Reminders

This weekend I finally marked "complete" in my phone reminder to "Add polymeric sand to patio".  I think I put that reminder in my list while Leslie was still alive, if that tells you how long you can ignore a daily reminder.  The first week you're like..."RIGHT!  I have to get that started."  That continues off and on for a few months.  After that you realize you're not doing it, so you turn off the notify thing, but you're still thinking..."I'll get to it," so you don't actually delete it.  After about a year you just don't even actually see the reminder.  I think I stubbed my toe on the polymeric sand in my garage getting out of the minivan and that got me thinking I should complete it this year.  That, and I've been actually using my reminders more consistently as a tool to combat my continuously-decaying short term memory.  (Highly recommend this)

Last year I ALMOST did it.  The job has more to it than just "add sand" though.  I had weeds growing through my patio cracks pretty much...everywhere.  And the sand fills the cracks like grout would.  It's super simple but...

First I needed to kill the weeds.  Roundup.  Fine.  I did that last year.  Then waited a couple days...did it again for the ones that lived.  Then pulled them.  Then stalled out before I could reach the next phase...

Pressure wash patio.  I almost stalled out on that again this year.  It seems the $100 pressure washer I bought 15 years ago is no longer getting up to pressure.  I thought maybe my hose was too long (ba dum bum) and almost stalled out again holding up the project until I got a shorter hose.  But after pressure washing it a few times (my dad loaned me his pressure washer and even took a turn pressure washing it before I got to it) and then pulling any remaining weeds not already dead or dying, I finally got past that stage. 

When the patio was originally installed...seven years ago maybe?...they had me fill the cracks with polymeric sand, and it probably lasted three or four years without any weeds poking through before each subsequent year stared getting worse.  It looked horrible.  Finally had enough.

Anyway..."completed."  Thanks for the reminders.
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I've been having some great successes lately with cooking.  I'll share some of those on the blog at some point.  But this weekend I had a couple "setbacks".

Yesterday was National Ice Cream Day (I guess).  I recently bartered for my friend Kate's unused Cuisinart ICE-21.  I've always wanted an ice cream maker.  For Emma's birthday in March I actually made "no churn" ice cream that turned out amazingly well (and was super easy), but I was eager to try "the real thing".

I talked to Emma about it and we decided to start out simply before doing anything crazy.  We decided on vanilla.  Kate gave me a couple pointers (put the inner tub in the freezer for at least 24 hours before starting, chill your ingredients as much as possible before starting, and don't run the machine more than about 15 minutes unless you want to burn out the motor).

I needed a recipe and asked her for one, but she was on the road and just told me to google cuisinart recipes, which I dutifully did.

Except.  Except I didn't pay attention to WHICH cuisinart ice cream maker I was getting the recipe for, and ended up making about twice as much as the ICE-21 can fit.

I followed the recipe.  It said 30-35 minutes in the machine.  I thought about Kate's warning...but it was the Cuisinart recipe...how could that be wrong?

I discovered my error about 35 minutes later when my mixture was still soup.  I reread the recipe book and saw that the filename of the Ibook was ICE-35 recipes.  uhhhhhh...

The bright side is...the mixture isn't wasted.  And I didn't burn out the motor.

So Kate advised me to just split the mixture in half and try again the next day.  (That's today, by the way).  So...my mixture is in the fridge chillin', my tub is in the freezer, freezin', and hopefully tonight I'll be making ice cream.  Happy belated National Ice Cream Day!
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Meanwhile...I decided to make a roasted red pepper for hamburgers.  I thought...roasted red pepper, avocado, and provolone would be a nice burger combination.  So I took the red peppers out to the grill and started them cooking.  Once I got back in the house I changed my mind about the burger, deciding we'd had them too recently, and decided on spaghetti instead.

I remember thinking...maybe I should set a timer for the pepper so I don't forget them.  But I decided I wouldn't.

This morning I woke up and looked out at the patio...it's so bare with all the furniture still off in the grass, and it looks so nice with all the cracks filled with the hardened sand/grout and not a weed in sight.  I glanced at the grill (which I'd rolled back the previous night to roast the red peppers) and froze.  The red peppers!

They were done.  The gas was gone.  They were done and sitting on the grill, black as pitch but perfectly in shape.  I picked one up.  It was paper light.  I squeezed and it cracked, crumbling to powder under the pressure of my fingers.

I should have set the timer.

Delicious..."blackened" roasted red pepper...patio with polymeric sand in the background.

Home Made Fries

I wanted to title this "Suck it, Pioneer Woman," but I thought that people would be turned off by that title.  So I just put that in the first line instead because I guess that makes it a better sell.  For those of you who thought this was going to be a recipe or something I guess I tricked you.  Sorry.

The other day Emma said she wanted to try home made fries.  We've done potato chips before but she wanted fries.  So I bought potatoes.  Sunday, Leslie decided, "Today we make fries!" and cut them.  But I was going to actually cook them, so I looked up a "recipe". 

It's weird calling it a recipe because it's a one ingredient thing...sort of.  More of a "procedure" really.  So I looked up a "procedure".  Leslie is always saying, "We never go wrong with Pioneer Woman" so I looked up her procedure for "perfect fries".  I feel like there are too many quotes in this post so far. 

Anyway the first thing she says, straight out of the gate is, you have to soak the cut potatoes in cold water for a few hours.  So since it was dinner time at. that. moment. I just made homemade potato chips (which were awesome) and we soaked the cut fries in water like the Pioneer woman specifically tells us we need to in order to make them perfectly.  Later I looked up another recipe, this time Emeril.  Same thing...soak 'em first.

Fine.  We put off fries until hamburger night, which was tonight.  Both the procedures said we could soak them overnight.  So we got the soaking done early.

What we didn't get done early was dinner.  Emma had dance until 7:30, and I got home way later than usual.  Leslie left to go pick her up and I started the fries.  I had to dry them off and then heat oil to 300 degrees.  I did this with a pot of canola oil and digital cooking thermometer.  Pioneer woman was very specific about doing this for 5 minutes or so at 300 degrees in small batches.

So it didn't take long for me to realize that since it took 10 minutes for the oil to reach 300, and I had at least 4 batches of fries at 5 minutes each...dinner would NOT be ready by the time they got home.  Especially since I would typically cook the hamburgers so they were done with the fries, and hadn't started the hamburgers yet because I didn't trust the cat or Lily not to investigate this wonderful hot oil on the stove top.

30 minutes later I was almost done with the first round (yes, first) of frying and Leslie walked in the door.  I'd at least prepped her via text for the fact that it was taking forever so she didn't flip out that nothing was cooked, but that didn't stop the note of righteous indignation from creeping into her voice as she said, "She can't wait for that, she hasn't eaten since lunch!"  This when I told her that Pioneer Woman very specifically states that the perfect fucking fries must be not once, but twice fried.  Once at 300 degrees...once at 400 degrees.  And I hadn't finished the first round yet.

She grilled the hamburgers and was done as I was starting the first batch of the second round at 400 degrees.  At this point it was 8 o'clock.  Lily needed a bath, nobody else had eaten, and I was cursing under my breath as I tried and failed to carefully add fries to 400 degree canola oil, periodically splashing it on my fingers.

But finally they were done.  And drained.  And salted.  And plated. 

And they were alright.  Yeah...alright.  Two days of cold water bath, drain, dry, heat oil to 300 and fry for 5 minutes in small batches times infinity, add bandages and first aid cream, drain, dry, heat oil to 400 and fry until brown, more bandages, drain, dry, salt, serve...and they were just alright. 

You know what's better though?  Ore-Ida Fast food fries.  Directly out of the fucking freezer, and into the Fry-Daddy for 5 minutes.  BANG!  DONE!  Tastes like McDonald's for godsake.  IN FIVE MINUTES.  This took two days and an hour!

I'm in this Wellness "challenge" at work.  In order to earn the prize I want I have to average 10,000 steps per day for like 45 consecutive days.  Tonight, after cleaning up, and getting kids to bed I looked down at my pedometer and it read 6,500 steps (ish).  It was 11 o'clock and I was getting on the damn treadmill to get to my 10,000 steps.  Because of the damned Pioneer Woman and her "perfect" fries.

And that is why I'm writing this at 1 in the morning.  Because of the Pioneer Woman. 

Lesson:  Don't bother making homemade fries.
Lesson 2:  You CAN go wrong with the Pioneer Woman.