details of a domestic goddess

part-time SAHM to four kids: Bear (96), Schmoo (99), Hercules (01), and Princess (02). I wear many hats, including that of the chef, maid, nanny, chauffeur, accountant, triage nurse, laundress, educator, admin assistant, maintenance, gardener, weekend warrior, and just mom too. when i'm not busy momming, i get up at 2am to go to work as an international spy.

30 August 2009

UQ 1998-2001

we lived in the united queendom (because there hasn't been a king in the kingdom for such a long time!!) for about 3 years when stationed there in the air force. we were dirt poor, being the junior-most ranked people, not only of the us air force members, but the entire base. most of the time we were advised to stay confined to our dinky little base in the middle of sheep farm country because of protests against the americans "spying on the british." we lived 3 miles from the nearest village that had more than a post office, 17 miles from the nearest city with a "mall" of sorts, and 2 hours by flying scotsman to london. all that during the petrol strikes and mad cow to boot. the smell of burning flesh will haunt me to the ends of my days. so my opinion of the country is probably a bit jaded, to say the least.

we acclimated to driving on the other side of the road pretty well, but i could not for the life of me handle a left-handed stick, so we were really glad we brought our american saturn with us. i only drove that, but dh could switch between my car and his mini quite well.


the first few months we lived there, we got to know the area, learned some of the history and many experiences we deemed "quaint" and "new." by the end of our first year, many of those things we called quaint were now small daily annoyances. i didn't like being called "duck" or "hen," and i visibly bristled at being called a "colonist," as the locals were want to do whenever i was seen in my humungous 4-door american sedan, or if i opened my mouth. our bank didn't communicate with other branches except by post...even though they could see we had money in our bank account on their computers, they told us we would have to drive to the bank where we originally opened the account to withdraw funds. i didn't like being expected to fix tea for the repair people who were in my home to - gosh, repair things, not gab! the hot and cold water came out of separate taps, so one couldn't wash the dishes without alternately scalding and freezing one's fingers with each rinse. summer was the last 2 weeks of august...and that was it. i went through a more-than-mild-but-not-severe depression every winter when the sun came up as we walked to school at 9 am and the streetlights came on as we walked home at 3 pm. the cold, wet, damp weather seeped into my bones and settled there that first winter and i never quite warmed up again until we'd fried in the arizona sun for a week or so after our return. and the only snow we received was a paltry dusting, so we couldn't even enjoy any actual "winter."

we found the food to be very bland, even at the finest restaurants, although i fell in love with just desserts and their chutney and cheese sandwiches. they make the only chutney i have ever liked. i've tasted others since, and none hold a candle to the nectar from this little coffeeshop specializing in tea, sandwiches and sweets. the combinations of food offered elsewhere blew our little american minds: tuna and sweetcorn pizza? baked bean pizza? ice-lollies? mr. brain's pork faggots - what?!? steamed spotted dick? (no thanks, i'll have apple pie.) fish served wrapped in newspaper from a truck - and the fish was fried whole, eyes and all! broiled tomatoes and cold baked beans on toast - for breakfast? i went into the kitchen and showed the chef at our hotel how to mix up a box mix of aunt jemima pancakes for breakfast. and i bought our own syrup from the commissary to go with it. he tasted some and found them "delightful."

we got a membership to the national trust to tour the history of the country that has been around for centuries and often found that a castle we had driven 2 hours to see was actually only a pile of old stones and a brown sign that said (site of). too many of those disappointments and we stopped going out in search of castles altogether.

BUT.....

we loved nottingham. we couldn't make the 2 hour drive often, but every time was well-worth the trip. we picnicked in sherwood forest and toured the art exhibits in nottingham castle. i miss biking the fen roads through village after village, over fjords, passing fields of wheat with no other sound than our wheels and the occasional car. i miss our house in the village, when we would wake up to the sounds of the horses in their back pasture in the mornings. i miss the fresh produce at tesco. i miss roundabouts. i miss the quiet. i miss the occasional high tea, sitting down with friends for a cuppa and watching the world slow for an hour, because we were all sitting down having a cuppa. i miss the christmas faire. who knew that toting a stein filled with hot mulled cider (or cocoa for the kiddies) and munching fresh roasted or warm, candied chestnuts during a light snowfall could be so magical?

we attended a fabulous medieval banquet, the likes of which i have not ever seen stateside. we dressed in medieval garb and the table was served by bustier-busting wenches laden with pewter pitchers of mead and ale. we were served soup in bread bowls and no utensils, so we sopped the thick heavy stew up in bites of bread. one person carved the several chickens at the table and we ate with our hands, as traditional medieval diners would. i had to scoot down the bull hotel's back stairs on me arse to the waiting car so i wouldn't fall to my death that night. it was fun - and it wasn't just the mead.

we had a wonderful time in our brief visit to scotland. the staggering beauty of fresh snow on ben nevis every morning was a sight to behold. we stopped for tea every couple of hours up there, just to keep warm! and that was in april!! loch ness surpassed my imagination in scope and beauty. we tried haggis on toast that week, and although i won't eat it again, that decision has more to do with how it's made than how it actually tastes.

we loved visiting our friends in knaresborough, in the yorkshire dales. our friends could actually see that bridge in the website's pic from the end of their street. we went to the fall festival and regularly bought the queen's "pink lady apples" at her winter residence in sandringham. we did actually make it to london on a few occasions. we hung out at the zoo in london and hit the hard rock cafe once, also visiting the sherlock holmes museum on baker street. and stonehenge is breathtaking at sunset. that is not a postcard; i took that shot in january 1999.

but we shallow americans pined for our pizza delivery, 24 hour stores, ATM's on every corner, restaurants without any smoking at all EVER, sun, chocolate chips, and proper cake. (sponge and rolled marzipan just never did it for me.) like i said, we miss some things. we plan, someday, to make england a stop on a tour through europe...for a chutney & cheese at just desserts! it's a great place to visit, but i couldn't live there.

19 August 2009

getting ribbed in america

"I just ate the most wonderful meal at the Officer's Club," he began -- in Arabic, of course. The students who didn't understand were scribbling notes and frantically flipping through the dictionary. He was late. He was always late for his right-after-lunch class and we just dealt with it. Those of us who could not afford to eat in the Officer's Club even if we were allowed in, just rolled our eyes and prepared for the story of privilege that was about to unfold. He had the flair for the dramatic, from the sharp angles of his eyebrows, down his regal nose, all the way through to the crinkles at the corners of his mouth. He was known by that smile as easy-going, even if strict. His grammar was better than most in his field, and he was respected by student and colleague alike. He was going bald and he was not fighting it. His comb-over looked more as if it was out of respect, to deflect the light from the students' eyes, rather than trying to hide the pate shining beneath that fading rug.

"The meat, she was falling from the bone. The flavor of the ribs was like nothing I have tasted before. That wonderous smoked meat was so good, and so fabulous, I had called to the, the chef to come to my table and I told to him that he was the best chef in all California."

Bjurstrom glanced up from his paper. "You ate ribs at the Officer's Club today?" he asked, with a strange look in his eyes.

"B'il arabia, min fudlik," insisted Dr. Asfoor, which we all knew by now translated to "in Arabic, please."

"You have eaten the ribs in your lunch at the Officer's Club today?" he managed, struggling with the past tense. He licked his index finger and started thumbing through his dictionary, a smile tugging unprofessionally at the edges of his mouth. Those of us who knew him well, knew something was up. We took our direction, however slight and unspoken, from the former Airborne Ranger designated as our class leader.

"Do you want to know where I ate this fabulous meat?" Dr. Asfoor teased the class into conversation. He drew us in, one by one, including us in the details, teaching us phrases and helping us talk around words and verb conjugations we had not yet learned. That is probably why I loved conversation so much. I loved diving right into the unknown and muddling around learning.

Bjurstrom carefully placed his dictionary in the corner of his desk and arranged his notes, while waiting for a lull in the conversation. "I ate ribs at the Officer's Club today, too," he said as proud as a five-year-old holding his first school painting.

Dr. Asfoor, turned to him with a big smile and asked, "Yes, and what else did you eat? Tell us because we cannot go inside, ya rafiq," he joked.

"I ate a salad and some milk. Milk makes a soldier strong. It was a good meal and my stomach is full. I do enjoy a tasty pig."

Dr. Asfoor broke into peals of laughter. "You are a funny student!" he exclaimed. "I love to hear my students tell jokes to me! I could not eat a pig!! They were beef ribs!" He was laughing so hard he was holding his belly and wiping tears from his eyes. I told you he was drama to the core.

Bjurstrom looked around the room and we could see the smile screaming behind his eyes. He was trying so hard to hold it together and it hit me. Dude. Our Muslim teacher just ate pork ribs. And on a Friday, no less, their holy day. And he liked them. The only thing that could make this worse was if he had somehow managed to eat them with his left hand.

"No, really," Bjurstrom brought out the English. "Those were pork ribs."

The classroom got deathly quiet. "No. You are mistaken. They were the beef ribs. Surely they would not serve pork ribs on this army base." He paused for a moment, and before anyone could take another breath he stated, "I must leave."

And leave he did.

He didn't return until Monday, when we heard from all the teachers about Poor Majid Asfoor getting poisoned sick at the Officer's Club on bad meat. He had to go to the hospital and have his stomach pumped. Our entire class snickered and elbowed every time it was mentioned. We tried explaining how much he liked the ribs and how tasty he thought they were, and the conversation was simply derailed, every time. Dr. Asfoor himself, brought in a new lesson plan altogether and dramatically changed the subject permanently. He even pretended not to understand either Arabic or English when the subject was brought up for the remainder of the YEAR.

I guess there are some things better left unsaid.

03 August 2009

crockpot chicken cacciatore

from the crockpot cookbook (we have a 5-qt. model)

1 med onion, thinly sliced
3 lb chicken, cut up
12 oz tomato paste
4oz drained mushrooms (or about 3/4 C fresh)
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
2 cloves minced garlic
2 tsp crushed oregano leaves
1/2 tsp basil
1 bay leaf
1/2 C dry white wine
1 lb cooked spaghetti

(NOTE: i added 1 can undrained diced tomatoes and about 1 C thinly sliced yellow zucchini because i like my cacciatore veg-ful)

place onion in bottom of crockpot, with drained mushrooms, drained (reserve juices) tomatoes and zucchini. place chicken atop veggies. combine tomato paste, wine, and spices, adding reserved juices from tomatoes if needed. pour atop meat & veggies. place bay leaves in sauce. cover & cook on low - 8 hours or high - 4 hours. serve atop spaghetti.