someplace new. I need directions. Step by step directions. A map is also good, but directions are the best. They quiet my inner fear of getting lost in the wilds of L.A.
(As I think back, I believe my fear of driving in this town was entirely wrapped up in driving the manual shift car that my husband owned. Any time I had to take that car out, I freaked. I ended up totalling that car – but that’s another blog post for another day.)
So, Trains.
Courtesy commons.wikimedia.org
I knew I was being silly about it. So when the hubs suggested I take a train down to spend the last weekend on the boat in San Diego, and then drive home with him, I took my courage in both hands and agreed. (This is all part of my decision this year to do stuff that scares me silly.)
He found the online site so I could book my ticket (we went to the station here in town and both machines were out of order). And I did. It would be a four hour, forty minute ride. Four plus hours by myself. On a train. Romantic, right?
So the great day came. I had my youngest son drive me to the train station and then wait with me until the train came, because I didn’t want to get on the wrong train. (Yeah, like that could possibly happen. There’s only one track. ONE. TRACK. Which means one train. Sheesh.)
Then it came (a bit late), and those of us who had gathered, about twenty people or so, rushed the doors all entered the cars with our carry ons and crying children and canes and bags and boxes and whatnots. Several of us beelined for the stairs, to get the best window seats. Only – no window seats available. The train was pretty full, in that there was at least one person in every two seats. So I sat next to a nice, quiet college student who was studying, stuffed my backpack beneath my legs, and set myself to enjoy the ride. And of course I took notes!
From the Notebook
My notebook of choice – a graph paper Moleskine. Love them!
3:45pm. The people on the train seem to be either students or vacationers. Mostly backpacks and flipflops. I’d kill for a tablet right now instead of my laptop, lol…laptop is heavy!
It’s very strange, seeing parts of Los Angeles that I have driven/know very well through the window of a train. As if I were in a foreign country. The last train I was on, now that I think about it, was in Disneyland and really, that doesn’t count.
Our graffiti isn’t as interesting as that in the UK. Just saying.
I hope Susie Strong is doing well. (NOTE: She’s doing great!) Which reminds me, my mammogram went fine, the people were nice, and not mad that I didn’t bring in my films from 3 years ago. Was it only 3 years? Seems like a long time. A difficult 3 years…
Does everyone on a train, when there’s a “bump” or an unusual clanking sound, think about how to survive a train crash? Or is that just me?
4:30pm Finally have a window seat. My seat mate is getting off at Union Station and
The area around Union Station. Quintessential Los Angeles, yes?
she’s already gone downstairs. 3 hours and 20 minutes to go!
Leaving Union Station – we’re going backwards! Well, damn. Now I’m on the wrong side to see the ocean. Much gnashing of teeth now. Will know better next time! I am finally starting to relax…two hours into my trip.
Seen outside the window – slag heaps, excess railroad ties, wooden & cement ties with rails, gravel heaps, ceramic pipes easily 2 ft in diameter, portapotties, traffic, road construction, boulders, cement blocks, wild daisies, homes, bushes, wires, empty parking lots newer pre-fab cookie cutter homes. Kids playing baseball – so young!
Sign at the Fullerton Station – “Preserve America – Welcome to Fullerton”. I don’t get the connection.
There’s an army infantryman on board in full gear. One woman who passed him said “I can’t say thank you enough.” I wonder, has he seen combat? (He looks very young and still light-hearted. For some reason I believe that soldiers who have seen combat have a heaviness about their souls that takes some time to offload. But I don’t know. Just a thought.) I also wonder if soldiers all just accept the public thank-yous not only for themselves, but for all the other soldiers who have gone before?
6pm – Anaheim, CA Lots of California Native Purple Trees (sorry – don’t remember their real name!) shedding their blossoms, turning neighborhoods beautiful. People are dining out, bringing groceries to their apartment, watching kids swimming. More Americana and less sandpit. Nice.
I have decided “surf liner” is a misnomer – no surf to be seen so far! Way too far inland, grr.
So much of the land looks like a giant’s tinker-toy yard, but with real electronics and electrical panels and car parts lined up. Unsettling. “Integrity Metal” scrap yard?!!
(NOTE: I had some AWESOME photos. But I haven’t seen my small Nikon since I got back from that trip, so all my awesome photos are not here. Sorry!)
6:47pm San Onofre – finally the beach. It’s beautiful. Lots of people still surfing in the
Between the red marker and the Old Pacific Highway is the railroad track. I think.
water, lots of people on the beach having a great time. I’m still on the wrong side of the train, but so it goes…a marine layer has crept in. I’m glad I packed a coat.
The longest stretch without stopping so far is from San Juan Capistrano (beautiful) to Oceanside. Almost half the train emptied at Oceanside. BTW – the train has plugs!
7:16pm Waiting for a Northbound train to pass, so we can continue on to Solana Beach. From what I can see of the beach, it’s still crowded with people. (I’m on the ocean side of things, now. Much better view!) One of the conductors just ran down the aisle and down the stairs. Not sure why.
7:30 – left Solana Beach. Darker than it would normally be. We’re just stopped now across from the Del Mar Hotel (first time I’ve seen the racetrack/fairgrounds from this side instead of the freeway side). There’s a breeze and the waves are high. Not sure what’s going on. Outside, lots of people in fancy dresses. Prom? Probably. Still a couple of surfers in the ocean, several people on the beach.
Traffic outside is building up. I can see two big police cars – wagons (?) on the road ahead. We’re still stopped. Ah…waiting for a freight train to pass us this time. Stupid one-track train system.
7:49pm – still stopped. The Del Mar Hotel parking lot looks packed. Oh…conductor came on and said “Now let me tell you what’s really going on.” ? A passenger downstairs had become belligerent and was interfering with the duties of the train crew. Apparently that’s as much a crime as interfering with an airplane crew. So they had to stop the train, call the cops, and go through standard safety procedures, which all took some time.
Not Del Mar. But it’s the beach, and I took this picture, so…lol!
At least the view is pretty. We’ve been here about 25 minutes now; I will not be pulling into the Santa Fe station at 8:05pm. It’s almost dark, no more surfers or lingerers at the beach. And, we’re moving again! 8:01pm.
Amazing. I am on the cliffs overlooking the ocean – two feet away there’s a drop-off to the sand. This view is worth the whole trip. Sigh…now the beach is hidden, and we move inland.
We have to make one more stop. Since we stopped on a single track, two other trains had to stop and wait for us. Now we’re on a siding, and waiting for them to pass. Only fair.
Inside the Santa Fe train depot in San Diego. My thanks to Yelp! and Robert H. for the photo.
8:25pm…Here! What a ride!
The Santa Fe depot is mere steps from San Diego’s Little Italy.
So that’s Part One. More details next week!
~ Until the next time, cheers! ~
~oOo~
Demon Soul and Demon Hunt are available for the Kindle and Kobo! Have you fallen into the Caine Brothers’ world yet?
by Christine | Life
It was not quite a Retreat For One, but it was close. Unfortunately, this morning I am racing against the clock to get everything done and to work on time (too late!), so all I’m posting is this one photo and a teaser…
Photo taken by Tom Ashworth
My Adventure really started very close to home, took almost six hours, and has changed my mind about how to get to the airport from now on. Any guesses? Most creative answer will WIN something! (Don’t know what yet, but it will be something, lol!)
~ Until the next time, cheers! ~
~oOo~
Demon Soul and Demon Hunt are all available for the Kindle and Kobo! Have you fallen into the Caine Brothers’ world yet?
by Christine | Life, Wine Friday
Today an amazing woman who is a WANA friend is undergoing surgery for breast cancer. As today is also the day I get a mammogram, I felt that I had to give a shout-out to Susie Lindau (along with a LOT of our other WANA friends), tell her that I’m thinking about her, and to remind my other dear friends to not forget about scheduling your mammograms. I’ve been scolded for not getting one since 2010; both my doctor AND her nurse chided me about it. So here I go, into the squeeze machine, and you can bet I’ll be thinking of Susie and her doctors while I do so.
In Surgery Today.
Susie writes with humor and grace, and you can find her at Susie Lindau’s Wild Ride. Go check her out; she’s totally a blogger worth following. And to show your support, tweet her at #SusieStrong – Susie know you’re thinking about her!
For more information about the WANA Revolution, check out Kristen Lamb’s blog today. Talking about wine after discussing Susie seems a bit trivial, but – onward!
Wine Friday – Two Chardonnays for Summer
In these days of high unemployment and wild uncertainty, it’s nice to relax with a bottle of wine that doesn’t break your pocketbook. I’m here to sort out the memorable from the truly awful, and each bottle is under $10.
The Seeker California Chardonnay 2010 Alcohol 13.8% by Volume Website: TheSeekerWines.com
On the Label: “The Seeker relentlessly tracks down the world’s finest wines across time zones and continents. Our wines are made with care by talented winemaking families, crafting flavorful, individual wines from selected grapes where they grow best. The first Seeker wines come from France, New Zealand, Argentine, California, and Chile. If you share the joy of discovery, this wine is for the Seeker in you.
“The grapes for our Chardonnay were discovered across California’s finest cool-climate vineyard sites to deliver a wine with ripe pineapple, golden apple, and pear flavors with a smooth, creamy finish. Pour a glass and transport yourself to Sunny California wine country.”
My Take: I’m not usually a fan of what I like to call “consortium” wines (though that’s probably the totally wrong word); by that I mean, I prefer wines from a winery. From what the label says, these people go all over the world to find wines, then put their own label on them and import them. So it makes me kind of wiggly tentative about trying the wine.
But luckily, I bought before I read the label. This was a nice, easy-sipping wine, perfect for summer and fish on the grill. Barely any oak, so you stainless steel Chardonnay fans will be happy (though I’m glad I can say there’s no “tinny” taste at all). To top it off, it’s got a screw top, which makes it easy (especially for arthritic hands) to open.
My Rating: ~ Very Drinkable ~
Ooh La La Chardonnay 2011 California Alcohol 9.0% by Volume 
Website: Oohlalawines.com
On the Label: “Ooh La La wines are light and refreshing with just at touch of mouthwatering zing that allows the fresh fruit flavors to rush forward. The Chardonnay is lush and juicy with flavors of apple, tropical fruit and vanilla. The perfect start to any occasion! SERVE WELL CHILLED.”
My Take: At 9% alcohol, THIS is the white wine you want to serve at parties. It is ever-so-slightly effervescent, which was a delightful surprise; and it stood up to appetizers just fine. Plus the bottle is – wait for it – capped, like a soda. How innovative! I’ve only seen that on a couple of bottles in the past. (Bonus – they also put out a Rose´, Pinot Grigio, and Riesling.)
My Rating: ~ Very, Very Drinkable ~ Stock up, so you’ll be ready to go all summer long, no matter where you’re invited.
As usual, this is just my honest opinion and depend upon my mood, the weather, and what cycle the moon is in. Your taste buds will differ.
My Rating System: Undrinkable; Barely Drinkable; Drinkable; Very Drinkable; and the ever-popular “Stay Away! This is MY wine, you Slut!”
~ Until the next time, cheers – and remember to get that mammogram! ~
~oOo~
Demon Soul and Demon Hunt are all available for the Kindle and Kobo! Have you fallen into the Caine Brothers’ world yet?
by Christine | Life, Observations
When was the last time you went on a retreat? By yourself? With no agenda, but just to be?
This would be such a blast!
I can’t remember. All my travels have a purpose – writing conferences, mostly. Or vacations with the hubby, or visiting the family, or writing retreats with friends. But take ME on a retreat, with nothing planned? I am having difficulty wrapping my brain around it.
(I will say the closest I come to having gone on a retreat was when I visited Tehachapi, last December. I stayed with my brother and his gal, and had a wonderful time with no real purpose behind it, other than helping out some friends.)
Leonie Dawson put this thought into my head with her post about her retreat. Now, she has a 3 year old, and I don’t; so she had anxieties about leaving home that I don’t have. (My anxieties are much weirder uh, different.) But where should I go?
Maybe camping. By myself? Well, maybe not…
Aside from where to go, the other question lingers in my mind. What would I do on a solo retreat? Leonie’s retreat didn’t quite go as she had planned, but it was just what she needed. Three nights and days of solitude and the sea and sunshine, which refreshed her and refilled her creative well.
My circumstances are a bit different, and I won’t be planning any three-night stays in a b&b on an ocean cliffside any time soon. (Or on a Boat, Bed and Breakfast…) But I really want to go on a retreat, so I am going to start small. I won’t be all alone, but I’ll have my days free and I won’t be at home for two nights. Two absolute musts, as far as I’m concerned.
I shall go prepared, but without plans. Which means I’ll take my camera and my computer and my drawing stuff, and see what happens. And I’ll meet up with my man at nights for a yummy dinner and great discussion about what we did that day, plus the comfort of not sleeping alone. Sooo…
Back to Shelter Island Marina go I! Woo!
But before I can go, I need to get the Guitar book edited and off to the publisher (fingers crossed). Which means I need to hustle! The last thing I want is to have a deadline looming over me while on a retreat. That is NOT relaxing, lol!
(By the way, welcome to the new look of the blog! My thanks to Kristen Lamb for the new tagline.)
Have you ever gone on a retreat by yourself, with no plans in place? Does that sound like
something you would ever do? If so, where would you go? How long would you go for?
~oOo~
Thanks so much for stopping by. Until next time, cheers!
by Christine | Life, Observations
This year I have been surprised, time and again, by how my favorite flowers were also my Mom’s favorite flowers. The way they turn up in my life is amazing.
Spring shows me that star jasmine, that lovely, fragrant-filled star-shaped flower, should really be the unofficial flower of Southern California. This is a photo of the jasmine in my Dad’s back yard, and it’s what I grew up with – how could I not love the scent and appeal of star jasmine?
The star jasmine in my Dad’s back yard. It’s been there since I was a baby, and it was just a tiny plant in the ground. Oh, and the plant to the right is a giant pumpkin plant.
But what’s more, it seems like everywhere I go, I find star jasmine tucked away somewhere. In a corner, or a pot by the door of a restaurant. Used as an ornamental, a wall covering, or adding lacy appeal to a rustic fence. Just walking in my neighborhood shows me that most of my neighbors have star jasmine somewhere in their yards.
Jasmine as sculpture…
Decorating a rustic fence.
I enjoy walking from where I park my car to my work because of this lovely scent. It also makes the obligatory 45 minute walk around the neighborhood much more fun. Lately I’ve been taking a camera with me, and finding the jasmine and taking photos just perked up my whole day (though the neighbors watched me warily).
Brightening up an otherwise dull, unused corner.
I remember one summer evening before my father had torn down the swing set. I was sixteen and had just gotten dressed up (don’t ask me why!) in a kind of prairie outfit – blue skirt with a white underskirt (swiss voile? something like that) with a white top that laced up the front. I had just finished reading something sad and romantic, and I went outside and sat on the swing. Smelled the jasmine, heard the call of the mourning doves, and felt melancholy – I would never know love. I would die a terribly tragic death and everyone would feel sorry for me.
And then, you know, I got over it. But the memory has stayed with me, and every time I smell jasmine I get a slightly melancholy and yet happy nostalgia.
What about you? Is there a certain flower that resonates with you, more than any other?
~oOo~
Thanks for stopping by. Hope you have a safe and happy Memorial Day. Until the next time, Cheers!
