Digging Treasure

The above picture has absolutely nothing to do with anything. It's just that I took one look at the expression of resigned desperation on Mama Tigger's face and thought to myself, "Oh yeah. I remember that." Actually, the feeling is not gender-specific. I know lots of Daddies who would stand up and testify, too.

Went on an archeological dig to organize my freezer to day. I know I'm not quite finished because I just realized I haven't dug up my stash of lemon drop chili peppers yet. That's practically the culinary equivalent of finding golden artifacts in a pharaoh's tomb. Ah well. I'll do some more excavating tomorrow. Today I got sidetracked with using some of the recovered items in a chicken and rice one-pot meal in my trusty pressure cooker.

I do loves me my pressure cooker, especially when the weather gets warm because you don't have to have the burner on very long to do the job. One cup of Arborio rice in the mixture and it still only took 6 minutes under pressure. The rice was perfect and so was everything else.

This is quite an attitude adjustment from my feelings of unease about the earlier, older models of pressure cooker. Unease? Pffft! I skipped unease and jumped straight to stark terror. When that little jigger started jiggling on top of the vent I KNEW the damned thing was going to blow up. I figured the food would be on the ceiling and thick slabs of hot metal would impale me to the far wall. Mom used to laugh at the way I'd cautiously stick my head around the corner to check the jiggle motion. I didn't care. I was way too young for impalation. And I still am.

That all changed a few years ago when I treated myself to what folks call the "new generation" of pressure cookers. Got a dandy Fagor and it doesn't jiggle even a little bit. (Fagor is made in Spain but I don't know if the factory is mainly on the plain, with or without the rain. Sorry. A little humor under pressure there. Heh.)

Okay. You're right. I'll go to my room now. I'm sure I'll be better behaved tomorrow. Right after I find my chili pepper stash.

Old Favorite -- New Style

Youngest daughter Patti is always surprising me with fun stuff. She sent down a goody package with Albert (my grandson-the-chef) that contained, among other things, a package of nori half sheets. That turned out to be both a blast from the past and an introduction to a twist that's entirely new to me.

Y'all probably know this but just in case you don't, nori is toasted seaweed in sheet form. That's the stuff you see wrapped around sushi rolls. I was first introduced to it by my late sis-in-law Betty, who was a fabulous cook. I would watch, fascinated, as she expertly made sushi rolls on the bamboo sushi mat, layering rice and colorful veggies into little round works of art.

While she was doing that, I would be nibbling away on a nori sheet, which I found to be as hard to resist as potato chips. Betty would finally have to slap my hands so I didn't short her supply of sheets. Good memories.

For some reason I never got around to making sushi myself. Always promised myself I'd get a bamboo sushi mat and then I'd forget. But now -- hooboy! When I flipped the package of nori over and read the back, I discovered there has been a new way of doing sushi that doesn't require a mat. Am I the only person in the world who has never heard of hand roll sushi? Also known as cone sushi because it's rolled up like an ice cream cone.

Well! It just so happens I have a sack of sushi rice in the pantry. I just need to trot up to the market for some assorted veggies to go in the cones -- like cucumbers and avocados and whatever else strikes my fancy. Can't do that until Friday, though, so I can't show you any photos of the adventure until then.

In the meantime, I am slapping my own hands every time they try to sneak over to the nori package and open it. If I start nibbling now, there won't be any seaweed left by Friday. I'll just have to be brave. Maybe I'll distract myself with chocolate. Note to self: lots of chocolate.