A Dish For The Back-To-School Potluck and A Comment About Love

 Egg, Bacon, and Leek Pie 

     
The school year has begun and many places have a potluck to convince parents to help with 
the various activities held throughout the year. Since there is a natural competition especially
between mothers this is not the time to bring bean dip or take-out from the Whole Foods 
Market.  You can have everyone raving with this simple Irish pie from County Clare. Make
a second one for home use and serve it with a nice Syrah.

6 Servings

1 refrigerated piecrust (half of 15-ounce package), room temperature

1 teaspoon all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter

2 cups chopped leeks (white and pale green parts only)

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

6 slices bacon, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

3 large eggs

2/3 cup whipping cream

1/3 cup milk

1/4 teaspoon salt and pepper

1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg

    Procedure needs to be followed at all times. The first step is to open the wine bottle 

and pour a glass. Now, you are ready to begin

      Preheat oven to 425F. Pierce crust bottom all over with fork. Bake until pale golden, 

about10 minutes. Set aside. Reduce oven temperature to 400°F.

     Melt 2 tablespoons butter in heavy, medium skillet over medium heat. Add leeks and 

parsley; sauté until beginning to soften, about 3 minutes. Spoon mixture into crust. Cook 

bacon in the same skillet until crisp. Using a slotted spoon, transfer bacon to paper towels and 

drain. Sprinkle bacon over leeks.

     Beat eggs, cream, milk, salt, pepper, and nutmeg in small bowl to blend; pour into crust.

 Bake pie until filling is set in center, about 25 minutes.

 And now a lesson about love from my cats--Samantha and The Mitzer

We are most alive when we’re in love.

John Updike

Chapter 6

Love Is Overrated

It starts when we are teenagers. We see someone that we like, and we can’t think about anything else. Our bodies tingle when we see this person. We can’t sleep. Our thoughts only focus on this special one. We become jealous because this individual can’t spend every waking moment with us. Even though it may be just physical attraction, we proclaim from the rooftops that we are in love and then proceed to do crazy things. This condition may occur several times during our lifetime and it is always hard to overcome. What is this thing we call love?

Samantha needs to be loved. So, I’m sitting on my recliner and watching Jeopardy, totally relaxed with a glass of wine. All of a sudden, Samantha has to jump up and sit on my lap and purr very loudly. It’s so bad that when the Mitzer in sitting on my legs, Samantha will come and sit on my chest. Of course, when the commercial comes on, I decide to take a bathroom break, and I move the Mitzer to the couch without incident, but Samantha screams. This also happens when I’m sitting in my office chair—she has to jump up on my lap. At night, she has to sleep next to me. I sleep on my back and Samantha sleeps on my right side, facing the bottom of the bed. My hand sits on her back. It must be that she loves me dearly.

However, when I am not available during waking hours, she jumps up on my wife’s lap and the procedure is repeated. The cat always has to have someone touching her.

The thing we don’t understand is that when we have company—especially someone that doesn’t like cats—Samantha jumps into his or her lap. She acts like a cheap whore, and we are embarrassed. This behavior became so bad that we consulted an expert. The reason, it seems, is linked to another common cat behavior. When cats discover a new piece of furniture or enter a room for the first time, they will brush along the walls and go up, down, around, behind and underneath everything in sight. While the uninitiated might interpret this in-depth maneuvering as mere curiosity, the cat is actually marking its territory.

This territorial nature is also what drives cats to rub up against any and all visitors who enter their home. (They will also often go to the trouble of “reclaiming” their own people when they’ve been around other cats.) What might seem like a “welcoming home” ritual is, in reality, a way of making their owners and everyone else around them the cat’s personal property.

When I heard about this concept, I was devastated. I thought that Samantha and I had a very special relationship, but her affection was all about marking her property. We men are very aware that many women complain that their husbands treat them as objects, and so we take special precautions to keep this from happening. Now I know that is exactly how my cat feels about me. I don’t feel special anymore—I am just an object. However, my wife doesn’t feel this way. She is sure that Samantha is different from the other cats.

My wife has a strange view about love. On Monday night for two hours, she is glued to the television, watching The Bachelor or The Bachelorette. In these shows one woman (Bachelorette) or one man (Bachelor) has to whittle down a field of twenty-five men or women to find perfect love. For fourteen weeks we (not by choice, for me) watch as the main character reacts to persons of the opposite sex in some of the most romantic places in the world. The background music enhances the event, and at some point, the main character has kissed all of the contestants.

Finally, the group gets whittled down to the final four, and the production crews move to the hometowns of this group so that the main character can meet the families. There is a date, and the main character can take each of the four contestants into the fantasy suite where they spend the night without cameras. The main character then picks the perfect person, and at the last minute in some incredibly romantic place, the bachelor proposes to his future bride or the bachelorette accepts the proposal from the man that is left. The whole thing is so wonderful, and the chat boards are busy because everyone has an opinion about who should get the ring. This is a true affirmation that romantic love exists…until you look at the statistics.

There have been 19 seasons of The Bachelor and only two couples are still together. As for The Bachelorette, it has been on for ten seasons and only three couples are still together. This shows that something else was going on instead of true love.

My cats have the right idea: what looks like love may not be love at all. So, if you are a man and meet your “true love,” keep your wallet in your pocket until you are absolutely sure that it’s love.

Lean more about this  wonderful book.

A Summer Treat Plus A Little Advice

There's nothing like sitting on the deck with a nice Pinot eating Cerviche with Roasted Asparagus And Red Onion Quesadillas.  If a little humor is in order, then reading a chapter from Mellow Out--Lessons Learned from Household Cats would be great fun.

 Mexican Ceviche and  Roasted Asparagus And Red Onion Quesadillas 

This recipe comes from The Winning Certificate. The ceviche is made with scallops but halibut, red snapper, flounder, or swordfish can be substituted. The asparagus and red onion quesadilla is very easy to make and the Pinot Noir complements the spiciness of the lime cumin cream that is served with the quesadillas.

Ceviche

Serves 4 as a Luncheon or Supper Entree

1 pound bay scallops

8 limes, juiced

2 tomatoes, diced

1/2-cup onions, minced

1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil

1/8 cup chopped fresh cilantro

Rinse scallops and place in a medium sized bowl. Immerse the scallops in lime juice and chill all-day or overnight until scallops are opaque. 

Add tomatoes, onions, olive oil, and cilantro to the scallop mixture. Stir gently. Serve with tortilla chips.

I had to leave my guests alone with a large bowl of the ceviche and when I
returned, this was all that remained.

Asparagus And Red Onion Quesadillas

Serves 4 as a Luncheon or Supper Entree

1-pound asparagus, cut into 1/2-inch-thick slices.

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 large red onion, cut crosswise into 1/4-inch-thick slices and separated into rings

Eight 6- to 7-inch flour tortillas

1/2 pound pepper Jack cheese, coarsely shredded

1/4 cup finely chopped fresh coriander

1/2 cup sour cream

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon fresh lime juice

Preheat oven to 500°F. In a large shallow baking pan, toss onion with 1 1/2 teaspoons oil until coated well. Cook the onions and the chopped asparagus for 10 minutes shaking pans occasionally. Cook until tender and lightly browned,

Preheat broiler. Grease a large baking sheet and arrange 4 tortillas in one layer and divide vegetables, pepper Jack, and coriander among them. Cover quesadillas with remaining 4 tortillas. This can be done using two cookie sheets. Brush top tortillas with remaining 2 tablespoons oil and broil quesadillas about 3 inches from heat until golden brown, about 2 minutes. Turn quesadillas over and broil until golden brown, about 2 minutes.

Make Cumin Lime Cream while quesadillas broil. In a small bowl, whisk together the sour cream, cumin and lime juice. Cut quesadillas into wedges and serve with cumin lime cream.

I tried marijuana once. I did not inhale.

Bill Clinton

Chapter 5
No Guilt—Getting High Is Natural

The “do-gooders” want to restrict all of us from the pleasure gained from using drugs and drinking alcohol. They hover over us like parking officers waiting for the time to expire on the meter so they can issue a citation. In the San Francisco South Bay, there is a huge campaign during the December/January holidays called “Avoid the Thirteen.” Police agencies have teamed up to place roadblocks to ferret out drunken drivers. Along with this cooperation is a media blitz. In our small town, the headline in the local newspaper states, “Expect DUI saturation patrols on Friday.” The fear created is so bad than when someone sees a police car, panic sets in, even if that person hasn’t done anything. It’s a horrible way to live.

When the police catch someone under the influence, the cost is tremendous. Fines are paid to the court, fees are paid for education classes, interlock devices are installed, and the Department of Motor Vehicles has a fee for every step in the process. Plus, we continually see ads on television about the evil effects of drugs. These campaigns are relentless and are made to make people feel guilty. For me, it got so bad that when I had too much to drink in my own house, I felt guilty. Then I took a step back and watched the behavior of my cats. The guilt has gone away.

It’s springtime, and we make our annual pilgrimage to the nursery to buy seeds and seedlings for our garden. We buy tomatoes, lettuce, corn, zucchini, fava beans and eggplant. Of course, we can’t forget the cats, so we buy catnip seedlings.

Next comes the hard work of digging the holes, filling the space with planting mix and finally putting the seedlings in the ground. After we finish this arduous endeavor, we sprinkle the ground with water and then adjourn to the chairs on the deck to rest.

Samantha saunters up to the catnip and then goes about sniffing, licking, head shaking, body rolling and head and cheek rubbing as she partakes of the herb. Goodness, she is really putting one on. The effects usually last from about five to fifteen minutes.

After Samantha leaves, The Mitzer runs over to the catnip. Since the Mitzer is hyper, she can’t saunter up to anything—it’s always full speed ahead. She sniffs and rolls in the catnip. It’s like a marijuana or LSD-type response. Finally, when the Mitzer finishes, Chubby takes over and has the same experience. After getting “stoned,” the cats walk away and act perfectly normal. There is no remorse, no headaches, and no promises not to do this again.

The cats understand life, and they know that an altered state is just part of living. I used to have a difficult time with this concept, especially during the Christmas holidays. We buy and wrap presents, decorate the house and tree, attend lots of parties and spend forever finding the perfect picture for the Christmas card. Finally, Christmas comes, and it has been our tradition to have a themed buffet for family members and friends. We do this in the evening and the buffets have had Italian, Polish, Irish, Mexican, Greek and International themes.

I finish the cooking, put everything out and then pour myself a glass of wine. But not just any wine—my favorites are from the Santa Cruz Mountains. Some eighty small wineries produce wonderful Cabernets, Zinfandels, Pinots and a whole host of other reds and whites. I have talked to many of the winemakers; thus the wine is extra special.

The guests come, they eat and they talk, and I pour myself some more wine. Friends and extended family members open their Christmas presents, and I pour myself some more wine. Finally, the evening ends, and I pour another glass of wine.

The next morning, I wake up with a house in shambles and not feeling very well. In the past, I would have promised myself that I would never drink again. “Why did I get so drunk?” I would ask myself. “Why don’t I have more control?” I would feel guilty as hell. 

Internalizing the lesson I learned from my cats, this becomes the end of the story because I know it will happen again. My guilt is gone because I am modeling my cats’ behavior, and I have learned to enjoy the high, suffer the morning after, and then move on. Life has gotten tremendously better. I think I’ll have another glass of wine.