I Love Summer

Baby birds are everywhere.  Gazillions of woodpeckers:  downy, hairy and flicker.  Baby tufted titmice, baby goldfinches, baby robins.  I hope we have baby hummingbirds.   Isn't our ruby throat the sweetest thing?  He dive bombs me when I'm working near the feeder.

The tomatoes are coming in, joining the beans and all the fresh herbs.  Tomorrow I'm whipping up a bunch of Pesto Genovese.   We've been grilling corn directly on the grill, and brushing it with a mixing of mayonnaise, lime juice and chili powder.  Yowza!  Is that ever good.  Last night we also grilled salmon, fresh WILD Atlantic salmon, so good, almost a different fish from the farm raised.  Like real maple syrup and the not so real maple syrup, there's a huge difference.  Tonight we grilled a rib eye and served it over baby arugula with a parmesan butter. More corn.  And yes, peach pie for dessert.  I really do love summer.  Here is a photo of the pie.

Peach Pie - even  the crust is Home Made

An uneasy truce

My mistress insists on taking over the blog today, so I'll hunker down for a nap.  The Orange Outrage and I have established an uneasy truce.  I catch hell all the time for trying to nosh on his Meow Mix.  I get  Atkins for kitties which I liked just fine until I tasted his chow.  My sources have told me the O.O. has been commenting on my blogging, and nothing complimentary either.  Well, as I always say, a cats gotta do what a cats gotta do.   Oooops!  Here's my mistress now.  Waving a paw goodbye. 

Back from the Peach State.  I brought (by local prices) about $8.00 worth of fresh figs home.  They weathered the trip.  The next day, we had a delicious pizza with  ricotta, the figs, prosciutto, fresh spinach and a sprinkle of mozzarella.  Beautiful and good.

I had the opportunity to swig some "White Lightnin" (vintage) while in GA, a real eye opener in more ways than one.  Mild and  flavorful with a mulish kick.  Yowza! 

On Sunday we went to a part forty miles east of Athens in farm country.  The host has an acreage, with cattle and a huge garden.  We ate his beef, tomatoes, peppers, okra, corn  and figs.  He has a structure with a big barbecue, counters, tables, chairs, ceiling fans--a kind of country folly.  He also has a one room house with all the amenities, but furnished with country stuff.   Just big enough to relax in the easy chairs or spend the night on the sofa bed.  With AC and a loo.  What a collection of cast iron!  I love cast iron.  Now, if I could only locate my popover pans.  Hope I didn't sell them.  

The Atlanta airport has a new (to me) feature, whereby a train takes the traveler to the car rental facility, and also back to the airport.  Pretty slick.  They told me, "pick out any car in the row next to the trees."  I navigated without GPS and of course the computer instructions had one glitch which left me stopping for directions at a barbecue place.  I do love Southern barbecue.  The Georgia botanic garden was wonderful in spite of the heat which was ferocious.

Back to the laundry, cleaning, and yes, writing.  Book will be done soon, then the rewrite.  I want to work on some short stories while I'm letting it lie fallow.  The garden is tremendous and we are eating beans, tomatoes and lots of fresh herbs.  Wild salmon is in the stores.  Life is good.

Grapeshot

Back to you Thisbe!

Yawn.

Medical Emergency

It is not my fault.  I swear it.  The Orange Outrage arrived with a puffy jaw and an abscess and I had nothing to do with it. I would not get close enough to bite him.  He's obviously been hanging out again with the Nevada Cat Club, a bad bunch that fights and stays out all night and gets into all sorts of trouble.  Not me!  I don't fight, just hiss, snarl and growl and only when provoked. 

They gave him the bum's rush into MY cat carrier.  Not that I have any love for that blasted crate.  Not me!  Hate the trip to the vet and all those dogs and the smell of death (we aren't fooled) and all the pain and yes, humiliation.  Stuck with needles, not gently like my mistress does when she gives me my meds but long sharp needles. I tell you the vet's office is a chamber of horrors.

The orange one is feeling better and he pretty much stays out of my face and I keep to the downstairs office except for food, freshening up, and a trip to my mistress bedroom at night. 

I can count!  I get exactly 4 pieces of snacks after my meds and my mistress tried to fool me with three today and I gave her "the look."  She offered another one.  I mean, really. 

The young guest leaves tomorrow.  I have no qualms at the sight of her suitcase.  Peace will reign again.  I wonder is she'll take the Interloper with her.  What if I am stuck with him.  Granted, he's a handsome orange fellow and I've never had a boyfriend, but strange cats give me the heebie-jeebies.

All fur, fat and outrage,

Thisbe

Berry and Farmer Cheese Tart

This recipe is from the July 1993 Gourmet, RIP.   It's reasonably simple, not ungodly in calories and looks and tastes beautiful.  I can't find it on the web, so by popular request:

Berry and Farmer Cheese Tart

For the shell

1 cup plus 2 T. all-purpose flour
3 T. sugar
1/4 t. salt
1/4 t. double-acting baking powder
3/4 stick (6 T.) cold unsalted butter, cut into bits
1 large egg
1 T. fresh (always fresh) lemon juice
2 T. berry jelly (I use currant or strawberry), melted

for the filling
a 7 1/2- ounce package farmer cheese
1/4 cup sugar
1 large egg
1 t. cornstarch
1/4 t. freshly grated lemon zest
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 1/2 cups mixed red or black raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries plus additional berries for garnish
A mint sprig for garnish  

Make the shell:  preheat oven to 375 degrees F.  In a food processor, blend together flour, sugar, salt and baking powder.  Add the butter and blend the mixture until it resembles meal.  In a small bowl, beat together lightly the egg and the lemon jice, add the egg mixture to the flour mixture and pulse the motor until the mixture just forms a dough.  Press the dough evenly onto the bottom and up the side of a 10-inch tart pan with a removable fluted rim and chill the shell for an hour.  Brush the bottom  of the shell with the jelly, prick it all over with a fork and bake the shell in the lower third of the oven for 18 to 20 minutes or until golden brown.

Reduce the oven temp. to 325 F.  Make the filling. In a food processor, blend together the farmer cheese, sugar, egg, cornstarch and the zest for 1 minutes, or until the mixture is very smooth, add the cream and blend the mixture until it is just combined.  Arrange 1 1/2 cups of the berries evenly in the shell, pour the cheese mixture slowly over them, and bake the tart in the middle of the oven for 25-30 minutes, or until the custard is just set.  Let the tart cool completely in the pan n a rack and garnish it with the additional berries and the mint sprig. 

t = teaspoon, T = tablespoon.  The crust is easy to handle and goes into the tart pan very nicely. 

The Birthday Girl

Today is my birthday.  Ten years old!  My mistress greeted me with catnip and congratulations, then I was feted with moist food, fresh water, and a little extra "Atkins for kitties."  I got extra treats after my meds.

Then the Orange Outrage appeared, and we were doing all right together until HE LAY DOWN IN MY CATNIP!  I hissed (lots of hissing practice lately) and retreated to the cool downstairs office where I sulked in the furnace room for a while and then curled up in the cedar closet for a power nap.

The small guest, child of the owner of the Orange Outrage, gave me a birthday present, a homemade mouse, (black and white, good cat colors) filled with catnip and the scent of treats. 

So far, an all right birthday.  Maybe I will curl up in front of the Red Sox game.  Maybe I'll  issue an extra vicious hiss.  And then again, maybe I'll just chill.

After all, a cats gotta do what a cats gotta do.

 Meow to all my readers.

Thisbe  

PAX Felinica! I am heartened.

The cats have been peaceful with minimal hissing, no growling or snarling.  They have no problem turning theirs backs to one another and just chilling in the vicinity (a few feet apart) of the other cat.  I am heartened!


The visiting cat was ushered (protesting) to the vet where he shed great gobs of fur, and got booster shots.  Gums a little inflamed so got antibiotic.  Fun began when we tried to give him the antibiotic.  He was having none of it.  This is a cat who will not take meds.  Our late Annie was so good about downing several pills twice a day that Rulon's behavior came as a shock.  Guess his gums will stay red. 

Rulon's owner is leaving him with us until Christmas, and we'll see how that goes.  The first test is when we will be away for a weekend and the cat sitter will come.  


Thisbe, who looks more and more like a plump black seal, spent the night on the floor in the bedroom, snoozing and chilling.  She seems O.K. with everything.  We'll see how it goes.


Now, back to blogging about cooking and writing and gardening (garden is rampant) and all that good stuff.  The photo is Scallops Provencal on a seventies style print tablecloth, so old and soft that it needs no ironing.  Yowza! 



Grapeshot

An Early Morning Hiss: the Catfrontation

In the doghouse this morning, due to a catfrontation with the Orange Outrage at 4:30 a.m.  I chased him back to his quarters, but woke up my master and mistress in the process.  Mistress was pissed and most unforgiving, but she did pet me.  I went onto the front porch and scouted for chipmunks, but didn't find any.  Begged for treats and didn't get any.  Sometimes, life in this household really sucks.

I can't encounter The Interloper without a hiss and a growl.  My mistress always tries to calm me, but I am psyched to chase this cat all the way to hell and back.  The girl can't help it.

All the adrenaline and excitement has made my coat softer and shinier.  Must be the exercise.  Well, a cat's gotta do what a cat's gotta do.     My mistress insists on posting another photo of the Interloper.  What can she be thinking?

Distress in the Water

From Janet Reid's blog:  A summer reminder for water safety.

  Drowning Behavior

Peace now!

The "Orange Outrage," also known as the Interloper, and lately known as Someone I May Eventually Like.  This cat is so smart.  He's been biding his time, quiet and effacing without being a pansy.  What he would like do to most is to go outside and each all the birds and chipmunks some respect.  He knows enough to take the high ground.  As a fellow cat, I respect these things. I would like to teach the chipmunks respect, too.   Last night we had another face-to-face and after my mistress calmed me, I was pretty cool with everything and we weren't more than a few feet apart and both chilling. We got treats for behaving so well.

  I smelled his food dish and didn't eat it, as he has been respectful of mine, and we share the litter box with no issues.  Well, I have issues about burying, but we won't dwell on those.

His smell is all over the house, as is mine, and it doesn't make me freak anymore.  In fact, I haven't freaked for days and we are no longer kept apart except for one daily socialization.  We're happy to be indoors in the terrible heat that makes a cat shed fur by the carload.  It must make him think of his old home in Northern Nevada where coyotes howl outside of town.  Makes me nervous to think about coyotes.  I would be a meal and a half.  Yikes!  Maybe they would devour the neighborhood chickens first.  I think I'm too big for the fox, but my mistress thinks otherwise.

This afternoon we can enjoy naps, baths and more naps.  I excel at napping.

Thisbe, at peace at least temporarily

A Desultory Hiss

I spent a nice day on the home office couch, bathing and undisturbed.  Late in the evening, I ventured upstairs for food, water, toilet and meds.  The Orange Outrage was on a chair in the dining room.  I didn't even notice him at first, and when I did, I gave him a desultory hiss. He didn't bother to return my greeting. Standoffish.
 My mistress calmed me, as always, and I decided to watch the fireworks from the Esplanade in Boston rather than create some fireworks of my own.  A lazy day makes a lazy cat.  Meditation is good.
What does this mean?  Have I accepted the Interloper?  My mistress, who knows me well, remarked that there could be "setbacks," and "don't everyone get their hopes up."  Whatever can she mean?
Everyone went to bed and the orange outrage disappeared into his chambers in the guest room.  I continued my snooze.  Let's see what the morrow brings.  

Thisbe, who has somewhat calmed herself.  The picture is not of me, but of the dessert my mistress made.  Everyone ooohed and awwed. It didn't even smell like catnip or fancy feast or Atkins for Kitties.

Saturday: A Day of Rest

Everyone left the house yesterday, and the Interloper was locked in the bedroom, which apparently he likes, lolling on the bed all day like a sultan.  I, on the otherhand, slept on the basement sofa, like the queen I am.  The Interloper was leery about coming down after everyone was home, and I gave him a pass by staying downstairs in the home office, which was cool.  Treats were dispensed, along with what my mistress called "meds," which is some device that she sticks into my hide twice a day.  It doesn't hurt, and I am calm because petting, schmoozing and treats are forthcoming.  A cat would be crazy to object.

This morning, OTOH, I emerged from said home office to find the Interloper sitting in the kitchen, big as you please.  He jumped on a chair.  Rats!  He has enough sense to always take the high ground.  We both spat, and I growled until my mistress calmed me with a back massage.  Then I slunk around.  Yowsa!  We both got treats, and since I was forbidden my drama queen act, I retreated to the coolness of the home office.  The Interloper is still on a chair, and quite comfy in my house.  Grrrr.  And again grrrr.

He uses my litter box and had the audacity to "mark" it, after I had marked it, but someone scrubbed it off.  Being a cat is a hard slog through life and endless difficulties.  My mistress says she would like to "come back" as a cat in her household, whatever that means.  People are very mysterious, and not catlike at all.

Off for another nap.  This patrolling of the house and asserting my rights as First Cat is very wearisome.  

Thisbe

Truce Declared

The Interloper and I have spent some time together.  He seems leery of me and hunkers down under the table or on a chair.  Of course, whoever has the high ground has an advantage.  I have only spat at him a bit, and went easy on the growls and didn't snarl once.  My mistress claims she is pleased with my progress.  I ignored the new toy but not the new treats. 
I must say all the excitement has been well, exciting and of course, I've always been a bit of a drama queen.  I have heard rumors of a spray bottle of water in case I get too feisty.  Must investigate.  In the meantime, naptime!

Thisbe, who is hanging in there and specializes in fierce looks.

Another Catfrontation

Last night the interloper dared come downstairs into the home office where I like to hang out.  I chased him back upstairs and under the dining room table.  My mistress tried to calm me by pushing me down and petting me, and I must say I did feel calmer.
The interloper sat under the table for a while, and I watched him, and then I turned my back.  We weren't looking at each other, and I was feeling a tad more accepting.  He is a handsome fellow, all orange with whitish stripes.  He's skinny, too, and obviously needs none of my "Atkins for kitties."   Rather a whole batch of fried chicken livers.  I, of course do not eat "people" food.   Diet nibbles, Fancy Feast tender beef (beef, not "beer" dammit)  and bottled water for me.

We had another little meeting in the middle of the night, and it was less frenzied.  Didn't realize I could run that fast.  Ah well,  exercise is  part of a cat's regimen, a smallish part of mine.

Talleyho!  Maybe another game of chase-y face awaits.

Thisbe (who insists on being the dominant cat).  After all, it's my house.

Another Face to Face

So there I was yesterday, schmoozing with my mistress in her bedroom, when in walks the house guest (HG) carrying this intruder.  My god!  He's still here.  I had hoped my nose was deceiving me.

He spat!  Viciously.
I spat!  Just as vicious.

We were separated, and he went back to the guest room.  I sniffed at the door with a ferocious big tail.  Then I was able to calm myself and go downstairs.  I overheard that he, too, had calmed himself.  So this event was not as stressful as prior ones, when my fear made me go ballistic. 

I suspect he's been eating my food and using the litter box, a cat's most private place.  What have things come to?  I think I'll retreat to my basement.  My mistress is always solicitous of me when I'm in a funk.

Thisbe