A Dangerous One

A quiet one can be a dangerous one, the restaurant owner remarked. Yes, I thought. When dining experiences are less than expected, telling the owner was the only responsible option - once upon a time. Today, however, the internet's power, if used in this complaint initiative, can have long lasting effects upon an unsuspecting restaurant. Jobs are at stake as would be the needs of a whole community. 

I had just finished telling this very friendly entrepreneur how delicious the fish and chips were. A golden touch, lightly done, was all that was required for heavenly fish and chips. Coleslaw, its sidekick, is a most delicious accompaniment, a cold crunchy side kick that cannot be beat. Fish needs only a light touch please while giving fries their special treatment - blanched once then deep fried, lightly, for that final glow. 

The power of the net is overwhelming. Let the personal touch be the kind tool to correct a dining error. It is easy to overcook, forget those special touches, in any meal. Gentle, gentle, all the way, should be our calling card. 

Having made years worth of dinners, pies, cookies and tarts, I know how easily 'food' mistakes are made. There was the chocolate milk episode that nearly made an appearance in mashed potatoes, one Christmas day, years ago. Baking soda - 10x - the amount for the recipe of chocolate cupcakes made it into a 'double' recipe. It was winter. The boys were very young. Could I fool them? I had made a white frosting and thought eating the treats, frosted, outside, would make the bitter taste disappear. What was I thinking? Out they went!.....

Recently.... small red potatoes were cooking on the stove in a small pot in a few inches of water. The timer buzzed but I did not hear it. As time passed, the pleasant aroma of baked potatoes pierced the air. I wondered. I was not baking potatoes. In that moment I imagined a fire. Instead, a cloud of steam rose above the small pot in the kitchen. Burnt potatoes. I rescued most of it. Not bad, I thought. We ate them. The taste was delicious. Any more burnt potatoes? he asked. Sorry, not today. The other day we had them again. The experimental aspect of this 'new recipe' was gone. This time, I burnt the tiny red potatoes cautiously and deliberately, on lower heat, with a bit of oil to safeguard the pot and potatoes.  A new recipe was born, a new kind of mistake and management approves.

 

He's Gone to Join Her

He lived a full life like his cousin, 'Sally', my 'daughter' . Eventually the struggle to live was more than he or his family could bear. This  precious terrier mix, Mall Cop, the professor, left us on August 27, a sunny day, with warm summer breezes and life all around. Four grandsons, 6 and under, along with their uncle, were the pallbearers for that final goodbye.

We mourn them, love them and are agonized by their passing. In my small childlike mind, I wonder does it really have to happen? Can't they live a little longer, to appease us, their parents? Lives are too short, anyway. Lives of pets are  painfully shorter. In a physical sense the speed of life is times seven. That precious time is simply too short, a painful awareness of the unfairness of it all. 

My Sally, our 65 pound bundle of love, excitement and energy gave us much even when surgeries and recovery dictated otherwise. She was our make work project. Her passing this past July cast a pall upon the summer. Then weeks later her cousin, “Mall Cop” joined her in doggie heaven. It was sorrowful, oh so painfully hard. A large chunk of my life disappeared, just like that!

Many funny moments involving my group of four were written about. Dogs are loving, precious and so funny. On one particular day, years ago, Ella, our mini schnauzer, sister of Mall Cop, was glumped by a skunk. Mall Cop was inside at that time wondering what the fuss was all about. He was not going to allow another bath. He'd had one the other day. The story was written that day, too important not to. Many valuable lessons for us all.To this day, I read "the invisible cloud came running" often. It is comical, even after death, of one who just watched that day but, sadly, is no longer here to comment. His wit was a part of his unique style. He and I had a special bond whenever we were together. We shared the sofa often. Occasionally, the only seat for me was on the floor. That was fine. They were comfortable. I was happy.

Then there was "16 legs in the kitchen", an event so comical that I had to write about it, also. As I sliced the fruit and cucumbers for their afternoon snack, one day, a herd of 'puppies' marching single file, was seen and heard walking, military fashion, into the kitchen. It was time to eat, they demanded. They had waited long enough. They followed me into the next room to snack, with precision, calm and focus. It was my daily duty to them, a love story to the end. I ache for my 'Mall Cop' and 'Sally'. I loved them so.