Tonight is the night before Turkey day and I've been cooking up a storm, just as every other American woman the night before a food holiday.
And Harriet the spy can't stand when anyone is doing anything and her nose isn't in the center of the action. Well....as I've said before, Lucy's hygiene leaves something to be desired.
And I'm a little feisty when I'm cooking for other people.
So as Gran wanders into the kitchen in the middle of my baking frenzy and looks at my cranberry white chocolate muffins and starts to walk toward them I intercept her.
Gran please don't touch the muffins. If you want to be in the kitchen you need to wash your hands.
(she stares at me with her mouth open wide enough to catch flies)
Kenna what are you saying?
I'm saying that you need to wash your hands before you start touching things in the kitchen.
(she stares at me again)
My hands is clean.
No gran, they aren't. Please wash your hands.
Oh shit. Don't tell me what to do!
(she stalks off)
Three minutes later Gran is back in the kitchen. I'm guarding my muffins and she's looking at them with a gleam in her eye.
Gran, if you're going to be in the kitchen, you need to wash your hands, with SOAP.
(she stares at me and starts to go for the muffins. See every time I bake she likes to touch EVERY SINGLE MUFFIN on the cooling rack)
Gran, don't touch my muffins.
Oh shit Kenna. Don't tell me what to do. I can't even look.
Gran if you're going to be in the kitchen wash your hands.
She stalks off muttering oh shit don't tell me what to do.
Five minutes later here comes gran!
We have the same conversation, complete with a Go to hell Kenna!
and then she tells me that she's not going to eat anything I cook.
Then she stalks off and I tell her goodnight and she ignores me.
Huh? She's not speaking to me? Really? SWWWEEEETTTTTT
I finished my baking without gran in the kitchen.
It was baking bliss.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Coffee, Tinfoil pans and salt...NOT a great combo!
Gran is a disaster in the kitchen.
I have been REALLY trying to keep her out of the kitchen. She used to be a fantastic cook, but now her tastebuds are gone, she does gross things like using her fingers when they are obviously not clean, and has less than zero memory so she forgets what she's doing and either leaves things out, overcooks, burns, etc. It's a regular clusterfuck when she starts, so I try to keep her far far away from the kitchen..
Cuz bad things happen when I let her in.
Last night I was making a beautiful chicken stock. Picture perfect. Magazine ready. I got the recipe from Real Simple....chicken carcass, fresh herbs, peppercorns, onion, garlic, carrots slowly simmered over a low flame for several hours, to a beautiful golden, ready to be the base for my soups all winter (it freezes beautifully). I was cooling it before I strained it as not to burn my fingers. Gran had gone poking in the kitchen a time or two (or three) while I was cooking it, but I am quicker than she is and managed to foil her attempts to put her old lady nose where it doesn't belong....in MY pot.
Then I had to pee. Heaven forbid I had to use the bathroom.
I come out and gran is hovering over my pot....WITH THE SALT IN HER HAND.
GRAN WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? THAT'S MY STOCK. DO NOT PUT SALT IN MY STOCK.
That soup needs salt!
THAT IS NOT SOUP. IT'S STOCK. DO NOT SALT MY STOCK.
Kenna don't tell me what to do. Don't tell me how to cook. I know how to cook. That soup needs salt.
IT IS NOT SOUP!!! AND IT'S MY POT. GET THE HELL OUT OF MY POT...
I ripped the salt and the spoon out of her hand, not before she managed to get at least a tablespoon of salt in my stock and nearly ruined it....and she slammed the lid down on the pot.
I had to leave, I was boiling.
That was yesterday.
Today I come home from work and running errands near 5ish. Gran is in the kitchen. Red flags go off in my head when gran is in the kitchen. I notice she's hovering around the microwave pushing buttons.
No biggie right?
Um. WRONG.
Gran has put her "Meals on Wheels" dinner in the microwave. IN A TINFOIL PAN. It says RIGHT on the top of the meal "DO NOT MICROWAVE" and she puts it in the microwave.
For 12 minutes. (yes, twelve).
I see the shiny tin foil and LEAP across the kitchen to open the microwave. Gran has already started the slow crawl out of the kitchen.
KENNA WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING???
Gran THAT'S METAL. YOU CAN NOT PUT METAL IN THE MICROWAVE.
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT KENNA. I PUT THOSE IN THE MICROWAVE ALL THE TIME.
I stare at her gape mouthed and dumbfounded. She is going to burn the house down. She does NOT microwave them all the time, because I am the one who gets her dinner 90% of the time.
So I plate her dinner and put it back in the microwave. Then I bring her her dinner in her chair where it's safe. She's not in the kitchen.
And I start to clean the kitchen. And I noticed that the coffee filter had what appeared to be very finely ground coffee in it.
Very fine.
and I look closer and it's not coffee at all. I pick it up and sniff. Hummm....well it's not all bran.
It's cinnamon.
Yes. Gran brewed Cinnamon.
I have been REALLY trying to keep her out of the kitchen. She used to be a fantastic cook, but now her tastebuds are gone, she does gross things like using her fingers when they are obviously not clean, and has less than zero memory so she forgets what she's doing and either leaves things out, overcooks, burns, etc. It's a regular clusterfuck when she starts, so I try to keep her far far away from the kitchen..
Cuz bad things happen when I let her in.
Last night I was making a beautiful chicken stock. Picture perfect. Magazine ready. I got the recipe from Real Simple....chicken carcass, fresh herbs, peppercorns, onion, garlic, carrots slowly simmered over a low flame for several hours, to a beautiful golden, ready to be the base for my soups all winter (it freezes beautifully). I was cooling it before I strained it as not to burn my fingers. Gran had gone poking in the kitchen a time or two (or three) while I was cooking it, but I am quicker than she is and managed to foil her attempts to put her old lady nose where it doesn't belong....in MY pot.
Then I had to pee. Heaven forbid I had to use the bathroom.
I come out and gran is hovering over my pot....WITH THE SALT IN HER HAND.
GRAN WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? THAT'S MY STOCK. DO NOT PUT SALT IN MY STOCK.
That soup needs salt!
THAT IS NOT SOUP. IT'S STOCK. DO NOT SALT MY STOCK.
Kenna don't tell me what to do. Don't tell me how to cook. I know how to cook. That soup needs salt.
IT IS NOT SOUP!!! AND IT'S MY POT. GET THE HELL OUT OF MY POT...
I ripped the salt and the spoon out of her hand, not before she managed to get at least a tablespoon of salt in my stock and nearly ruined it....and she slammed the lid down on the pot.
I had to leave, I was boiling.
That was yesterday.
Today I come home from work and running errands near 5ish. Gran is in the kitchen. Red flags go off in my head when gran is in the kitchen. I notice she's hovering around the microwave pushing buttons.
No biggie right?
Um. WRONG.
Gran has put her "Meals on Wheels" dinner in the microwave. IN A TINFOIL PAN. It says RIGHT on the top of the meal "DO NOT MICROWAVE" and she puts it in the microwave.
For 12 minutes. (yes, twelve).
I see the shiny tin foil and LEAP across the kitchen to open the microwave. Gran has already started the slow crawl out of the kitchen.
KENNA WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING???
Gran THAT'S METAL. YOU CAN NOT PUT METAL IN THE MICROWAVE.
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT KENNA. I PUT THOSE IN THE MICROWAVE ALL THE TIME.
I stare at her gape mouthed and dumbfounded. She is going to burn the house down. She does NOT microwave them all the time, because I am the one who gets her dinner 90% of the time.
So I plate her dinner and put it back in the microwave. Then I bring her her dinner in her chair where it's safe. She's not in the kitchen.
And I start to clean the kitchen. And I noticed that the coffee filter had what appeared to be very finely ground coffee in it.
Very fine.
and I look closer and it's not coffee at all. I pick it up and sniff. Hummm....well it's not all bran.
It's cinnamon.
Yes. Gran brewed Cinnamon.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Pineapple pie
Gran loves Pineapple pie. I think it's gross, but gran LOVES it. That works for me as I'm trying to lose weight, and so I try not to keep the stuff that i love in the house. It reduces temptation, and the desire to snack and eat all those things i'm not supposed to eat.
My mom normally buys her pineapple pies when they are on clearence at Ralphs, and that's fine because they don't last long at all.
Gran eats pineapple pie for breakfast, she eats pineapple pie for a snack, she eats it for dessert and in two days *poof* the whole pie is gone.
So Tuesday night gran had dinner as normal, I fed her before I left for my errands....she had a pretty big dinner too. When I left there was just slightly more than 2/3 of a pie.
I came back and there was about half a pie left and there was a sticky plate by her chair and so I knew she had eaten dessert.
9pm gran is wandering in the kitchen. She takes a knife, cuts a sliver of pineapple pie and eats it on her way to the sink. She washes her hands, dries them on the towel and turns around to leave the kitchen.
She spies the pie and gets waylaid.
She cuts another sliver of pineapple pie and eats it, goes to the sink and washes her sticky fingers, wipes down the counter and turns to leave the kitchen.
You guessed it. She spied the pie a third time. She walks over to the pie (I am watching this highly amused) cuts a slightly larger piece this time, puts it in her palm, grabs a napkin for cleaning purposes, takes a big ole bite and then opens the fridge.
She ponders for a moment.
I think she's going for the milk. However, I just bought a new gallon and the gallons are a bit hard for her to hold and swill from.
Oh no. She grabs the non-dairy creamer. lifts the carton to her lips and swigs.
I looked on in horror.
GRAN THAT IS COFFEE CREAMER.
She puts the carton down.
So?
What do you mean so?? I have to use that too! GROSS. Gran that is gross.
She tells me to go to hell.
LOL
Yup, we are back to that!
My mom normally buys her pineapple pies when they are on clearence at Ralphs, and that's fine because they don't last long at all.
Gran eats pineapple pie for breakfast, she eats pineapple pie for a snack, she eats it for dessert and in two days *poof* the whole pie is gone.
So Tuesday night gran had dinner as normal, I fed her before I left for my errands....she had a pretty big dinner too. When I left there was just slightly more than 2/3 of a pie.
I came back and there was about half a pie left and there was a sticky plate by her chair and so I knew she had eaten dessert.
9pm gran is wandering in the kitchen. She takes a knife, cuts a sliver of pineapple pie and eats it on her way to the sink. She washes her hands, dries them on the towel and turns around to leave the kitchen.
She spies the pie and gets waylaid.
She cuts another sliver of pineapple pie and eats it, goes to the sink and washes her sticky fingers, wipes down the counter and turns to leave the kitchen.
You guessed it. She spied the pie a third time. She walks over to the pie (I am watching this highly amused) cuts a slightly larger piece this time, puts it in her palm, grabs a napkin for cleaning purposes, takes a big ole bite and then opens the fridge.
She ponders for a moment.
I think she's going for the milk. However, I just bought a new gallon and the gallons are a bit hard for her to hold and swill from.
Oh no. She grabs the non-dairy creamer. lifts the carton to her lips and swigs.
I looked on in horror.
GRAN THAT IS COFFEE CREAMER.
She puts the carton down.
So?
What do you mean so?? I have to use that too! GROSS. Gran that is gross.
She tells me to go to hell.
LOL
Yup, we are back to that!
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