How did I post those photos?

I am going to try ONE more time to post that photo of my spiffy shelf, before I must pack to go to our cottage for the long weekend. On this blog site, there is a place where I can click on "post image" and then find the photo in my computer and then click "post it" -- all of which I did yesterday. Don't those seem like very good directions? If only they worked. And if only I had the techie-brain that remembered how I did it before -- but I don't. And Techie Man Who Plays Sheepshead On His Lunch Hour will not want to be disturbed by such a phone call just when he has all the jacks -- or is it the queens? I'm equally talented at games, tools, and computers.

Okay -- here goes my last attempt. If you ever get to see this photo, you will notice the gorgeous shelf unit next to my plastic one. That shelf The Man Who Knows How To Use Tools built, and is where I usually show off my daughter's fabulous pottery (see www.suzannecrane.com). Now his shelf functions as storage for the wine and raisin bran (life's necessities) on which we will live for the next couple of months. Whether you get the photo or not, I'll return to post a note on Tuesday -- and then the restaurant reviews will begin in earnest on Wednesday.

Still operating on Zicam and aspirin and anxious to be
Kitchenless in Brookfield

Photo

NINE SCREWDRIVERS

I’m supposed to be at a Waukesha County Park and Planning Commission meeting, but I have a nasty sore throat (a gift from The Man Who Has Been Carrying His Own Personal Kleenex Box For Days) and decided not to infest the other Commissioners.

After ingesting Zicam and enteric-coated aspirin from my vast supply of pharmaceuticals, I felt up to continuing my kitchen dismantling. What I still needed was a small, spill-resistant surface in the sunroom on which to put coffee makers (my personal fav is my expresso maker) and other electric small appliances. Though I intend to eat as many meals out as My Man’s Wallet Will Allow Without Major Discussion, I know I won’t want to drive to Starbucks for coffee EVERY day. I went to Ace for some sheet of plastic to cover the wood-topped cart that The Man With The Tool Infested Workshop made for me. Immediately inside the door of Ace I spied a small bookshelf being marketed to kids going off to college. It was laminated fake wood. And it was cheap - as in $29. It came unassembled, but otherwise it was perfect. On my way to the cash register, there was a tiny microwave, also for $29. I bought it too, trying not to think about the 9-year-old Chinese children who probably assembled the thing while being paid 17 cents an hour. And also hoping that it actually has wires in it connected to the right stuff so it doesn’t burn down the house that I’m remodeling. (Actually it’s not ME that’s doing the remodeling, just in case I left you with that mistaken impression. It is Cabinet Werks, my neighbor Mike Whalen’s business. And for that free advertising, he’s throwing in the dishwasher. Actually not. But what a fine idea, Mike!)

Anyway, back to the shelf thing from Ace. I needed to put my appliances on the thing, but The Man With The Tools was at work. I figured I could do it myself – doncha think? I unpacked all the pieces, keeping them in nifty little piles, and looked at the instructions, which consisted of a picture. No words. Now I am a words kind of person. But the picture had arrows and stuff, so I figured it might be possible, even for the Tool-Impaired. After putting one shelf on these pole thingys that are the legs, and finding the correct screw thingys to attach them, I decided it required a pointy-top screwdriver. But that screwdriver just spun around in the hexagonal hole of the screw thingy. Not big enough, I thought. Got a bigger pointy screwdriver. Still didn’t turn. Hmmm.... Maybe this kind of hole used a straight-ended screwdriver. Got one of those. Too big. Didn’t fit in hole. Decided this was to be my LAST trip to The Man’s Workshop That Could Pass For Milwaukee Tool Company, so I brought up lots of screwdrivers. Nine of them, to be exact. And none of them worked. That’s when The Engineer Who Forgot His Lunch walked in. “Oh,” he said, “You need a Phillip wrench.” Or maybe it was Andrew. Or Simon. Anyway, some male-named wrench. And he pointed to this little bent piece of metal that was among the parts that came from China. Ah, ha! It was actually hexagonal on the ends and worked swell, even if it could have had a longer handle, if you ask me. And it could have been shown on the picture that substituted for directions. The Man took his lunch and left. I proceeded to build my shelf unit, with only a tiny bit of foul language following the smashing of a sensitive part of my female anatomy between a shelf and a leg pole. I bet you wouldn’t believe that is possible, but I am not making that up.

Too bad my four and a half year old grandson went home after a brief visit last week. In the first place, I miss him desperately, and besides that, he knows WAY more about tools than I. He can name every piece of construction equipment made, here or in China. It’s gender. I can tell you the Latin name of most plants grown around here, and my daughters at age four could rattle off breeds of horses like jockeys. But I’m not sure that today they would know the difference between a bulldozer and a front-end-loader. If there is a difference. I have no idea.

Anyway, I'll try to insert a photo of my shelf. I’m pretty proud of it. And now it’s time for more aspirin.

Next week I’ll be
Kitchenless in Brookfield

PAIN IN THE RAIN

So what’s new? It’s raining again in Brookfield. My gardens have drowned. The only flowers still making an effort to bloom in the neighborhood are the black-eyed Susans, which I have, in the past, considered too “boulevard” to plant in my yard. But when it appears that that’s going to be it for color in this season, I may have to condescend to planting some of this plebeian stuff.

Tonight I was planning to make buffalo burgers for supper. Have you ever had them? Grasch’s sells buffalo, as well as ostrich and other cool stuff. Buffalo passes The Man's Red Meat Test, while being low fat. I served buffalo burgers to him without telling him what they were, so he didn’t declare them too “Funky.” He liked them, may wonders never cease. So the issue is: do I light the grill in the rain – again? The Man Who Does Nothing With Food But Eat It does not grill, in case you wondered. I think he’ll get them pan-fried tonight. I’m getting really tired of damp buns.

As for the pain referred to in the title for today’s blather, I would have said pain-relievers, but it didn’t rhyme. This kitchen packing has spread like a contagious disease through my house. First it went to emptying boxes in the basement for their usable packing space. Then I had to empty drawers and shelves in our sunroom, to make room for raisin bran and oatmeal and packages of paper plates. We will take nourishment in that room when not dining in one of Bluemound Road’s fine establishments. Today the packing contagion spread to the bathroom, in which, while kitchenless, I will attempt to rinse the coffee maker and whatever else requires water. Thus the need for a drawer for dish soap, those scrubby thingys, sponges, kitchen towels...

It is in my bathroom that the pain relievers come into the tale. The drawer I needed housed several flavors of Benadryl and Robitussin and the Alka-Seltzer Plus tablets. And then there’s the Tylenol. If simple Tylenol were the only pain reliever, packing it up and moving it would not require at fork-lift. However I have accumulated regular Tylenol, Tylenol PM, 2 bottles of Tylenol Arthritis plus a bottle of generic acetaminophen, in addition to one bottle of Bufferin, 2 of aspirin (one enteric coated), one of Advil, and 3 of Aleve. Should a headache strike you or any of your friends or family at any time, do drop right on over.

This entire over-the-counter pharmacy was rolling around among loose cough drops in the bottom drawer in my bathroom. (The Engineer Who Is Tidier Than His Spouse does not share a bathroom with me except when company arrives and takes over mine.) Fortunately, these pills, tablets, and syrups are only used sporadically here, so I decided they needn’t take up such accessible space. After a trip to Bed Bath and Beyond for containers, the entire supply is now stored in the linen closet, between the crackers and chips and the ice cream maker. Truly. That’s what’s in my linen closet. Plus eight flashlights, coffee thermoses for the car, an electric wok, my salad spinner and an entire shelf of vases. There a few pillows and a quilt or two on the top shelf, but it’s a token. At one of my daughter’s houses, one whole linen closet shelf is filled with candles. What’s in YOUR linen closet?

Almost ready to be
Kitchenless in Brookfield

KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN

KFC was next restaurant in line on Bluemound Road when The Man Who Thinks This Blog Idea Is Cool, But Doesn’t Actually Read It said he’d take me out for dinner. I had just returned from a harrowing, seriously-windy drive home from Evanston, Illinois, and I’d have accepted an invitation to eat out in our driveway culvert, if it meant I wouldn’t have to think about cooking – or anything else. Well, I did think about you all.

I don’t think I have ever eaten at Kentucky Fried Chicken. I probably won’t again either. Not that the food was awful. But... Don’t you think Bluemound must have better places at which to eat? I sure hope it does.

The lines were actually fairly long when we arrived at 7 PM on a week night. The drive-through window seemed to be constantly busy as well. The help was very cheerful – and helpful to me who doesn’t know the difference between extra-crispy and original fried chicken. I asked if they had any grilled or roasted chicken. Silly me. What do you suppose the "F" in KFC stands for?

As we waited for our order, I watched the workers filling orders in the kitchen. None of them were wearing any kind of rubber gloves. Isn’t that required of a person who is handling food? Perhaps not. They were using tongs and scoops to fill orders, but they used their bare hands to put the covers on the take-out tubs. I decided to ignore this and assume they wash their hands A LOT. The kitchen was not exactly dirty, but it wasn’t as clean as my own kitchen, which, on some days, probably wouldn’t pass health inspections either. I checked out the ladies bathroom while we waited, and chose not to use it. One stall had not been flushed (not the restaurant’s fault exactly) and the other stall had no toilet paper. There were tiles missing from the wall below the sink. Okay, back to my dwindling appetite...

I tried to order what other people seemed to be ordering, assuming the regular customers would know what was the good stuff. My not-extra-crispy chicken breast still had plenty of fat-absorbing coating on it, yet the meat was surprisingly dry. My mashed potatoes bore no resemblance to having ever been a vegetable of any kind. More like gooey, white soup. The gravy could have come from any kind of meat – or none. The cole slaw was tasty, but very sweet. The Man Who Thought He’d Died and Gone To Fried-Food Heaven decided to try Teriyaki wings. The menu said he’d get 8; he got 18! Even he could not eat all of them. The wings were coated with the extra-crispy stuff, deep fried and then drowning in the sweetest sauce you can imagine. His baked beans were perhaps the best of our items, until I looked up the nutrition information on this food. No wonder they were good: the baked beans have 220 calories and 20 grams of sugar in a single order!

Having been a weight watcher in a previous life, I occasionally check out the calories I’ve consumed – when it’s too late to do anything about it. My meal had 900 calories and The Man’s had 2060, had he eaten it all. YIKES! KFC offers 8 drink choices, but only one was sugar-free, and that one had caffeine, which I’d prefer to avoid at any time after noon, so I do not find myself staring at the ceiling, counting deep-fried chicken wings at 2 AM.

KFC's fowl is not just deep fried; it is "cheap fried." My chicken breast meal, which came with a biscuit, two side dishes and a large drink, was $6.19. The Man’s Teriyaki meal was $5.99. It’s scarey to think how this factory-farmed food is being raised, if they can ship it all over the country and sell it at those prices.

Hoping for better meals to come while I am...
Kitchenless in Brookfield

JOSE'S BLUE SOMBRERO

It’s not quite September, but we needed a spot for dinner last night after chugging about the Preview of the Parade of Kitchens – er– Homes, that is. There ARE some really cool kitchens in these high-end homes in Broken Hill subdivision. The islands in these kitchens are bigger than my entire kitchen. We noticed that the living rooms are pretty small these days. So do people entertain in the kitchen? Or perhaps in the bathroom. Master bathrooms are bigger than our "master" bedroom – and I’m not exaggerating. So are the master walk-in closets. While at the Parade, we met The Neighbors With The Stunning Hibiscus In Their Garden. We decided that four of our neighborhood families could move into one of these mansions. Well, actually, four of us would have to sell our houses to afford to BUY one of these homes. We all agreed that we love our neighborhood way too much to move into a new home, even if it did have (and one Parade house did) an exercise room, a home theater, a gallery, and a flex room – in which there was a pool table. You’d never see your kids again – which I suppose isn’t always a bad thing...

Back to Jose’s Blue Sombrero at the corner of Barker and Bluemound, a location which has been called Goerke’s Corners as far back as when my not-yet-18-year-old brothers would drive from Wauwatosa to buy beer in Waukesha County. But I digress. I must learn to be more professional if I’m to be taken seriously as a restaurant critic.

The Handsome Guy I Was With Who Was Dressed In A Sportcoat and I sat outside at Jose’s to check out the al fresco ambience, even though it was a bit chilly for August in WI. We also chose to sit outside so we could converse. The decibel level throughout the seating area inside was nothing short of astonishing. No wonder people are communicating via text messages these days. Everyone is deaf. Unfortunately, the music playing inside was also blasting outside, where it competed with the roar of the Harley’s starting up from the stop lights at Goerke’s Corners. So much for ambiance.

While The Man Who, I forgot to tell you, Is Fond Of Margaritas, drank a one of those ($4.50), I ordered a glass of Sangiovese wine from Jose’s petit wine list. It was actually very nice and, for $8, the volume of the pour did more than just dampen the bottom of the wine glass.

Jose’s lengthy menu sounds Mexican enough, but the food is only nominally so. I had the seafood burritos ($12.95), which said they came with a chipotle cream sauce, but tasted like nothing but melted butter. The rice and beans were also lacking herbs or spices, or flavor, actually. The Big Beef Man I Was With had a ground beef chimichanga ($8.95), and even The Man Who Is Not Critical Of Food Made With Red Meat So Long As It Contains No Funky Ingredients, said it was "boring". Wow! Since one of my many readers requested that I review desserts, we split an order of flan. Another Neighbor And Her Date Who Is Also From The ‘Hood stopped to visit with us and shared a spoonful of flan. We all agreed it was delicious – rich and smooth, with a light caramel sauce.

May I compare a similar meal we recently had at Ruby Isle’s current Mexican restaurant, Fiesta Garibaldi? This is also a locally owned restaurant, as is Jose’s. Though Garibaldi’s red wine was pretty pathetic, the meal cost less than Jose’s and the food was far superior. They spared no crustaceans in my crab enchilada ($9.95) and The Man commented favorably on his beef burrito, both served with a nicely spiced red sauce.

My advice? Wearing earplugs, go to Jose’s for a glass of Sangiovese wine. Next time I would try Jose’s made-at-your-table guacamole. Then drive to Ruby Isle and have a real Mexican meal at Fiesta Garabaldi. You’ll be too full to have dessert that evening, but another night you might want to go out for flan at Jose’s.

RECIPES & RAFFIA

Today I took most of my spice collection to the temporary storage dump in our basement rec room. How many spice jars would you guess you have? I had 87. I stored 65 jars for future use, pitched 8-with-no-smell-left in the garbage, and kept out 14 that I might use before Sept. Of course I've packed away all my cake pans and tart pans and cookie sheets. So in what am I going to use nutmeg?

By the way, I kept the Beau Monde seasoning, since one of my many readers gave us a recipe for the stuff.

I’ve always been a recipe nut. I used to read cookbooks while soaking in the bathtub. Really. A year or two ago I did a minor sort-job and gave away 128 cookbooks. The Man Who Doesn’t Know A Grapefruit Knife From A Melon-Baller, said, "NOW what are we going to eat?" To which I replied, "Not to worry; I kept 75." Heaven knows what for; I now buy cooked chickens at Grasch’s. Is that pathetic, or what?

Anyway, I’m into sorting through the recipe files now. Will I ever make "Almond Potato Puff Casserole?" How about "Baked Chicken and Rhubarb?" YUK! I actually cut that out of a newspaper and saved it. I have recipes from my vegetarian phase and my low-fat phase and my Weight-Watchers’ phase and my South Beach phase.

Since I’m now in my ‘Drink-Wine-And-Eat-Cheese’ phase, very few recipes are required. I think I'll store the scale too.

Signed:
Almost Kitchenless in Brookfield

PS: If you know anyone in Our Fair City who needs a perfectly good, 21 cu ft white Amana refrigerator with a top freezer and ice maker ($150) and a great gas stove ($75) that makes amazing bread (if kneading is your thing), I will have them for sale after Sept 5th.

PPS: Our 4 ½ year old grandson is coming tomorrow for a couple of days. His mom, our daughter, is a potter in Virginia and has a craft show in Evanston this weekend. (You can see her gorgeous work at www.suzannecrane.com). As I have NO art or craft talent, she must have inherited her artistic ability from The Engineer Who Can Draw Anything From Buildings To Buffalos. Just to give you an idea of how craft-challenged I am, I was asked to buy some raffia for the Waukesha County Land Conservancy’s Gala Party coming up this Friday evening. I am president of this organization, but, thank goodness, not in charge of any part of this party. I had volunteered to make price tags for the centerpieces. Easy enough, I figured, as long as I have a computer and a printer. Then the Party Committee decided I should tie these tags on with raffia. Now, I’ve heard of raffia, but I had no idea what it was. Truly. I assumed it was some kind of ribbon. I went to Michael’s Craft Store, a huge place on Bluemound Road, in which I discovered miles of ribbons. I walked up and down aisles and more aisles of ribbons, reading labels, searching for something called "raffia." Finally I had to ask a clerk to please show me where the raffia is. When the clerk pointed it out to me, I declared, "Oh, THAT stuff!" Which probably gave away the fact that I was not a regular customer of this shop.

LEGACIES AND SHOTS

I know, I know; I missed a day. Get over it. I have a life – occasionally.

Yesterday I took a trip to The East Side to Legacies, a fabulous resale shop in Fox Point. A few items I’m unearthing in my kitchen packing process may have enough value to someone to be worth carting them across town. Like the large aqua bowl that appeared from behind the 47-year-old, wedding-present casserole dishes. The numerous casseroles go to Good Will, but I get a kick out of seeing if I have anything that is actually saleable. For instance, in a box in my basement storage dump was a total stranger’s baptismal certificate from 1846 that was framed in an elaborate old frame. I have no idea why this was in my basement, but perhaps someone would find this item collectible. The cool thing is that Legacies does not handle junk. They call them "antiques and collectibles". As I am a collector of nothing, I need their expertise. Like the Antiques Road Show, I drop off my stuff, they look up the value of each item, but Legacies puts it up for sale in their store. They have Spode china and Stickley furniture, jewelry, artwork and stuff people picked up on trips to foreign places. As I know the value of nothing, I take it to Legacies. If my stuff doesn’t sell in a month, they reduce the price. After 3 months, they donate my unsaleable stuff to the Good Will. Once a month, they send me a check for anything that sold - minus their commission.

Sure beats rummage sales, if you ask me. But you didn’t.

After the trip to Legacies, I met The Man With Whom I Love To Travel Even If He Does Have Funky Food Issues at the Froedert Hospital Travel Clinic to get our malaria pills and hepatitis shots for our upcoming vacation to South Africa in October. I’ve not mentioned here that we will miss 2 ½ weeks of our demolished kitchen while we are searching out lions and giraffes. Those of you who have bet on my final restaurant destination have my permission to change your guess based on this new information.

The Kitchen Demolition Guy came today with Bill, The Kitchen Project-Manager Guy to discuss exactly which walls come out, how much flooring to remove and just exactly what is beneath that carpeting. Not much, if I recall. But -- I probably don’t...

It’s getting closer now. Two weeks plus Labor Day weekend till demolition. Restaurant reviews begin then. As Wisconsin is having a temporary autumnal break in the weather, I want to putz (that’s another word for deadhead and stake tipped over plants) in my garden this weekend. When it gets hot again next week I will go back to packing baking pans in boxes and taking some to Good Will. I just counted: I own 22 bread pans. For a short period of time, I sold homemade bread, an activity that I am highly unlikely to take up again. (My children grew up; I have a life. Now I pack boxes.)

Soon to be
Kitchenless in Brookfield

LOVE YOUR COMMENTS

I love that some of you are commenting, either here on my blog or on my email. It’s lonely navel-gazing alone. I understand that to leave a comment on the blog, you have to sign up. This will not cost you anything. My understanding is that it is Google’s way of monitoring responses so my blog is not filled with trash from strangers. Just trash from me, my friends and family.

Response to some of your comments: Fay, we will call you when we get to Yokoso Restaurant. I’d never heard of it till you commented on it favorably. We’ve been to Japan, where The Man Who Considers Most Food Too Funky To Ingest, was somewhat challenged not to starve. He finally made himself a rule that he’d eat anything that didn’t look at him: that is, no eyes. So sushi became possible. I know he wouldn’t normally choose Japanese cuisine here, but he accepts that this isn’t a choice. Besides, he’d go anywhere to eat with Fay and Fay’s Man.

Clarification of The Rules: if the restaurant has a driveway off of Bluemound Road and can be seen from Bluemound, we will eat there – in order, going east, starting at Goerke’s Corners. With one exception – since I make the rules. We will not be eating at Chucky Cheese’s, unless one of you can convince me that you NEED my review of this noisy, children’s establishment. Unless we go while The Four Year Old Grandson is visiting. And the restaurants to be visited must serve full meals. So we are not required to eat at every ice cream parlor and coffee shop.

As we head down Bluemound, if any of you would like to join us in the next spot or one in the future, let me know. I’ll add anyone else’s opinions to the restaurant reviews – if you’ve eaten with us.

To Kate in Texas: I will live for weeks off your high praise of my writing. Thank you!

To Neighbors J & R: I’ve recorded your bet. Thank you too for the compliment.

Here’s my latest "recipe" for Sandy, who requested some:

Have you heard of Broncho Bob’s Raspberry Chipotle Sauce? It’s delicious. Can’t remember where I had it, but loved it and have been searching for it since. I found it, of all places, on Amazon. They just shipped me 3 bottles. Here’s the big recipe: pour it on cream cheese and spread the concoction on a cracker. Eat. Yummy!

When you stop over for wine on the deck while I’m sans kitchen, we’ll sample some, though it's probably even better with gin and tonics. Or those vodka martinis a neighbor has been teaching me to drink. I'm a slow learner; we may have to practice some more.

Still not
Kitchenless in Brookfield

A PRACTICE REVIEW

We didn’t eat dinner on Bluemound – yet. My kitchen still functions. But we did have frozen custard at Kopp’s. The Man Who Doesn’t Write But Likes To Kibbitz thought I should practice. "This is al fresco," he offered. "Yep", I agreed. The humidity was a clue. "What do you think of the ambiance?" I inquired. "My vast readership will want to know." "Overlooking a shopping center parking lot and illuminated by plastic signs," he noted. I think I’ll refer to that in future reviews as TBRA – Typical Bluemound Road Ambiance. Additionally, the table was gooey (that’s official restaurant-critic terminology).

Kopp’s dessert menu is not extensive – four flavors every day, two of which are chocolate and vanilla. But the quality of the custard makes up for that deficiency. Can anyone top Kopp’s flavors? Not in my opinion. I had a scoop of mocha chip custard, brimming with dark chocolate chunks in that creamy, yummy custard melting so fast (while dining al fresco in 81 degrees at 9 PM), I almost had to drink it. The Man Who Thinks Fat and Sugar Are The Basis Of The Food Pyramid had caramel cashew custard – 2 scoops, I might add – and didn’t feel the need to speak to me while savoring it. Obviously this flavor of frozen custard does not fall into his "funky" category of food.

This is only my opinion, but if you want vanilla frozen custard, go to Gilles’. I grew up (to the extent that I did) in Wauwatosa. I went to Hawthorne Junior High School, from which my girlfriends and I would walk to Gilles’ for dessert. I consider myself an expert at frozen custard. You want vanilla – and there’s nothing better – go to Gilles’. You want flavored custard – go to Kopp’s. (My Man asserts that I never allow lack of knowledge to stand in the way of having an opinion. So you might as well get used to it.)

Just so I could inform my readers, I checked out the ladies room. Whew. It was a hot, busy evening. There is no way that the help could keep up with the sticky kiddies washing body parts that one wouldn’t think they could get ice cream on. Toilet tissue was everywhere, and if you touched the button to turn on the hand dryer, you’d want to wash yourself again.

My recommendation: by all means eat a scoop of your favorite custard at Kopp’s. Unless you have small, sticky children, use your bathroom at home. You all know of course that Kopp’s has a web site on which you can check out the flavors of the day. I have a friend who never misses chocolate peanut butter chocolate. My opinion (again): peanut butter belongs in sandwiches.

PS: I have received the suggestion that I should ask for guesses (or bets) on how far east on Bluemound I will get before my kitchen is done. (Sometimes I will go out for breakfast or lunch with friends, which I will also count, if we eat in the next place on The Road.) Care to place your bet? Name the last restaurant I will eat in before the kitchen is done. Whoever is closest will be the first to join us for dinner in our new kitchen. The guy who suggested this thinks we’ll get to the stadium! YIKES! That’s a LOT of restaurant meals to be funded by The Man Whose Wallet Creaks When Forced Open.

Soon to be
Kitchenless in Brookfield

Bun and Thigh Machine

This message is really not about edible stuff, like rolls and chicken legs. It's about a piece of exercise equipment in my basement in a box I need for packing kitchen stuff. Really. I actually own a Bun and Thigh Machine. The wierd thing is that neither The Man Who Plays Tennis For Exercise nor I have a clue how it came to be in our house.

The mystery began a number of years ago, when it appeared on our doorstep. I said, "Did you order this thing?" "No," The Man asserted, "You must have." "What kind of masochist do you think I am? I wouldn't order such a thing," I insisted. I had no recollection of ordering a Bun and Thigh Machine. And then.... Well, maybe a faint recollection... Late one night, during an insomnia attack, maybe, just maybe, I just might have seen something on the internet... Anyway, now it's years later, and the padded metal monster is still in its box in our basement storage dump.

As I said, I needed the box, so I opened it. Inside is a receipt showing some sucker, using my credit card, paid $89 for this supposedly amazing Bun and Thigh Machine. I wondered aloud why we didn't return it. So The Tightwad Who Wants To Nag Me About Buying Stuff I Don't Use went on line and found one today at WalMart for $29. "Put it together and I'll use it," I assured him.

The problem with My Man is that he will actually DO what I ask. He put the darned thing together. I read the instructions. That's when I noticed that you have to sit on the floor to operate it. With my bum knee, up and down from the floor itself is a challenge. But there was NO WAY I wasn't going to use that sucker. With a great show of painful effort, I got down and rocked my buns and rocked my thighs a few times, while The Man read, "It says you only have to do it five minutes a day." FIVE minutes! Fortunately for me (and for our marraige), his scheduled tennis game tonight took him -- and his wrist watch -- out of my house after about 30 excruciating seconds.

Some odd kettles, an omelet pan, a waffle iron, an asparagus steamer, now occupy The Bun Box.

Still not
Kitchenless in Brookfield

PS: I added a couple of photos of my kitchen as it looks today. I didn't figure out how to add them to this posting, so you can see them next to yesterday's blather.

YOU'RE ACTUALLY READING THIS!

What do you know? Some of you are reading this blather. And commenting. What fun! Can you read each others comments? I hope so. So far someone has requested that I not forget to review desserts. There’s a great excuse to eat fat and carbs. Thanks! Someone else asked that I review the "best al fresco dining on Bluemound". 1) Unless the humidity lets up soon, I’m not paying to eat and sweat at the same time, and 2) can there be decent outdoor dining overlooking the parking lots and traffic of Bluemound Road? But I will check it out at each spot and add that to my review. Maybe I can get The Man Who Prefers Diet Pepsi To Any Alcoholic Beverage to actually sit outside with me while I enjoy a glass of pre-dining wine.

My Daughter Who Eats Out More Than Home asked that I include a recipe now and then. Recipe? I plan to eat out as often as it is possible to get The Tightwad Who Finally Agreed To A New Kitchen to open his wallet. Perhaps she is referring to recipes for dishes I am able to create in our sunroom, with no stove, dishwasher, sink, etc. Those recipes would probably fit that daughter’s lifestyle, so I will do so, if anything delicious happens, sans kitchen.

The kitchen packing continues. The need for boxes has forced a sorting of our basement storage dump. Out with the dolls and crafty stuff I saved for a granddaughter we never had. Out with the mildewed quilt my grandmother never finished. Those boxes are now filled with packages of dried beans, sixteen different shapes of dried pasta, several flavors of vinegar, in other words, ingredients I’m unlikely to need while kitchenless. Here’s a partial list of what didn’t make it into those boxes: A jar of A1 Steak Sauce that is no longer liquid, Kikhoman Memni -- whatever that is, 200 petit four cases with holly on them, Magic Salmon Seasoning (scarey), 2 containers of instant egg white powder for meringues (there’s a necessity of life), Creole Seasoning (doesn’t work in German-American stomachs), candied cherries dated 1988, Beau Monde seasoning. Does anyone know what you’d use Beau Monde seasoning for? I haven’t a clue.

One whole box was filled with cookie decorating stuff – sprinkles in every color, including a patriotic combo of red, white and blue sprinkles. I know you are thinking, "Why is this old babe keeping sprinkles? The minute my kids are gone, out go the sprinkles." Well, my children actually call The Man I Live With, their father, "The Christmas Munchkin." He loves everything about Christmas, including decorating oh-so-fancy cut-out cookies. In fact, that it is just about the ONLY thing resembling cooking he would be caught doing. Many of you have heard me tell that our only pre-marital agreement was his statement, "I just want you to know, the only thing I do with food is eat it." And, as I found out later, make lovely Christmas cut-out cookies. So I’ve kept the sprinkles.

Tonight’s dinner, cooked at home with a functioning kitchen, is a chicken salad from "Betty’s Best Bites" cookbook. Betty, whom some of you know, serves on the Waukesha County Park and Planning Commission with me, and is such a fabulous cook that she has her own published cookbook.

Still signed,
Not Yet Kitchenless in Brookfield

Pea Pod and Chicken Salad Oriental
1c. spiral macaroni
2 c. fresh pea pods, trimmed and blanched (that would be the tough part without a stove)
2 c. cubed, cooked chicken (no stove necessary if you live near Grasch’s, which has THE best roasted chickens anywhere)
½ c. sliced green onions
1 can sliced water chestnuts
½ c. mayonnaise (I used low fat – saving up for those desserts)
1 t. soy sauce (more, if you like -- I do)
salt to taste
1/4 t. pepper
1/8 t. powdered ginger
1 t. sherry (optional, but why not?)

Cook macaroni according to package. Drain and rinse in cold water. Combine cooked macaroni, pea pods, chicken, green onions and water chestnuts. In small bowl, blend mayonnaise, soy sauce, pepper, ginger and sherry. Pour over pea pod mixture. Mix well. Cover and refrigerate at least 3 hours. Yield: 4 servings. (To blanch trimmed pea pods, place in boiling water; cover and cook 1 minute. Immediately drain and rinse with cold water.) (Tough while kitchenless.)

Contemplating Kitchen Destruction

As most of our friends know, the kitchen in our 50's ranch house is finally going to be remodeled – that’s the good news. The bad news is that we will be without a kitchen for 6 weeks or so. No cabinets, no stove, no dishwasher, and worse – no sink. Not ideal conditions for gourmet meals. Or any meals, for that matter. SO...

I have decided that while my current supply of 85 cookbooks are in storage and the dust in the house is thick enough to create asthma in The Disgustingly Healthy Man I Live With, I will eat in every restaurant on Bluemound Road and then write a review of each restaurant on this blog. I will start at Goerke’s Corners and, trying a new restaurant for every meal that I eat out, move east until my new kitchen is done.

My restaurant reviews will include comments on the service, the price and value of the meals I eat, the quality of the food, the menu, the choice and price of wine (where it’s available, but I will also dine at George Web's) and the cleanliness of the women’s bathroom. I can’t judge the men’s bathrooms, and The Man With Whom I Will Share Most Of These Meals isn’t liable to notice.

I will order fish or seafood wherever possible, while The Man Who Believes That Anything Cooked With Mushrooms, Most Vegetables except Beans or Corn, or Meat That Isn’t Red – Is (and here I quote) "Funky", will order accordingly – hamburgers and spaghetti being his usual top picks. For those of you not living in Our Fair City, Bluemound Road is home to just about every chain restaurant currently in business, plus a smattering of locally owned places, many of them of an ethnic genre.

Kitchen demolition begins September 5th. Over the past 44 years I have created meals for one husband, two children, a cat, a dog and several guinea pigs with equipment that can still be found in this kitchen. I began packing up the contents of the16 cabinets and 9 drawers today. Why would anyone ever have needed a box of 100 parchment paper triangles for cake decorating? That’s enough frosting rosebuds for all of my family’s birthdays for the next 25 years. Will I ever again use the little ramekins in which to bake individual custards? Did I ever? Or the covered pottery crocks meant especially for onion soup? A vinegar cruet?

Ah, well... Back to the boxes. Oh, that reminds me. We’ve been very efficient at breaking up and recycling boxes from all the computer stuff ordered by The Computer Geek With Whom I Live. Suddenly I need more boxes to pack up dishes and kettles and wine glasses (of course not all of them. I’ll leave out a couple for you and I). If you’re in my neighborhood, please bring some boxes over, if you have extras. And share a glass of wine with me -- on the deck.

More soon from almost

Kitchenless in Brookfield