What HE said . . .

This reading of Harry Potter puts it better than I ever, ever could.

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Penelope, while we were Discussing Our Legislature and the Roles of the House of Representatives and the Senate

"So talking to the Senate is like playing Mother May I! Expect you'd get in trouble for calling a senator "Mother" if she weren't your mother. Or if she were a man. {fits of giggles}"

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Transracial, International Adoption

I've been reading Outsiders Within: Writing on Transracial Adoption (q.v.). Not every article is thrilling, but there are a great many that I wish I had had to read before or while we were adopting our children. And there are a great many that I'm glad I read now, while we're in the process of raising those children.

I read a lot of blogs about adopting from Vietnam. I would encourage all of you to read a few of the articles. Even if you're utterly opposed to some of the conclusions (as am I), they provide invaluable food for thought. Further, they force you to recognize that some people are drawing the conclusions with which you disagree--and that's the first step to preparing for it.

In the best MLA fashion, I'll be providing annotations to some of the key articles over the next few weeks.

Thanks!

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What DO they think about?

A few weeks ago, in a sudden need to get some genuine work done, I let the kids watch Inspector Gadget. I know, I know--but I had a TON of ironing to do. I'm not proud of it . . . I don't do it too often (let them watch a purely entertaining, by no means education video, that is--I iron relatively frequently), and Amanda knows about it (which is not to say she approves). Anyway . . .

Today at lunch, I was reading a suspenseful book, and I used a deep, growly voice. Van pointed out that it was the same as the voice of the bad guy in Inspector Gadget. Powell supplied the name: "Yeah! Mr. Claw."

Without missing a beat, Penelope supplied, "That's Dr. Claw."

"I wonder where he got his degree?" I asked, trying to get back to the book at hand.

Penelope immediately said, "Oh, he has an M.D. He's not smart enough to get a Ph.D. And, after all, he doesn't have a head!"

Although my ego was nicely stroked (me with my hard-earned Ph.D.), I'm not sure our friends with M.D.s would appreciate that remark! For one thing, it was hard enough for me to get a Ph.D.--an attempt to get an M.D. would have sunk me forever!

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Comments on Vista's emulation of Macintosh software

"It's like Vladimir Horowitz playing the piano after putting socks on
his hands; you get a SENSE of the music, but the beauty, the fire,
the finesse is utterly absent."

I overheard this comment this morning . . . never mind that I heard
it coming out of my own mouth--it's still a good quote!

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Who is God's Dame?

We were a bit flummoxed when that question came up--it was a bit like
an old Art Linkletter program.

"You know--God's Dame. We're always praying 'Hallowed be Thy Dame.'"

After a bit of theological explanation, we were back on track.

It reminded us of the time Penelope was singing "Let All Things Now
Living." The lyrics read

Let all things now living a song of thanksgiving
To God the creator triumphantly raise.
Who fashioned and made us, protected and stayed us,
Who still guides us on to the end of our days.
God's banners are o'er us, His light goes before us,
A pillar of fire shining forth in the night.
Till shadows have vanished and darkness is banished
As forward we travel from light into light.

All was well, except the penultimate line. She was singing,

Till darkness has banished a river of Spanish.

And she was singing it with perfect sincerity! Let's hope that our
Spanish-speaking friends and neighbors didn't take offense.

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Blueberry Cobbler

Modesty is my strong suit. In fact, I'm one of the most modest
people I know!

Actually, it is generally true that I don't tend to praise myself or
my work. And I know it seems like I've been doing just that lately.

So I hesitate to mention it, but today's lunch was another
masterpiece. I made a dish the family is quite fond of--homemade
fried chicken strips. It sounds like chicken fingers, but it's a far
cry from anything you get in a typical restaurant. The secret (don't
tell anyone else this, all right?) is to double-dredge the strips.
First, you dip them in an egg-and-milk mixuture, then in the secret
mixture (keep this to yourself, okay?) of flour, matzo meal, salt,
pepper, mustard powder, and other secret ingredients (let's not let
too many disclosures spoil a friendship, shall we?)--then you dip in
the egg-and-milk and the secret mixture AGAIN, and then you shallow-
pan fry them until they are crisp and golden. The children love them
plain; I love them in a sandwich with a bit of mayo, a lot of fresh,
thickly-sliced beefsteak tomato, some pepper (ah, pepper!), some
spinach, and a splash of French's yellow mustard (q.v.).

That was lovely, but what made everything so marvelous was the
BLUEBERRY COBBLER we made. For the most part, I followed this
receipt--but it needed a bit of modification. For example, we don't
have an 8x8 glass pan, so I melted the butter in a bowl and poured it
in our metal 8x8er. I also think there's not quite enough topping--
next time, I'll do 1.5x the amount of topping. We were also out of
vanilla extract (which is what I assume they meant by "Vanilla
flavoring), so I had to pour some kirschwasser in our old Penzey's
vanilla bottle (which still had the beans in it), swish it around for
a while, and then use that.

When it was done, we let it rest for an hour, which helped the
berries solidify. It was heavenly. I mean HEAV-EN-LEEEEE! We ate
it with a touch of vanilla ice cream. Oh, my. What a summer!

One of the things I like best about the recipe is that it is SO VERY
SIMPLE. It doesn't mess around with corn starch or anything tricky--
just good old fashioned butter.

And don't be afraid to use the butter, folks! Let's face it--how
often do you make blueberry cobbler? When you make it, go ahead and
make it right! No margarine . . . it would turn out horrible. Make
it the right way and blast the consequences!

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http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/recipe_views/views/15052

The Perfect Summer Dinner

Two nights ago, we had the most stupendous summer meal we've ever had.

I can't pinpoint the centerpiece of the meal. I think it must have
had four centerpieces, separate but equal, divisible in theory but
inseparable in practice. Of this meal, we must neither confound the
parts nor divide the substance.

First, the steak. It was a flank steak, locally raised. The
marinade was simple in the extremest way--just a bit of olive oil,
garlic, salt and pepper. It was grilled to a delicate somewhere-
between-rare-and-medium-rare and sliced thin.

Next, the fresh tomato salad. Again, simplicity. Locally grown,
perfectly ripe, summer tomatoes, sprinkled with the tiniest sprinkle
of salt, a fuller amount of pepper, and a bit of olive oil (the good
kind) and red wine vinegar (the cheap kind--but not the kind that can
go wrong). The tomatoes were topped with fresh mozzarella--
stunningly fresh . . . just perfect. Then freshly-torn basil (you
never want to use a knife on basil) from our own window boxes was
tossed on top. Just magnificent.

The grill also produced the bread. It was fresh ciabatta bread
grilled (and I was proud of the lovely grill marks on the bread this
time) to perfection--with exactly the right shade of dark brown
around the square outside of the bread.

A red wine finished off the delightful meal. That wasn't exactly
local--it was an Australian Syrah--but it fit well with everything else.

What a stunner of a meal! It was the essence of summer. We ate it
on the back porch, and the weather cooperated with us for a change:
we hit the only high-of-eighty day in a week of highs-in-the-mid-
nineties.

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Astonishing Menu Item

Today at lunch, I threw together something amazing.

I'm in charge of the kids this week--Amanda has taken on a part-time
job, and she's able to go to work for some full days this summer why
I prepare for the fall semester. Sometimes, meal planning happens
half an hour before the meal. Fortunately, Amanda is an astonishing
cook, and there are often scads of scrumptious leftovers around.

Today, the remnants of the flank steak we had last night (more on
that astonishing meal later!) formed the center of our lunch.

I took some slightly-stale ciabatta bread, split and toasted it, and
thought.

Then I melted some butter in a small saucepan. Yes, butter. Real
butter. More than half a stick.

I thought some more. Mainly, I thought about garlic . . . but our
kids (Penelope in particular) are going through a "YAAAA! THAT'S TOO
SPICY" stage when a dish has a tiny bit more SALT than they like, so
I thought against it.

Instead, I added shredded parmesan cheese--not even the good kind
(though certainly not the stuff in the green can, folks)--and semi-
melted it. It gave the butter a parmesan essence that was thrilling--
and the strands of semi-melted parmesan sprinkles were delightful.

So . . . we spooned that over the toasted bread, added thin slices of
steak, thick slices of home-grown tomatoes, and a touch of
pepper . . . and we had a heavenly lunch.

Now we're off to the soccer field so that Daddy can burn off some of
those astonishingly-delicious calories!

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