Questions courtesy of 金曜五.
1. Whatcha been up to?
I think you mean, "Hey good lookin', what'cha got cookin'?" 'cause for the past week I've been a kitchen magician.
My friend Spewgie ding dong ditched me some squash. Squashes. Or, in the Latin, uashsquay.
Two can play at this game, Spew-chan! I ding dong ditched her with a turduckhen. A chicken in a duck in a turkey. Ordered two from someplace in Louisiana and didn't have room for both of them in the fridge. At least that's what I told her.
Okie dokie as they say. Take your sword, whack the squash in half, scoop out the seeds, put the halves into a roasting pan filled to about three-fourths of an inch of water, put a chunk of butter, salt and freshly ground pink pepper which comes from the Reunion Islands next door to Madagascar which tastes pretty much like regular black pepper but is way cooler in the well of the squashes and let her go for about forty minutes at 350°F in a preheated oven.
I like my squash a little on the mooshy side.
I could see God. One of the Top Ten Bites Of My Lifetime. I mean squash is okay but this was transcendent.
Can you remember the top ten bites of your lifetime? I can. Vividly.
Spewgie does not know the squash varietal. Not butternut. Definitely creamy. Dark green with yellow. Gourd-shaped. Not a spaghetti-type fiberous squash. Not a pumpkin. Spewgie Jr thinks she can remember the roadside farm stand where she and her mother bought the squash but with her limited view of he world from her child car safety seat I'm not so sure. It was nice to listen to her describe it to me on the telephone though.
2. What'cha doing?
Writing my new book. The Clue Of The Weeping Stigmata, A Sister Mary Veronica Mystery.
A few rough notes:
Set in the picturesque fictional town of Wauwatosa, Wisconsin, Sister Mary Veronica, SSND, is a mild-mannered Roman Catholic nun who looks absolutely adorkable with her high Asian cheekbones in the habit, wimple and veil of The Order Of The School Sisters Of Notre Dame, principal of Holy Redeemer Elementary School For Girls and Mother Superior of Holy Redeemer Convent.
Sister Mary Veronica and Assistant Principal Sister Mary Jean (AKA Sister Spewgie) are going over the books and discussing ways of increasing revenue. Adding a bingo night? Ask parishioners of Holy Redeemer Catholic Church to donate items for yet another white elephant sale? A raffle?
Puzzled by dwindling weekly meal program ticket sales despite an increasing demand for hot lunches and spiraling budgets from the cafeteria ladies, the sisters hop in the convent's roadster to visit the school's vendors only to find prices have not increased. Hmmmm. They probably could have telephoned but because of their vow of poverty, the sisters do not own cellphones. And using the telephones in their offices never occurred to them.
After a round of golf (with borrowed clubs because of their vow of poverty and two sets of golf clubs in touring bags won't fit in the roadster's trunk), trip to the sauna wearing nothing but black towels followed by a quick shower and a Reuben sandwich with french fries and Heinz 57 ketchup at the country club, the sisters return to the convent for their black négligées and lace veils and hushed prayers.
The following day while on playground patrol to enforce Angelus, the noon prayer, Sister Spewgie notices the odor of alcohol on several eighth grade students. Elizabeth Johnson, Priscilla Smith and Effervescence Brown. Betsy, Prissy, Effie. The usual troublemakers.
"How I would love to see those three expelled!" confided Sister Spewgie. "Sister, we are not to judge. That is our Lord's work. Our work is to administer harsh and cruel punishment," admonished Sister Veronica. "We shall keep them under increased survelliance."
Early the next morning in the chapel while the girls prayed the rosary, Sister Spewgie noticed an almost imperceptible purple stain on the palm of Effervescence's hand, Effie being the only black girl enrolled at Holy Redeemer.
During recess, baseball umpire Sister Spewgie cried, "Play ball!" and Sister Veronica took her ups at bat; her pert, firm breasts and willowy, feminine curves of her body hidden by the voluminous folds of her habit and veil. The pitch came in low and slightly outside.
A resounding thwack echoed across the playground. As Sister Veronica rounded third base, she noticed Betsy had a purple mark on her right ungloved hand. And sliding into home, Prissy, the catcher, too.
"Miss Johnson. Miss Smith. In my office," Sister Veronica commanded sternly.
Sister Spewgie had already taken Effie into custody. The three girls trembled in fear in their navy cardigans, starched white shirts, navy and red striped ties, plaid skirts, navy knee-highs and black penny loafers. "Let's see your hands!" They presented the back of their hands. "With the palms up!"
Each girl had matching indistinct dark purple stains. "Weeping stigmata!" gasped Sister Spewgie.
"Not stigmata," Sister Veronica corrected. "That is spirit ink. Which accounts for the alcohol you smelled, Sister Mary Jean. These girls have been engaged in unauthorized use of the school's mimeograph machine. They have been printing counterfeit weekly meal program tickets!"
"And selling them to their classmates cheaper than face value, I'd vouchsafe!" exclaimed Sister Spewgie.
For their complicity, the girls received a sentence of no recess for the rest of the semester, praying five hundred rosaries and compensating the school for lost revenue by working the dunk tank at the annual parish festival. Girls who bought the counterfeit lunch tickets were given one hundred rosaries, one hundred pushups in the shower after gym class and mandatory sales of one hundred raffle tickets.
And it went on their permanent record.
Our next installment: The Fifteenth Station Of The Cross, A Sister Mary Veronica Mystery.
Of course it needs a bit of fleshing out such as discovering the body of an elderly nun strangled with rosary beads, being locked in the cafeteria kitchen's cold storage and endearing peccadillos such as a penchant for taking the convent roadster through the Burger King drive-through to pick up a family bundle for $12.99 and sharing her french fries with poor homeless people, Kewpie mayonnaise, eating french fries with chopsticks, Heinz 57 ketchup, wearing limited edition Onitsuka Tiger Colorado '85 leather triple whites rather than standard issue unadorkable nun's shoes, Ray-Ban Aviator Large Metal II in gunmetal with green lenses, Shiseido products visible in the shower scene, Victoria's Secret lingerie (in basic black, natch), etc. This will also ensure lucrative product placement. To play the role of Sister Mary Veronica in the major motion picture studio release, yours truly. I think it will be bigger than Harry Potter.
3. What's new?
Other than uashsquay and turduckhen? Nothing much other than my new invention which will blow the lid off the culinary world which may be a mixed metaphor!
Ladies and germs, I give you the MYRTLE!
Ta-daaah! Named after Myrtle The Wonder Cat. Looks a lot like a terimayo hot dog, doesn't it? That's because it is. Before deep-frying. Woman does not live on Chicago dogs alone. Feel free to quote me on that. Sometimes I have even been known to eat a Detroit Coney. Simmer the dog, put it in a bun, pin the whole shebang together with bamboo skewers, dip in batter, put it a pre-heated deep fryer, watch it swim around in the hot oil which is nowhere near as entertaining as a front load washer on spin cycle, drain, squeeze some Kewpie mayonnaise and teriyaki sauce on it and sprinkle with seaweed.
Voilà!
Or try the appetizer-size MYRTIE!
Do you know how I know Myrtles are delicious? 'Cause Myrtle won't stop begging for more!
4. What's up?
Well my trip to the Waukesha frozen custard stand for cheeseburgers and milkshakes didn't go exactly as planned. The joint was jumping. So. After waiting in line for twenty minutes I finally got two pints of custard and zero cheeseburgers. They were so swamped. I was lucky to get the Blue Moon and jack-o'-lantern before they ran out. Must have been the combination of the Halloween blue moon in the sky and the custard Blue Moon.
Stopped off for a martini and Reuben at Fox And Hounds and a rosary at the basilica.
Good thing I had my Igloo Playmate cooler with me.
5. What's on the agenda?
What dessert goes with turduckhen?
Cherpumple. AKA Piecaken.
I went to school with a girl who studied in Sweden or Norway or someplace on a dessert scholarship. A scholarship for making desserts.
We were on the cross country team and somehow we got paired up together. I think we were both late for practice. Sister Winfreda wasn't feeling well; Spewgie was filling in as coach. We used the buddy system when we ran in public parks or on the street. So. We're running at half speed and our teammates had disappeared in the distance. One of us said something and we both cracked up so bad we fell on the ground in laughter. After about five minutes we were sort of back to normal except now we're hopelessly behind the other girls and in danger of being locked out of school. In our ratty practice sweats that were much too big for us and we wore inside out so no one could see where we went to school. Fortunately, Spewgie drove by and we hopped in the car. She wondered why we were so far behind and we told her whatever it was that whichever of us had said earlier and now all three of us are laughing so hard that we were crying and Spewgie had to pull over.
At our fifth year reunion retelling that story was followed by an awkward silence. It would probably be a lot better if we could remember what got us to laughing so hard. It was really funny, trust me.
She was also the girl whose shoe came off during a race AND SHE WENT BACK AND GOT IT. Yes. During a race. You can't make stuff like this up. Well I suppose you could but I'm not the creative type. That's Spewgie's department.
For the rest of the season Sister Winfreda made her tape her shoes on. I would have made her tape her shoes on for lacrosse, basketball, softball and track, too.
Anyways, now she's a pastry chef and a big authority on cakes and pastries; when I asked her about cherpumple she looked at me like I just blew in from Mars. I guess Michelin star restaurants must have stopped serving the really good desserts.
Well that's okay with me 'cause my favorite type of restaurant is the Wisconsin supper club which are pretty much extinct and if there is one thing I can't stand it's leaving a restaurant hungrier than before I came in. Forget about your degustation menus with the descriptions bigger than the Lilliputian servings, wine pairings with the thimbleful of plonk, reverse spheriphication, liquid nitrogen, plankton-infused sea water gel. And then they act like they're doing you a great big favor.
Plankton-infused sea water gel. If I wanted to eat whale food that badly I'd swim around in the ocean with my mouth open. Like raindrop cake. And we all know how yummy that is. Except with all sorts of nutritious organisms.
And that glass potato chips business is for the birds.
Cherpumple. Cherry, pumpkin and apple pies baked in three different layers of white, yellow and spice cakes. And buttercream frosting! Three of my favorite food groups in one except I kind of cheated and was thinking cherocolotato. Cherry pie in white cake, chocolate pie in choco cake and sweet potato from Okinawa with haupia frosting. White cocoanut frosting on a vivid purple pie. I had never heard of frosting on a pie before. The same sweet potato as Filipino purple ube ice cream in the halo halo but from Japan. Baked in a cocoanut cake. Maybe pandan.
To begin my experiment, I made a cherry pie. One layer of the cake required cutting the cherry pie in half, placing it in an oversized lasagna pan kind of scrunched over to one side, pouring in the batter, baking, carefully removing it from the pan because the pie is far more dense than the cake and repeating the process. Five more times. And then cutting the layers into a circular shape and pray the buttercream frosting repaired some pretty serious structural flaws.
Y'know how in the Slinky television commercial the Slinky walks down stairs? Yeah. Because the steps are four inches wide. A Slinky won't walk down regular stairs without a care. Cold hard reality set in. Just like the grim realization our Slinky was not anywhere near as much fun as the Slinky in the advertisements. Based on a lie. No one told us we didn't have the right kind of stairs. Which was addressed in the groundbreaking Takahashi vs Slinky in which Supreme Court justice Spewgie upheld the death penalty sentence against the unrepentant Slinky Corporation, if indeed that is their real name, for crimes against the happiness of children. Why would anyone cheat two sweet little girls? Jerks.
Without round cake pans large enough to contain a whole pie, I was Slinkyfying the whole operation. And let's face it. Thanks to coronavirus, Thanksgiving and Christmas are pretty much cancelled. And forget about New Year's.
One year Spewgie and I went to a big New Year's Eve party high atop one of the fancy schmantzy hotels in downtown Chicago. Dinner, dancing to an orchestra, champagne. The dreamy life. She was Little Red Riding Hood; I was Little Bo Peep. While we're waiting at the bar, some drunk guy walks up to us and goes, "Where's your wolf, Red? And your sheep, Bo?" and our old boyfriends, who'd finally returned from the men's room, tapped him on the shoulder. "Right here, pal." The wolf was easy but we couldn't find a sheep costume big enough so had to rent a polar bear suit without the head and the zipper got stuck in the acrylic fur.
I just want to go on record and say that I would have been perfectly happy to carry around a lamb plushie and my shepherd's crook. Go ahead. Go as a stupid pirate. Waiting 'til the last minute and then expecting me to find a sheep outfit.
Oh. And somewhere in there was a great big cake.
So. I gave up. Which is uncharacteristic of me. But not for good. There is a cake baking shop where I buy food grade gum arabic for mixing Brandy Old Fashioned Sweets. Everything you can imagine for making cakes. And decorating. Big buckets of different frostings ready to go. Brides and grooms, grooms and grooms, brides and brides. For the wedding cakes. Planning a birthday party for Fluffy or Scruffy? Pick a breed, any breed. Birthday candles, Kwanzaa candles, Hanukkah candles. Even airbrushes and compressors for painting cakes and edible glitter. They will have big round cake pans. Maybe for the Fourth Of July. And I did get a cherry pie out of it. Wasn't a total loss.
And that, dear reader, is why I shouldn't respond to 金曜五 after drinking gin all night.
Friday5 questions courtesy of Scrivener. Thank you!
Friday 5 for November 6: Stick ’em up!
1. When were you a stick in the mud?
My uncle's funeral. The immediate family was supposed to hang around the cemetery until pretty much all the other mourners left and then go to his favorite restaurant for Brandy Old Fashioned Sweets and eating together without social distancing and obviously not wearing coronavirus masks.
I even wore my tropical face mask made of aloha shirt fabric because we enjoyed vacations to Hawaii. 2019 was the last time we cruised together. My mother and I, my uncle. aunt, several cousins. My first time aboard a non-Holland America ship. Our 2020 trip was cancelled.
So sorry. I am in a high risk group.
2. What’s a real stick-to-your-ribs meal you enjoy?
Lately I have been hungry for Bavarian food. The cuisine of love.
Only known photograph of König Ludwig and Königin 勝美. Yep, you guessed it. I'm a time traveler.
'Twas love at first sight. Well, for him anyway. Chasing me all around our castle. "Liebchen! Mein schotzi!" "Get your paws off me, you big palooka!" Poor thing. I drove him mad with desire. A whirlwind fairy tale romance.
König Ludwig's Schnitzel. Mit weißem spargel und sauce Hollandaise. Pan-seared veal schnitzel topped with tender spears of white asparagus and velvety lemony Hollandaise. I plagiarized that from a menu I found online. Traditionally served with boiled, parsley new potatoes but I would order french fries and Heinz 57 ketchup. Queens can do that.
3. When did you most recently regret sticking around for something?
The wedding I attended a few weeks ago. Wish I would have left the moment the outdoor ceremony was over.
Perfect example of why wedding receptions should be cancelled during coronavirus. Have the party next year. I just stayed at my table and drank bottled water. And tried to render first aid to one of the groom's grandmothers.
4. When did you recently navigate a sticky situation?
We can no longer have neighborhood association parties at the neighborhood historic house because the Historic Society sold it. As an alternative to nighttime Trick Or Treating and because there weren't enough volunteers for individual block "parades", I was thinking some kind of socially distanced parade at the park. The little ones could march around in their costumes for treats along the "parade route" or maybe like an Easter egg hunt. In the dark.
Permit denied. Two weeks is not enough time to process the paperwork.
BLM rioters called for another of their so-called peaceful protests at the village park on Halloween night.
So. I called City Hall.
勝美: If you allow BLM to use the park, I'm going to sue the city.
City Hall: A BLM representative paid the twenty-five dollar non-resident park fee.
勝美: I am a resident. My request was placed two weeks ago. I was informed the park was available but my paperwork was submitted past the deadline.
City Hall: I'm sorry, but...
勝美: I am Asian. Are you saying black lives matter but Asian lives do not matter? That's what I'm hearing. May I please speak with your supervisor?
Permit rescinded. No protest.
If I don't get to party, nobody gets to party. Had I known it was that easy, I might have circumvented the whole Summer Of Love.
5. What recently gave you sticker shock?
Do you have any idea how much a car costs in Thailand? Lots.
There is a three hundred percent import tax on automobiles. And you can't get the car of your dreams.
Let's say we want a 2020 Z4 roadster. Lots of luck, pal. All kinds of BMW crossovers and SUVs and that's about it. The closest we're going to get is a Boxster or a Mercedes SL. No Miatas. Thailand is in the tropics. A white roadster with light grey leather would be nice. With air con (or as we call it, air conditioning) for hot 'n' humid beastly days. Which happen a lot unless we're in the mountains. And, believe it or not, a demister (defroster). Trust me. A demister is considered an essential. Unless you are driving a Jeep-like vehicle without doors. Notice how I said Jeep-like. No doors in monsoon season has got to involve bailing out the passenger compartment. Unless we've permanently removed the drain plugs. Or given up and drilled holes in the floor of our Jeep-like vehicle and cover them with a floor mat to prevent geysers from squirting up when we drive through a puddle.
Don't worry about unimportant stuff like which side the steering wheel is on (hopefully right, we're in Thailand), automatic or manual tranny or turbo-charged engine.
Hope you're sitting down.
There you go. A brand spankin' new white Boxster. Actually a seventeen-year-old, high-kilometer 2003 Audi TT Quattro. On sale for only ฿750000. Or $24,517.82 at current exchange rates. If you could find a new Boxster or Mercedes SL in whatever color, expect to shell out close to half a million bucks.
Godspeed with delivery 'cause that's in Bangkok and we're in Kamala. Phang Nga Province. 838 kilometers away. So you should get it in time for Christmas. Next year.
Just get the green Suzuki and be happy.
Questions courtesy of The Friday Five. Thank you!
1. What was the best part of your Halloween this year?
There wasn't. As neighborhood association Halloween Queen, I cancelled Halloween. No nighttime Trick Or Treating, no après party with a [supervised] fire for making s'mores with the older children helping the young ones and maybe just a little bit spooky stories, no Chili Cook-Off Competition for the adults.
Running the coveted Neighborhood Association Golden Ladle Award through the dishwasher not recommended 'cause all the glitter will come off.
I did go to the frozen custard stand for their very special Flavor Of The Day. Blue Moon. No carhops and strict social distancing kind of puts the crimp in the drive-in experience.
And all the neighbors went outdoors to view the blue moon. In the sky.
2. What is your best Halloween memory of all time?
My boyfriend knows my favorite animal is the dairy cow. He begged his mother to make a Holstein-Friesian outfit. One of those adorable little kid hoodie and sweatpants costumes. With spots and a tail.
And because of coronavirus, a matching spotted mask.
Then he asked his mother for permission to cross the street to see me.
3. What are the three things that you enjoy the most about the fall season?
1. Walking through the forest in the crisp weather to the spring to gather watercress.
2. Stopping at roadside farm stands for baking pumpkins and jack-o'-lantern pumpkins.
3. Attending morning Mass and then climbing the bell tower of the basilica and walking the Stations Of The Cross.
4. What is your favorite autumn memory?
Driving home through the forest from the supper club, a special type of restaurant unique to Wisconsin that has unfortunately become extinct, on a soft autumn night with the top down on the roadster. On twisting leaf-strewn asphalt roads with my favorite songs on the stereo.
Hard to believe being that young. Still in high school. Rina, the drummer, and I are the same age. Trying to get a visa and tickets for their fifteenth anniversary concert in Osaka in August.
5. If you could travel anywhere to experience autumn, where would you go and why?
Stay right here. Winter is my favorite season; autumn is a close second.
A few weeks ago, experienced a glorious Indian Summer day. Put the top down on the roadster and went for a spin. Was gone all day and most of the night. Even took the ferry to Washington Island.
