Pre-vacation update

For those of you who have been wondering, here is my slightly-tipsy update on what I've been doing and thinking lately, in list form.

- No matter how tasty, I can't eat an entire batch of smoked oyster risotto on my own, and the stuff is just not appealing the next day (or any day thereafter).

- Ice cream and sorbet is always good, even though some people may think otherwise.

- I know I'm not here to talk politics, but I'm somewhat enthused by McCain's choice of running mate. Really, though, I think either candidate would do better than the current president. That guy is just embarrassing.

So, I am intending to set up some post of wedding photos (borrowed from friends) for during the honeymoon. Hopefully that won't fall by the wayside during the packing tomorrow. Wish us luck (that we won't wind up in a hurricane)!

Like a butterfly

It is strange to watch my new come into being. Mrs. [new last name]. Picked up my marriage license today and then ambled my way over to the social security office.

"Hey," I said, "I'm changing my name."

"Alrighty," said they, "have a new card."

In a few days, I'll head down to the DMV to change the name on my driver's license. After that, I get to talk with various other places and get my passport replaced. The whole process really seems so uncoordinated and arbitrary for something so important and routine.

Still unemployed

The culinary adventures continue here at Chez A.

I finally managed to make some pepper jelly that was actually spicy, after a very disappointing first batch made with the recipe from the canning cookbook. Same recipe, but this time I left in some of the seeds, particularly those of the Thai peppers I used. The recipe makes about twice as much jelly as the book claims it should, which means I have all the more to share with slavering friends and family.

Ice cream creation continues unabated. Nutella ice cream met with rave reviews all around, and was even described as "the best thing I've had in a long time" by a friend of mine. Coconut ice cream was found to be delicious by the only coconut lover in the house (me), and recieved a passable review from my husband. Even though I was forced to use sweetened shredded coconut, as none of the supermarkets around me had unsweetened, it still turned out quite nicely.

R, although thrilled by my love of cooking, feels I have a knack for picking recipes that he won't like. Some of my recent trials have given more evidence to said theory. In my quest to use up an open bottle of red wine, I made barlotto with red with and mushrooms, a recipe from that risotto cookbook I am so fond of. R, being un-fond of mushrooms, took a rain check on that one. I also made romesco sauce (conveniently using ingredients I already had in the pantry, particularly a half bag of almonds I didn't know what to do with) and served it with cauliflower steaks. R tried it, but found the bell pepper flavor to be overwhelming, at it is something he isn't fond of. I suppose I will have to take these things into account when cooking for a family, as, without torturing R, I will want him to set a good example for the kids and eat a little of everything. No more portobello paninis then, I guess.

Bear necessities

My original plans for last Friday were to meet the famous Alyndabear, touring the world as is her style, but unfortunately she neglected to respond to my text message so that didn't pan out. Perhaps her phone fell in when she was on Splash Mountain. (Actually, she hasn't posted since. You're not dead, are you? I do worry when people visit L.A., as I find the place somewhat unpleasant.)

So, to soothe my bruised ego, I instead set about making some strawberry stracciatella ice cream (very tasty, by the way) and foraged for fruit in my backyard. I had realized the day before that my neighbor's cactus was a prickly pear when I saw that they new lobes it had grown were actually ripening fruit (so I was actually a little excited at this unexpected opportunity to try one that very day).

I ever so carefully plucked the fruit, grasping it with two fingers on the spaces in between the black spots, which are full of tiny spines. Even so, I managed to get a few stuck in my fingers. I took it inside and rubbed it with a paper towel to remove the spines and then washed it.

After cutting off the skin (and making sure there weren't any stickers waiting to stab my tongue) I tried a bite. The fruit had an interesting flavor, like a cross between a papaya and a pumpkin. Unfortunately, it was filled with many small seeds, meaning that each fruit only had a small amount of meat. Definitely a food of desperation.

Additionally, I found myself stabbed by small, near-invisible stickers throughout the rest of the day. As R hilariously kept reminding me, "Don't pick a prickly pear with a paw. When you pick a pear, gotta use the claw!" Yeah, I got it.

The plan for prickly pear jelly has since been scrapped.

Childhood drama

R and I were watching Animaniacs this evening (you know it's awesome) when a segment containing the character Katie Ka-Boom came on. Oddly enough, the harmless short made me cringe. I suppose this was due more to the associated memories and emotions than the cartoon itself. You see, my family used to watch Animaniacs together, and Katie Ka-Boom was my mom's favorite character. She thought Katie's temper was a hilarious parody of teenage behavior, and would often repeat Katie's catchphrase when my sister and I were upset. "I'm not overreacting - I'm a teenager!"

I think what bothers me most about this whole situation is that my mom didn't really know my sister and me when we were teenagers. My sister started to live full-time with my dad early in 6th grade (a little before she turned 12). I did the 1-week-at-one-house-1-week-at-the-other thing from 14 to 15.5, after which I started living full-time with my dad. My mom saw us maybe once a month. Less, after she called the police on me for refusing to go to church.

Now, this is all ancient history. When I started this blog, I specifically told myself I wasn't going to use it as a forum to bitch about my mother. Why am I bringing this up now? The answer is simple: kids, specifically my plans to have them shortly. Even though we're so very different, I'm afraid I'm going to turn into my mother. More specifically, I'm afraid my relationship with my kids will be like mine and my mother's. None of this is helped by R's conviction that we're going to have daughters.

This is probably how my dad felt when my mom was trying to convince him to have kids. My dad's blood-father bailed on my grandma when my dad was 3. He had a step-dad from 9 to 19 (his "10 year dad," as he refers to him), but the guy was a traveling salesman who was often gone and was exhausted when he was home. My dad wasn't really sure how one was supposed to act as a father.

In the end, I suppose I will muddle through. My dad certainly did. Instead of repeating my mom's mistakes, I'm sure I will make different ones. There certainly are daughters out there who have good relationships with their mothers. Perhaps I'll do okay.