You Say "Ricotta," I Say "Get Off My Porch"

     Welcome to my world.  I decided to make ricotta cheese from scratch because I've heard it's better than store-bought, takes no time, and is so easy a monkey could do it with his hands tied to his ears.  Okay, I'm game.  I bought whole milk and heavy cream, which I haven't done since the Bicentennial, squeezed a couple of lemons, and I was off and running.  

     According to my recipe, you combine milk, cream, and salt in a large pot and bring it to a boil.  Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.  So far, so good. While I'm standing there watching the pot, which will naturally never boil, our puppy (did I mention we have a new puppy?????) creates a diversion in another room that cannot be ignored.  The noise suggests it's either sheets being removed from the bed, the entire roll of toilet paper being unwound through every square foot of the house, or the demolition of the powder room we've been thinking of remodeling.  Knowing deep in my soul that I shouldn't, I nonetheless sprint out of the kitchen to repair the damage, do so at warp speed, and sprint back to the kitchen in time to see the milk mixture boiling over onto the stove, the counter top, the cabinets, the floor, and everything else in its path.  It's a veritable dairy volcano.  And while the sight is bringing tears to my eyes, it has just given Puppy a new reason to live.  Edible substances!  On the floor!  Dripping off the counters!  Falling from the sky! 

     Without giving myself undue credit, I believe that a more fragile woman might have cursed, thrown the pot away, cursed some more, and marched out of the kitchen, never to return.  However, having spent the last month adjusting from LIFE BEFORE PUPPY to WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY HAS HAPPENED TO MY LIFE, I steadfastly continue with my instructions, adding three tablespoons of lemon juice, reducing the heat under the pot, stirring constantly, and awaiting the highly anticipated curdling, which is the final triumphant moment in the procedure.  Mind you, I'm stirring nonstop while using one foot on a towel to mop up the milk on the floor and the other foot to try to block Puppy from his impromptu snack.  And possibly cursing.  Just a little.  

     After the two longest minutes in timed history, the milk mixture does indeed curdle, and while still blocking Puppy from his munchies, I one-leg it over to the sink where my cheese-cloth-lined colander awaits.  I pour the mixture into it and while it starts to drain, I drop to the floor to get the rest of the milk there, hop up and mop up the kitchen counter, then spray and wipe down the stove so there is finally -- finally! -- no remaining dairy product left in sight.  And Puppy, now disappointed beyond any speaking of it, finally -- finally! -- lies down.  

     While the ricotta cheese drains, I begin the formidable task of cleaning up the pot that boiled over.  And, oh yes, which accumulated quite a bit of milk product on its bottom, both in and out, and which bears so little resemblance to its former sparkling self that I am tempted to put it out of its misery.  But I persevere.  By the time I finish, the ricotta cheese has drained down to its curds (good news there), so I transfer it to another container for chilling just as Puppy announces that he is ready for his next meal/drink/pee/poop/nap/walkies/all of the above.  

     Now, three hours later, all of Puppy's immediate needs have been addressed, he is heavy into his afternoon nap (can you say "happy days are here again"?), and I have sampled the ricotta, and as much as I want to hate it with every fiber of my being, it's actually quite good.  I would even have to say it's better than store-bought.  

     So welcome to a typical morning in my kitchen these days -- three minutes of ricotta cheese making, fifteen minutes of ricotta cheese cleaning up, five minutes of Puppy reconnaissance, and two minutes of sailor-worthy cursing.  And the ricotta is good, but let me tell you, no monkey with his hands tied to his ears could pull it off! 

GUMBO FOR DUMBOS

     Feel like cooking?  Got all day?  Then I have just the thing for you, my friend.  Whip yourself up a big old pot of gumbo!  Wait, I'm lying because there's no such thing as whipping this stuff up.  It is an arduous process of chopping and measuring and standing and stirring and watching like a hawk and stirring and watching like a hawk and standing and stirring, stirring, stirring.  But if you live through the prep, you will be treated to a pot of gold, quite literally.

     I spent several days assembling all the ingredients and performing an assortment of pre-prep stretching and strengthening exercises.  Also on my mind was what to do about Puppy (have I mentioned we have a new puppy???????) so I didn't suffer a repeat of the ricotta cheese debacle.  But I worried needlessly.  Puppy's most recent favorite spot to recline is right in front of the kitchen stove, so there he was in all his glory during the entire process (puppies sleep A LOT).  I was able to keep a good eye on him, though I did have to straddle him during the entire standing and stirring process, a position I had not sufficiently stretched for.  But I digress.

     I'm from Virginia, but since that's not really the deep South, I didn't come out of the womb with an inherent knowledge of the mystery that is THE ROUX.  And let me tell you, gumbo is all about THE ROUX.  This mixture of fat and flour must be stirred constantly at a low temperature to ensure that it doesn't burn, and it takes close to an hour for it turn from white to a chocolate brown, and if you so much as blink, it will scorch and you will have to start from scratch.  But you probably won't and by then you will RUE the day you ever heard about THE ROUX.  (Go ahead, insert your derogatory noise here.)

      After wisely visiting the "ladies' lounge," (because believe me, there will be no time for THAT kind of nonsense once you start stirring) and 20 minutes of chopping vegetables, I began THE ROUX process, which I was told would take 20 to 30 minutes and which actually took a full hour.  By the time my mixture turned the proper color, my neck was stiff, my stirring arm was cramping, and my low back was talking to me.  But Puppy was sleeping like a rock!  Once THE ROUX is complete, it's nothing but a roller coaster ride from there, most of which is just simmering time.  By the end of the day, the house smelled like Louisiana and our mouths were watering.  I liked it, but my husband loved it, which is the only thing that really matters to me, so I call this ragin' Cajun kitchen adventure a huge success!

     I'm not going to take the time or the space to include the recipe here because there are so many of them on the Internet, but if you have one you particularly like, I would love to see it. 

You're Kidding, Right?

     If you're still keeping that new year's resolution to lose weight, no doubt you're watching your meal portion sizes and getting to the gym regularly, but here are a few wackadoodle tips that might help . . . believe it or not.

1.   Sniffing peppermint (preferably not in the form of a York Peppermint Patty) might help curb your appetite.

2.    Eating off a red plate might help you eat less.  

3.    Indulging in chocolate is associated with lower levels of abdominal fat.   

4.   Sleeping in a cooler bedroom may increase your calorie burning potential during the night.  

5.   Keeping pictures of low calorie foods on your refrigerator (and actually looking at them occasionally) may help satisfy cravings for higher calorie foods.

6.   Organizing your desk might reduce your food intake throughout the day.

7.   Paying with cash rather than credit cards may help you choose healthier food options.  

     So there you have it -- seven absolutely ridiculous weight loss tips.  Anybody care to test them?  Look at it this way, even if you don't get smaller, your heating bill will, your grocery bill might, and you'll be eating plenty of chocolate.  It's all good!

Just Say No To These Swimmers

     Even though we're constantly reminded to eat our fish for its lean protein and healthy fats, we're advised to avoid the following ten:

1.  Imported catfish may contain antibiotics that have been banned in the United States.

2.   Farmed eel may have a high mercury content.

3.   King mackerel, ditto on the high mercury. 

4.  Orange roughy, ditto again on the high mercury, plus this species has reportedly been overfished.  

5.   Chilean sea bass, ditto again on high mercury and being overfished.

6.   Shark, one more time on the high mercury content.

7.   Imported shrimp may contain high levels of antibiotics and chemical residue.

8.   Swordfish, mercury, mercury, mercury.

9.   Tilefish, guess what?

10.  Bluefin tuna may contain higher levels of mercury than other tuna.

Is there anything left in the sea, you might be wondering.  Don't forget salmon, cod, tilapia, mahi mahi, silver corvina, scallops, shrimp, crab, lobster, mussels, and clams.  No need to give up seafood yet!