I Knew Her When. . . Sort of

Meg Whitman of Ebay fame is running for governor of California. According to Tina Brown's blog, Meg is an arch conservative. Well, not my zebra, not my zoo.

I actually worked at the same company as Meg many moons ago. She was a divisional president and I was an IT dweeb, so we didn't interact. The company was forever trying to keep a human face (those days are gone forever) and one of the things it did was ask executives (maybe even the rank and file--I don't recall) to bring photos of themselves as a child. Meg's photo was her girlish self with a whopping big fish she had just landed. Cool kid. Cool photo.

One of my colleagues who did interact reported that she had a fantastic stragetic mind. Someone else reported that she was a revolving door for secretaries. Gee. Remember secretaries? How quaint. Maybe she was demanding, as one would expect.

Meg left to work for an internet florist, where she obviously learned a whole lot about net business. The next person to occupy her office had an Oriental rug and a white leather sofa which I promply put into a novel. This divisional president had a hissy fit when we cooked broccoli in the IT microwave. It did stink and we were on the same floor. I never cooked any, but some did. Actually fish in the microwave at lunch time is worse.

Speaking of food, and aren't we always, this week I made Chicken Piccata from Cook's Illustrated and it was a winner. The wonderful chocolate/mocca cookies are gone.

S.O. has a birthday and #2 son is arriving, so we're having a pork roast with creamed spinach, mashed potatoes and gravy, applesauce and for dessert- ta da! Chocolate panna cotta with portwine ice cream.

We ate tiny scoops of port wine ice cream in DC at Poste, and it was incredible. I found a recipe on the web. The ice cream tasted to divine with the dark chocolate. Haven't made panna cotta in ages. So we are in for a feast, and then the leftover pork will naturally be Roast Pork Fried Rice. We're doing all this in lieu of going out.

Have you seen the commercial that asks why spent $40 on a family dinner out when you can eat pizza on the cheap? My question is: where except a fast food establishment can you have a family dinner for $40? Certainly not with wine and tax and tip. Hell, you can barely eat lunch for that.

I submitted a memoir piece to an ezine and have one more submission to make, then everything I've written in the last five years will be out looking for a home. How cool is that?

Off to put the clothes in the dryer. The mundane always calls.

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Mad about Madoff - it's Only Money

Gosh, we're all going to be poor, not just us retired slobs who have seen our IRAs tank, the fools who bought houses with no money down and no assets, and the working stiffs out of a job or with their 401Ks in tatters. Now, it's the super rich who have invested with Mr. Madoff who may be selling pencils on the street.

Does anyone actually sell pencils on the street? I don't think so. For everyone out of money or in reduced circumstances, there is fallout for the rest of the economy. The New York Times had an article about nannies and cleaning help out of a job. We haven't gone out to eat nearly so much in the last few months. Drove to Chicago instead of flying to California. Shopped at Kohl's and Eddie Bauer's outlet instead of Macy's and, well, you know. Baking bread, getting creative with leftovers, shopping the grocery store specials.

In days of yore, I spent some time in Palm Beach, shopping and visiting trendy restaurants. It was fun and I loved to have lunch at Ta-Boo on Worth Avenue, and watch the passing scene.
http://www.taboorestaurant.com/ For a writer, it should be a write-off. Of course it would help to publish something. In Palm Beach I discovered Sesto Miucci shoes ( http://www.zappos.com/n/br/b/145/Sesto%20Meucci.html) that my feet love so well. Saw the Chuli glass at the Museum. Walked Worth Avenue gaping at the show windows.

One would think that resorts and winter homes would be more casual and laid back, but I saw these hideous formal gew-gaws and knick-knacks and table settings and lamps that looked like something in the Newport mansions of the 1800's. Why? Nothing informal about it. Stiff and pretentious and totally boring.

On always thinks of the very rich as somehow financially savvy, folks who would know to diversity and realize that slow and steady wins the race. Apparently not. Why settle for 5% on your investment if you can get 10%?

I feel sorry for the charities that will be busted, but not so much for anyone else. Greed, you know. The greedy have been getting their comeuppance. Is gluttony next?

Tomorrow we'll unpack the ancient ornaments collected over four lifetimes for the real tree and decorate the house as it has been done forever. I make my Mom's cookies and my own and try some new recipes. It would never occur to me to buy Christmas cookies.

We ate the pork roast again last night, and it looks like there's two more meals left. The last two will be our own stir fry, with yummy veggies and not much fat. Cheap, nutritious and filling, with good Basmati rice.

In my new novel, I'm contrasting the Cuban sandwich in the eyes of the bad guy and the heroine. I think the economy being in the toilet will give the bad guy some fits, too. After all, maybe his clients will be using less cocaine. The high cost of transportation. Yes, everyone feels the economic crisis, even drug lords.

Onward with baking and writing and holiday prep. Don't be too depressed. It's only money.

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Red Snapper, Pork Roast and Shopping

Holy freakin' crap! I've been cooking up a storm, starting with a 4 lb. red snapper that our house guests brought. Fortunately, this was not a surprise and I had a simple recipe with garlic, lemon and thyme printed out. The fish was huge and we didn't have a platter that big, so we served it in the baking dish. This was Friday, and for lunch today S.O. and I had cold fish with a mustard-mayonnaise sauce with capers. With the fish Friday we had cherry tomatoes provencal, tiny new Yukon gold potatoes and a fancy salad with iceberg lettuce. I made pumpkin tarts for dessert, with wonderful flaky crust and light as a feather filling.

Did I mention that due to the ugly storm we had, the power was off almost all Saturday morning? I had to use a match to get the burners going, and chilled the tarts in a chest with ice. Was dreading beating the egg white by hand when, yowza, the light blinked on again.

Saturday we visited the Wrentham Mall, and I'm happy to report that the parking lot (acres and acres) was full, the stores were full, with lines to checkout, and people had bags and bags of purchases. Now this is a discount mall, but nonethless, there were crowds of shoppers. Good sales, too, and we left Eddie Bauer and Williams Sonoma with big shopping bags. The Lindt Chocolate store had ever-so-yummy offerings.

Came home and made the New York Times old standby pork roast with lemon, garlic, and thyme, carrying on a good weekend tradition of seasonings. More of the same salad, 4 more tarts for desserts, but I made the Thanksgiving hit of a gratin of cauliflower and Brussels sprouts.

Our friend brought a cranberry orange cake that we had for breakfast and in mid-afternoon. Very tasty and seasonal with red berries. We watched an old (1980) Walter Matthau movie called Hop Scotch. He was a spy in from the cold who went back to work and caused grief to his old employers. Much fun and cleverness.

This morning I made oeufs au beurre noir. Again from the New York Times Cookbook, always a trustworthy source.

In the afternoon we read the Sunday papers and are watching the Patriots, who are winning.

I love the weekly NY Times Style section. In spite of former aspirations to style, I have become totally unstylish. This was brought home by a perusal of some 1977 photos of a vacation trip where I wore one cool outfit after another. Can't imagine the size of the suitcase, and this was on a small boat yet, and moi size 4 and legs a mile long. Could this be me? In the Terrific T-shirt. Man, that was some cool shirt. Hard to believe,doing the Hustle with some guy in a bar on Fisher's Island. Ah, the days of our youth. . . .

So. We fed the cows yesterday and Iris's baby has definitely been shipped off to other pastures. Iris is still distraught and bawls and picks fights with the other cows. Baby is probably even more distraught. Poor little thing. Such big trusting eyes.

Thisbe is out from under the bed now the our company has gone. I stuck my finger giving her insulin shot and hope it wasn't me who got the insulin. Nursing is not my strong suit.

Back to the kitchen to heat up many yummy leftovers. The upside of cooking. Yep.

Onward,

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