I'm taking advantage of the upcoming "holiday" (I put that in quotes because I'm not so sure Halloween is necessarily worth having true holiday status but that's my personal bias and may have something to do with all the frightening cat imagery. Maybe not, but I've never been a big fan of Halloween)...anyway, I am using Halloween to provide an enticing and clever-ish blog post title for a post about a couple of garlicky recipes that I love.
I just made this one last night and I am telling you, if you like garlic, Make. This. Now! It is DELICIOUS. Have you ever had cream of garlic soup? I hadn't until I came across this recipe. Yum! I did not take pictures throughout my cooking prep because I don't own an extra special camera nor do I possess very good camera skills. And while those are perfectly valid excuses, I also did not take pictures due to the fact that while I'm cooking, I'm generally very eager to get to the whole eating part of the scenario. And also if you check out the link you'll see pictures and the recipe, why duplicate efforts right? If I do another food/recipe post, I'll attempt to take pictures and then you can all laugh at said attempt.
I've made this next one for a couple of years now and every time I put in it on the table Matt and I toss around the phrase "restaurant-quality" throughout the meal. It builds my self-esteem for sure. I'm referring to these sour cream garlic mashed potatoes. So make them, enjoy them, and feel better about yourself. If you don't have white pepper in your cabinet, get some, don't omit it. The white pepper is good!
So if you want to wow your guests with some garlicky deliciousness and be assured that they will keep one another at a distance (that was a bad breath joke), these are the recipes for you. And my thinking is that with Halloween approaching, under the guise of keeping vampires away, you could probably make and serve both things. I wouldn't typically advise two garlicky dishes in the same meal but you could swing it during a Halloween party, no? Anyway, Halloween or not, wooden stakes or not, eat these things! You won't be sorry, unless of course you're a vampire. Muhahaha.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Confessions of a Scaredy Cat
Allow me to preface this with the following: I have some issues with animals. My greatest concern is the unpredictability factor, especially animals I'm unfamiliar with. This concern has increased since having children. I know, I know; people are unpredictable too, those with serious mental illnesses even more so and I was a mental health therapist to addicted, mentally-ill criminals so what's my hang-up? I'm not sure, but for some reason I have a level of discomfort around animals I don't know.
And here's the part where I confess that I left my kid on the porch with a stray cat. A one-eyed stray cat. Because I was skeeerd! This time last year, Caleb went out onto the front porch one morning before I caught up to accompany him. Within seconds I hear his little, fear-filled voice calling out to me. I peek outside to see Caleb standing in the corner, backed up against the house. I survey the area to determine what's causing him to cower. I spot the gray tabby. He's thin and tough-looking with a missing eye. The thing freaked me out. Of course a pet-less little 2-year old would be frightened. Instead of my inner mama bear jumping into action, I quickly closed the storm -door and called Matt to come rescue our son. And he did, he stepped outside all brave-like, scooped Caleb up, and came inside. My hero! He laughed at me and poked fun at me for being afraid.
Since that experience, I've eluded that particular cat more than once in a bit of a scared frenzy. He really has never done anything threatening. I'm just a wimp. I envision it going all crazy on me and flying at my face or something. I dunno. Speaking of mental problems...
Then the other night after a run to the grocery store, I park my car out front and go to step out. I place one foot out and spot this black and white cat. I've never seen this one before. I've come to recognize most of the strays in the neighborhood (what happened to spaying and neutering??). I stopped dead. I got chills. Now I am sounding really crazy. I probably shouldn't be sharing this. I yanked my foot back in the car! Then I did what any sane person would do, I called my husband who was inside. I asked him to come "rescue me from this cat." He laughs at me. I tell him to "hurry up!" The cat slinks away so I consider myself safe. No sign of Matt yet (seriously?! What is taking him so long?) but I decide to get out of the car. I start up the walkway and bounding out of the darkness comes the cat. With hands full of bags and car door shut, I'm committed now. I act casual as I walk up the stairs. I know animals can smell fear so I'm trying to squelch mine. I walk briskly up the stairs and onto our porch, simultaneously willing the cat not to rub against my legs **shudder** and Matt to come to the door. The cat is circling the porch rocking chairs, eyeing my shins.
Finally! Matt is at the door, I yell something to him about not coming quickly enough and demand that he open the door "right now!" He does and I hurry into the house. He looks at me, perplexed by my irrationality, and then he glances at the fluffy black and white kitty on the porch. He laughs. Again. I try to explain my fear but I just sound kooky. Matt assures me that a) the cat is most likely friendly, b) if the cat were not friendly, I could easily overpower it and protect myself, c) "He's not a stray, house cats roam the neighborhood," and d) it's "nice" when cats rub against your legs. Hm...agree to disagree on all accounts.
And here's the part where I confess that I left my kid on the porch with a stray cat. A one-eyed stray cat. Because I was skeeerd! This time last year, Caleb went out onto the front porch one morning before I caught up to accompany him. Within seconds I hear his little, fear-filled voice calling out to me. I peek outside to see Caleb standing in the corner, backed up against the house. I survey the area to determine what's causing him to cower. I spot the gray tabby. He's thin and tough-looking with a missing eye. The thing freaked me out. Of course a pet-less little 2-year old would be frightened. Instead of my inner mama bear jumping into action, I quickly closed the storm -door and called Matt to come rescue our son. And he did, he stepped outside all brave-like, scooped Caleb up, and came inside. My hero! He laughed at me and poked fun at me for being afraid.
Since that experience, I've eluded that particular cat more than once in a bit of a scared frenzy. He really has never done anything threatening. I'm just a wimp. I envision it going all crazy on me and flying at my face or something. I dunno. Speaking of mental problems...
Then the other night after a run to the grocery store, I park my car out front and go to step out. I place one foot out and spot this black and white cat. I've never seen this one before. I've come to recognize most of the strays in the neighborhood (what happened to spaying and neutering??). I stopped dead. I got chills. Now I am sounding really crazy. I probably shouldn't be sharing this. I yanked my foot back in the car! Then I did what any sane person would do, I called my husband who was inside. I asked him to come "rescue me from this cat." He laughs at me. I tell him to "hurry up!" The cat slinks away so I consider myself safe. No sign of Matt yet (seriously?! What is taking him so long?) but I decide to get out of the car. I start up the walkway and bounding out of the darkness comes the cat. With hands full of bags and car door shut, I'm committed now. I act casual as I walk up the stairs. I know animals can smell fear so I'm trying to squelch mine. I walk briskly up the stairs and onto our porch, simultaneously willing the cat not to rub against my legs **shudder** and Matt to come to the door. The cat is circling the porch rocking chairs, eyeing my shins.
Finally! Matt is at the door, I yell something to him about not coming quickly enough and demand that he open the door "right now!" He does and I hurry into the house. He looks at me, perplexed by my irrationality, and then he glances at the fluffy black and white kitty on the porch. He laughs. Again. I try to explain my fear but I just sound kooky. Matt assures me that a) the cat is most likely friendly, b) if the cat were not friendly, I could easily overpower it and protect myself, c) "He's not a stray, house cats roam the neighborhood," and d) it's "nice" when cats rub against your legs. Hm...agree to disagree on all accounts.
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