We have returned from our sojourn in Tennessee, and my uncle is feeling better and for the first time in three weeks, is going out of the critical care unit into a more regular hospital room. He is not fully recovered, but he is much, much better. I suspect that he will have a long row to hoe yet as he struggles towards health.
It is good to be home, with a cat on my lap, and in my kitchen, though I have to admit to not having had a chance to cook much of anything interesting yet.
I probably should have taken the camera with me; while visiting, I took over my aunt’s kitchen and whipped up puttanesca with a salad of roasted beets, pears and mixed greens with balsamic vinaigrette one night. Another night, I threw together Chicken and Portabello Marsala (the mushrooms were for my vegetarian cousin), roasted asparagus, and wild mushroom risotto with asiago cheese, and the last night we were there, I made a nice pasta primavera with chicken, asparagus, mushrooms and a light lemon cream sauce.
So, I kept busy.
Also, while we were there, we ate some fandamnedtastic southern food, which, of course, is what I grew up eating. And if I ate it every day now, I would be as big as my house–it is all so laden with pork fat that just looking at it makes my arteries want to jump out of my body and run away screaming, but boy, does it taste fine and dandy. I think my favorite meal out was at Linda’s Pic-a-Rib, where I had pulled braised pork sandwitched between two hoecakes (that is cornmeal pancakes for the uninitiated) that had been fried in bacon grease. That was delicious in a totally down-home, unpretentious way, but I am glad to be home.
I missed my kitties.
Oh, and that cat up above–that is Springheel Jack, also known as Jackanape, Jackster, Jackie, Jackal, Jackalope, ‘Nape, and Napester. He is a bizarro creature who is quite neurotic and skittish most of the time, but who has great fits of affection where he will swoop upon us and fling himself bodily against us and turn into a lump of purring fur. So, we pet him, and he is happy, until he starts twitching and then without warning, dashes away, and returns to his habit of skulking in the shadows and creeping under furniture.
I cannot explain him, but I do love him.
Now, I am off to go sign the papers that will close the deal on the sale of our old home, and to eat good Chinese food at Shangrila.
I will return to my regularly scheduled food blog entries in the next few days, after I get my bearings.
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