Pulling four pounds of chicken is more fun than you think

On Sunday, I set a new personal record - I cooked for seven solid hours. I consider this good practice for the marathon of food that will be this Thanksgiving, when I give it a go.

My goal for Sunday was to give our Swiss friends a taste of a Southern Fourth of July (as close as I could get without an actual grill) and a couple of our local American friends an always-welcome taste of home. The first step was to get groceries - this took about three separate trips, since I have to be able to carry everything home by myself. Then I started prep work on Saturday. I hard boiled a dozen eggs and soaked then cooked a kilogram of dried beans (that turns into five pounds of cooked beans, in case you were wondering.)I chopped a couple things that wouldn't brown and made my Ambrosia Salad, since it gets better as it sits out. Now for the fun part - I proceed to grate almost a pound and a half of cheese by hand on my box grater. I see that it was good, and I rest.

The real work began at 10 in the morning on Sunday. Step one: poach and then shred 4 pounds of chicken breast. Poach in two batches. While poaching, begin browning bacon, onion, and garlic for baked beans. As browning happens, move on to batch two of chicken. Once chicken is all shredded, throw into gigantic heavy-bottomed pot and add a whole bottle of Jack Daniels BBQ sauce (from my stock of imported American delicacies) and then throw in half of a second bottle. Add a splash of ketchup, some molasses and dark brown sugar (also from my stock)and just a splash of cider vinegar. Cook on low for the next 5 hours. Mix up sauce for the baked beans and cook on low for the next five hours as well - this means I'm now down to two burners on the stove.

At this point, I'm feel hot and yucky from so much leaning over the stove and my arm is beginning to ache from stirring so much, so I move on to cooler tasks - deviled eggs. I made two different batches: one hot and spicy and the other with a hidden surprise - an olive underneath all the gooey yolk-tasticness. I got the recipes from one of my favorite cookbooks ever. Seriously, if you like deviled eggs, PLEASE buy this book. I've now made five different recipes and they've ranged from fantastic (springtime herb eggs) to sublime (spinach and bacon eggs - these almost made me cry). Once eggs were done and in the fridge, it was time to drag out ye olde box grater once again for some coleslaw-makin'. I grated a whole head of cabbage, a carrot, and cried my way through an onion. I should also mention that all this kitchen work was made much more fun by the slew of NPR podcasts I downloaded to keep me entertained while I cooked. One episode of radio goodness later and I'm sliding a bowl of fresh coleslaw into the rapidly-filling fridge.

Honestly, at this point, everything is starting to become a blur. I'm a clean-as-you-go cook and it was even more important to do so for this meal as I don't own enough big pots, pans, and mixing bowls for a meal of this size without using and reusing. All this cleaning means my fingers were completely pruned up by about four in the afternoon - this was a boon as it meant when I nicked myself with a paring knife or with my guillotine..sorry... mandolin (both of which happened) I didn't bleed at all! At some point I made a big batch of bourbon iced tea from Everyday Food magazine that was a huge hit.

Now that I think of it, ours was a very Martha meal (except I bet she's never run out of mixing bowls). My coleslaw recipe, macaroni and cheese recipe (cheddar, gruyere, and tilsiter cheese for me), drink recipe, and baked bean recipe (sauce section only) were all from various Martha publications.

Happy 4th!

Happy Fourth of July! Tiny Playmobil Guy is asking you all(ya'll) to briefly lower your weapons and raise high your burgers and dogs in thanks to all our buddies in the military (past and present) who do so much for us. (I know I know - we're not all this heavily armed or thin. It's just that my Playmobil collection is still pretty limited, so this is the best pre-party reenactment you're going to get. Personally, I was just excited I had a little guy with a "4" on his shirt!)

Due to various scheduling conflicts, we won't be having a party today (the 4th) or tomorrow (the 5th) however on the 6th we'll finally get around to celebrating the fourth American-style! We're going to be having friends and a couple of Mr K's coworkers over for dinner and games. I have my menu picked out and about half my grocery shopping done. In the interest of keeping it a surprise for any locals who might be reading this, I'll wait to post the menu til Monday or so (not that anyone reading this cares - I saw the ZERO votes for food writing and recipes) but suffice to say I'll be spending almost all of tomorrow cooking - hurrah!

Back when I was an obnoxious little teenage (nothing personal against me - all teenagers are obnoxious at some point, right dad) Miz K living in Tennessee, the highlight of every Fourth of July was the neighborhood Pig Roast - a yearly tradition big enough to dictate tee-shirts be printed and distributed before the big event. The event centered around an entire pig (approximately obnoxious-teenager sized) slow-cooked for upwards of 24 hours in a humongous grill rented specially for the occasion. While all the men-folk were tending the pig (read: guzzling beer while sitting or standing near the pig), all the mamas in the neighborhood were busily putting together a mountain of side dishes: casseroles, salads, sauces, desserts.

One of the hardest parts of the Big Pig Roast was the wait for the now-cooked pig to be pulled apart and served (for those not in the know, you pull the pig apart, dress it with BBQ or just its own juice, and serve it on a bun). The kids, like small sticky vultures, would get as close to the growing mountain of pork as possible, snatching pieces of meat whenever we thought we could get away with it, and burning our mouths and fingers in the process, our eyes watering as we denied any porcine theft. Meanwhile, the neighborhood dogs were underfoot, fighting over the singed but still curly tail and crispy ears that had been cut off the pig especially for them.

Without fail, even after we gorged ourselves beyond reason (USA!USA!) there would still be a pile of pig left over in addition to multitude tins, pans and bowls still half-full of mac and cheese, baked beans, seven layer salad, ambrosia, and chunks of watermelon. The dogs would be passed out under the tables and chairs and most of the people would be in almost the same state.

I've never lived in a neighborhood quite as close-knit as that one since we left Tennessee (though my parents' current neighborhood sounds pretty close) but I hope someday to be able to organize that kind of feast on my own. What Fourth of July memories do you have?

Catch-up Bloggin' - Sunday

Puppets
Originally uploaded by Arsmor

On Sunday, Mr K and I had planned to go to Murten to have a little picnic and play around and in the lake, however Mr K turned out to be on call and we had to stick a little closer to his computer(s). We spent a lazy morning in before heading out for a little walk and to feed some bread ends I've been saving to the ducks.

Mr K got some really amazing pictures of Fribourg as we walked around - you should definitely give them a look! It was nice and warm out, but we weren't too concerned about the sun as we planned to only be out for a few minutes. On the way, we happened upon the Swiss Puppetry Museum, which seems to only be open for a few hours on Saturdays and Sundays. Excited to be there at the right time, we paid our five francs each and headed in.

The museum was small but very interesting - I had no idea there were so many different kinds of puppets. We saw several shadow puppets as well as glove puppets and thread puppets. Some were very funny and some were serious, some were morbid, and some were amazingly ornate works of art.

After the museum, we made our way back out into the sunlight and headed down to the river to search for ducks. As we walked along, the urge to wade became too much and we spent a good hour stomping around in the river. the water was ice-cold and wonderful. We saw an armada of baby ducks and watched them fight with some fish over our bread crusts. At some point I noticed my shoulders were sizzling, so we made our way out of the water and made a bee-line for the funicular. We made one more stop to grab some Chinese (too hot to cook) and headed back into the cool darkness of the apartment.

Catch-up Bloggin' - Saturday

Alphorns
Originally uploaded by Arsmor

Bonjour, y'all! I'm a few days behind here, so let's try and catch up a bit!

On Saturday, Mr K and I headed to Lucerne to join what turned out to be about 349,998 other people to enjoy the Yodeling Festival, which takes place once every three years. The weather was beautiful and sunny, if a bit warm. This was our first trip to Lucerne as well - we'll have to make a return trip during a non-festival weekend to see what else there is to see.

The train ride took around an hour and a half - plenty of time to enjoy our tasty mozzarella sandwiches and the scenery. The train got busier as we went along, with several people in their yodeling garb boarding at each stop. The train was packed by the time it arrived at the station - but that was just the beginning. The station itself was chaos and it just got more and more crowded as we got out into the festival area.

A large portion of the crowd was dressed up, which was really fun to see. Some of the women had the cutest little flat straw hats that I just loved, so when I found a stall selling them, naturally I had to have one of my own. A quick glance at the 200 CHF price tag took care of that problem and instead we had a couple cold drinks and relaxed in the shade.

All in all, we spent a good five hours walking around, listening to the yodeling and people-watching. Five hours in the heat left us pretty tired, so we grabbed some gyros from a stand near the train station and caught the next ride back to Fribourg to nurse our sunburns. Halfway through the day, we found the sunscreen girls - a few girls with giant bottles of sunscreen who would give you a palmful of free lotion but didn't volunteer to apply it for you (maybe our French just isn't good enough yet) - but by that point we had both gotten a bit of pink to our faces, arms, and necks (yee haw) and were past the point suncreen would help and our only choice was to get out of the sun.

Sounds interesting? Next festival in is 2011 in Interlaken!

Friday Fill-in Fun

Looks like it's time for another set of Friday Fill-ins! Please entertain me and play along in the comments or in your own blog! My additions are in bold (not blood as I had originally typo-ed it...)


1. Birthdays are kind of overrated - especially as you get older - then again, it's hard to complain about an excuse to eat cake.

2. Fall is my favorite season because the heat of summer is fading while the leaves are brightening and the air outside smells so complex and rich.

3. I feel my best when I'm painting and it's going well enough that I've lost track of time.

4. There is no way I could choose one item and declare that it is my favorite food!

5. First impressions are just as important as people say but still no excuse to drive yourself crazy with worry.

6. The best piece of advice I ever received was probably from my mom or dad and is now so deeply ingrained in my psyche that I can't separate it from my actions.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to going to jui jitsu and dodging sweat, tomorrow my plans include seeing the yodelers in Lucerne unless we get lazy and Sunday, I want to get really lazy!

Wanted: A New Excuse

It finally happened - the moment I've been craving since we arrived. I got a desk for my office. Hurrah! I've been doing all my writing sitting on my futon with my computer on a tray on my lap and, as you would expect, wondering from where I had acquired my sudden-onset and unending back pain. I now have a nice big desk for crafting, typing and painting... which leads me to a new problem.

I need a new excuse to do continue to accomplish none of those things. I've been telling myself for months that once I had a desk, I would be writing for a couple hours a day before moving on to the paintings for my still unfinished squid book. Now, thanks to a trip to IKEA, (thanks Olivier and Celia)I have my desk - so now what? Sadly, the desk didn't come with a stack of completed paintings and a stellar manuscript with a "insert your name here" blank on the cover.

The good news is I have felt a bit more like writing and what-not, now that it's comfortable to do so for more than 15 minutes at a time. I've been rereading several of my books for writers and another problem I keep hitting is my own lack of discipline. Without fail, each book I've seen recommends an aspiring writer to cut out a specific chunk of time in their day to write - same write time, same write place. I haven't yet figured out what times are good for me, so each day I say "I"ll work from A to B and then when A rolls around, I remember oh-so-many other things that need to be done. I'm thinking this is part of the artistic process, right? Riiight - ok, so maybe not.

You know what is another great way to procrastinate? Blogging...

Who who whoooo's a night owl?

Valais by Night
Originally uploaded by Arsmor

Ok - the votes are in (though voting is still open for a couple more days if you haven't expressed a preference yet) and it looks like at least half of you enjoy reading things I write about myself - you bunch of voyeurs! In my desire to please all the people all the time here's another entry for the "stuff about me" category (lucky for you this mindset brings enough neuroses with it that you won't be suffering from a lack of reading material anytime soon).

I am a night owl's night owl. Right now as I write this, it is approaching three in the morning here and I'm not even close to being ready to go to sleep. Staying up this late on my own has gotten to be something of a luxury as of late. I go to bed most nights for companionship or because I feel like I'm supposed to - I can't remember the last time I went to bed (for the night - naps are not included in this) because I was tired and ready to sleep. At midnight, I'm just starting to get my brain and hands loosened up and the words and pictures are just starting to come out, but most days I force myself to go to bed around midnight because I get up when Mr K does at 7:30 and "everybody knows" I have to get some sleep.

What this means for me is my most productive hours are spent tossing and turning in bed, trying to talk myself into falling asleep. Some nights I hash out stories, letters, pictures, and blog posts, always intending to get them down on paper/screen the next morning but by the time I wake up (which I do poorly and very slowly) these images are usually gone. Sometimes I'll scribble down a tangle of notes to try and decipher the next morning - I usually write these in the dark and, as my handwriting is nearly impossible to read when I'm doing my best to be neat, in the morning I can't decipher a word of it. For all I know, in the past couple years I've found and lost the meaning of life, the nature of the universe and a couple hot stock tips - I'll never know.

Most of my best ideas come to me late at night, however I'm also one of those 3:00 AM crisis types. You know the type - in fact, you may be the type. Without fail, the clock hits three in the morning or so and my brain does some kind of crisis data-dump and decides to run through all possible worst-case scenarios, ranging from "what if I have no money in my bank next time I try to buy some I-tunes" to "what does it say about me as a person that my biological clock runs a bit slow - if at all" - it goes downhill from there. Existential crisis as a luge.

Ignoring that bit, in general I find staying up to all hours to be a mostly positive experience that I really enjoy. For me, sitting in the living room and feeling the breeze blowing in off the porch as it slides across my back is bliss. Listening to the fevered tapping of my sloppy hunt-and-peck typing in an otherwise unbroken silence is bliss. Being the only one awake gives me time to pay attention to all the little details I would otherwise miss due to the distractions that come with daylight and other people.

On a semi-side note, you know what else is bliss? Sitting on the floor in the kitchen, lit only by the light from the fridge, eating a bite or two of whatever leftover or other treat looks good. I'm pretty convinced food tastes best late at night, eaten in the kitchen, though I don't know why this should be. In my most recently written and wretchedly abysmal novel (woo hoo!), I noticed as I wrote that the main character was always eating in the middle of the night - I went on for pages and pages about it. It seemed whenever I got stuck for an idea, she got hungry. Well, all my writing books do say "write what you know..."

I have plenty more to say about insomnia and all the things that I've found that don't cure it, but I'll save that for another day. Sleep tight and sweet dreams - I'll be along in a few.

"Always take a big bite
It's such a gorgeous sight
To see you eat in the middle of the night"
R. Smith