Making Mac & Cheese

Horny Hardardt's Automat, of blessed memory, was my destination on most visits to Manhattan.  Insert the right number of coins and the window would pop open exposing some treat to relocate to my tray.  They had a unique macaroni & cheese, made with ziti rather than elbow, a creamier sauce than the stuff served at the school cafeteria.  It came in an oval green porcelain ramekin baked individually.  I sampled other H & H goodies over the years.  Chocolate milk gave way to some very good coffee.  There was a cake that I liked.  But the mac & cheese imprinted the indelible memory of good eats.

The Automat long closed.  The fondness for the food endured, with recipes now available on the internet.  My minor variations, as it is dumb to buy cream for just a few tablespoonfuls, though more realistic when made in restaurant quantities, has become one of my often repeated kitchen efforts whenever kosher certified cheddar goes on sale, as a home quantity uses about 12 ounces of the stuff.  It was once an effort, now tedious but not that hard, especially with a food processor's grating disc to prepare the cheese.  I also have to buy two quarts of milk, far more than my wife or I use for anything else.  All else, we usually have around the house.

I've learned to set out ingredients.  Any tubular pasta will do.  Ziti and penne or variants work the best.  Elbow just seems phony for this.  Boil, drain, leave in strainer.  Shred cheese and leave in a separate bowl.  Measure milk and flour.  Cut the desired amount of frozen butter.  The tomatoes which make it characteristic come in a can, with or without chilies.  Open the can.  Add desired amount of salt, sugar and pepper to the can.  Now all set.

Melt butter.  Add flour to make a roux.  Whisk for about five minutes.  Now the hard part.  Add the measured milk and whisk.  It will take about ten minutes to become thick.  Preheat oven.  Cooking spray to a lasagna pan.  Then just keep whisking.  Try not to add cheese prematurely.  When clearly thicker than it was, add the shredded cheese to the white sauce, keep whisking until it smooth, add the tomatoes and seasonings from the can while whisking some more, then add the cooked pasta.  Pour into the prepared lasagna pan.  Into the oven for 45 minutes.  Sometimes additional browning to make it look more like the Automat is desired.  Broil for a minute or two.   Out of oven.  Wait about five minutes for sauce to become less runny.  

Now have four meals.  One for day of preparation, one for next day, then portion into two more servings for storage in freezer until needed for meals the following week.

Eating out of Freezer

Overstuffed.  Good thing I delayed purchasing the box of phyllo for baklava that I want to make for scheduled guests.  As it is, I had to remove an ice cube tray and most of my frozen cold compresses to cram all the food I bought into the freezer.  

The freezer makes for fast food, or really easy to prepare food since I virtually never buy prepackaged meals.  There's kosher meat when it goes on sale.  Two whole chickens and a quarter turkey breast take up a lot of space and have become special occasion entrees.  I've accumulated beef, stackable in the packaging, though for shabbos and other special occasions.  For more daily fare, fish is probably nature's fast food.  It comes frozen at sea.  I almost never buy at the fish counter anymore.   Also comes in crunchy fillets.  Just thaw a day in advance, season, and mostly made in skillet or broiled.  Lots of meals that way.  The next level are ersatz meats.  Beyond Burger or Gardein products go directly from freezer to skillet.  Frozen vegetables go on sale.  Pour the desired amount into a dish and microwave, or pour similar amount into boiling water for a few minutes.  While I prefer fresh vegetables, the added convenience, versatility, and long usable life of frozen makes it worth keeping some around.  And it comes in flexible plastic bags that can be positioned in nooks.

We keep one or two cartons of ice cream in the door shelf.  Ample butter and Earth Balance which makes the best pareve butter substitute for baking.  And some leftover phyllo, just enough to try making strudel, though not enough for baklava.  And we have easy boil pasta, in the form of ravioli or pierogies that make for a quick meal.  And frozen Tabachnick soups that we should eat more frequently than we do, but goes on sale periodically.

As we get to the festive eating of the Holy Day Season, it is my intent to consume some of this a meal or two at a time, several times a week.  Menu planning mostly done when I open the freezer door, though Holy Days and guests get more thought.  But I really need to re-freeze some of my cold compresses.

Washed Kitchen Floor

My kitchen should sparkle.  I invested in it.  New cabinets, sink, lighting, flooring, backsplash.  Being a home's hub for food and mail invites insidious accumulation of stuff and of grime.  Nice vinyl tile floor, faux stone, hadn't been washed in ages.  It was time to do this.  

Found a ringer pail.  On last half bottle of Mr. Clean.  Bought a new mop.  Recruited wife as assistant.  Our tile measure one foot square, which makes it easy to designated zones of 6-8 squares to mop at a time, starting with the far wall, then working towards the front door and family rooms.  Move tables and carts and stuff from one designated zone, mop those squares, move it back, then clear another zone.  I think I did five sections.  About halfway through, I went to Shop-Rite to treat myself to a donut.  The floor now looks much better.  

As I relocated items to expose the floor, it became apparent that some things probably have better homes than my kitchen.  I've never used the sewing machine that I bought at a yard sale decades ago.  Electric wine chiller and opener never used.  Milchig salad spinner not used in a long time.  They occupy a nook away from walking paths so there's no urgency to relocate them.  Our microwave cart has a great lower closet.  It its filled with cookery advertised thirty or more years ago as dedicated to microwave use.  We never use them but could deploy that storage space with door for other things.  A long time ago I dedicated a big plastic tub for my shoes.  Almost never wear any of the ones there, but should.  And the cabinets could use some degreasing.

The lighting remains top notch.

Fab 5 Projects

The Fab 5 went to Japan.  My Netflix binge, two episodes while tethered to a platelet apheresis machine, the other two the following day at home.  Their people upgrades:  a divorcee who created a hospice program that became too all consuming, a gay young adult who had studied abroad and met a British partner, an early 20-something woman with artistic talent and no confidence, and a man whose marriage had become more of a living arrangement.  My challenges are far less, but the Queer Eyes remain helpful in each of their five spheres to those less floundering who could still benefit from their perspective.  

So what might I request of them, or more accurately what would a friend or spouse request of them on my behalf?  

Bobby upgrades the environment.  I'd like less clutter.  My Space has become fully defined, a pleasant sanctuary, though in need of cosmetics.  A more functional family room would be nice to have.  Maybe a fireplace that can safely glow in the cold months.  And a kitchen that has what I need when I need it but is free of the largely unused.  Bobby does the design and the work.  I can at least do the work.

Antoni runs the kitchen, teaching people how to sustain themselves if really basic, or entertain others with food specialties.  I do quite well here.  Techniques I can learn on my own.  Menus I commonly create.  Occasions to implement them could be increased.

Jonathan does the hair.  When I go to the barber, they ask me what I want them to do.  Jonathan decides what it seems best to do and does it.  I don't think any of my barbers, or occasionally one that might cross over to stylist, really wants to style with a blank slate.  My haircut, businesslike when done, Wild Man from Borneo for the final few weeks before the next one, doesn't really define me in any way.  It's not my best way to make a statement, if I even need to make a statement.  We'll stay businesslike and just wonder what else might have been possible.

Tan does appearance.  It is his input that I wonder most about.  I don't really have a look.  Summer t-shirts, shorts, and for the last couple of summers sandals most days.  A baseball cap with a logo that makes a statement if the t-shirt does not.  In the cooler months, long pants, casual shoes, shirt that I can wash and fold at home, some having logos.  Knit cap, windbreaker, sherpa jacket, or winter coat depending on weather.  For dress, which is usually synagogue, dress shirt, dress pants, maybe dress shoes.  I don't really have casual chic.  Tan would probably want me to have this type of ensemble while the other four find places for me to look that way.

Karamo deals with culture, which I think is a euphemism for upgrading people's insecurities or other psychological baggage.  I might offer him the most to do.  Shedding lingering resentments.  Restraining critical comments.

So that's what the Fab 5 would focus upon.  They're not coming.   I could do most of this without their help.

Summer's Close

Labor Day Weekend.  It's been a mostly good summer, more glories than travails.  My semi-annual projects transition at the end of June.  Did OK.  Got to visit my son.  Celebrated an anniversary.  Made it to my grandparents' cemeteries.  Tidied the house sufficiently to begin having guests.  Tended to some of my medical needs.  Able to resume platelet donations.  Ahead of schedule on my programmed reading.  Started making a YouTube series of Dr. Plotzker's Mind.  Just a talking head, but always pensive.  My expressive writing could be better.  Went to the beach twice, as planned.  Celebrated a 90th birthday with a neighbor.  My Space has an emptier look, though far from its visionary ideal.  

Labor Day makes for a good demarcation point.  I watched a little college football, but nothing to get me mentally engaged, as the first few weeks tend to be programmed mismatches to give the underdog team and incentive and the dominant one confidence. Probably attend a college game this fall.  I do not exchange clothing until mid-October, but long pants and collared shirts become the norm.  OLLI classes begin right after Labor Day.  Then some minor medical care, with the big medical care closer to Thanksgiving.  There are always the Holy Days which have not really enhanced my spirits as the Rabbis say they should.  Fall always invites a day trip or two.  Garden harvest, not much this year.  Garden cleanup, too much this year.  Get the snow blower ready later in the season.  Do my best to get the fireplace usable.  Fall also has its element of thinking ahead to when the season has elapsed.

The Lazy Days of summer, not all that lazy for me, move along to a more businesslike few months.  I think I'm ready.

Hematoma

 

Platelet donations have had some recent misadventures.  For a while my hemoglobin did not measure up to their standards.  Lab testing showed iron deficiency, for which I added a multivitamin with 18 mg iron and set up a GI investigation.  A few weeks later, the Blood Bank of Delmarva's desktop hemocytometer displayed my Hb at 14.7 g/dl, which is wrong, as were some of the previous borderline low ones.  It all comes out in the wash.  They prepped me for a donation.  The left antecubital vein has become less of a standout than the right, but still easily accessible for an experienced phlebotomist.  They accessed it, assigning it the afferent arm.  Shortly into the donation it clogged and could not be successfully repositioned.  I was sent home.

Back in less than three weeks for another go.  Due to some elbow pain on squeezing with my left hand, I opted to have the left are as the efferent side to receive the RBC's after the machine extracted the platelets and plasma.  No problem.  Set Netflix to Queer Eye visits Japan.  All systems go.  Felt good squeezing with my right hand.  It seemed to take longer than usual.  With seven minutes to go on the second episode of Queer Eye the TV streaming failed, leaving me alone with my mind and a digital clock that I could see on the far wall.

Like many places, the Blood Bank seemed short-staffed, especially in the cavernous bleeding room divided by the type of donation and the machines required for them.  After checking up on me with less frequency, my last encounter was receiving one of their white blankets as prolonged donations usually leave donors a bit chilled.  My nurse disappeared.  Ordinarily, the collecting machine would signal some type of violation, for which an attendant would check the screen, push a button, and the sound would go off.  No signals, so nobody came by to check me.  I glanced at the bag of collected plasma to my left. It appeared pretty full.  My right hand became sore from squeezing the inflatable ball for so long.  And then my left anterior elbow began to get sore, and then more sore.  The machine finally signalled, bringing the attendant over.  He checked the time, estimated another two minutes, then came back to close off the afferent line.  I mentioned the pain at my left IV site.  He lifted the bandage to find a pretty impressive infiltration hematoma.  I did not really need any more of the few RBC's not already returned, and they weren't going into the antecubital vein anyway, so he shut down the line, removed the needle, called over a more experienced colleague, and applied a compress.  The afferent line was then removed and compressed in the more conventional way, while a freeze gel pack was placed over the injured antecubital fossa.  Pain resolved as soon as the needle was removed.  Swelling took a little longer.  By the time they put the final sterile compress on, the swelling had greatly diminished, discoloration started, and I went on my way to their canteen for coffee and two oatmeal raisin cookies, then home.  And-they gave me a new t-shirt and a discount coupon for a beer at our nearby Two Stones Pub.

Ancestral Resting Places

This set of semi-annual projects includes a very finite one, visiting all three cemeteries where my grandparents and parents spend eternity.  Two of three now done, both as day trips.  This began at the time of need, as my father's younger brother fell victim at the Battle of the Bulge.  His grandfather joined a few years later, then my father's parents about ten years after that, one each beside their fallen son.  Then about fifteen years later, my father's brother-in-law whose name my son carries, then finally my father's sister.  Six in all.  This place, known as Cedar Park and Beth El has been better maintained than Beth David, a much larger place just outside NYC where my maternal relatives are buried.  We found our way to the main building, in the process of having a major annex built.  Helpful attendant gave us clear directions to the plot, able to park our car nearby without making that street unavailable to other cars.  

They had rules.  For our section, a family marker, ours engraved with both surnames.  Only foot stones in front of each family marker.  My uncle's from 1945 was the only one raised above the surface of the grass, and in pristine condition.  The other five markers were placed flush with the ground.  No overgrown and unkempt yew trees anywhere.  Some family markers had them adjacent to the granite and were kept in an attractive conical trim.  Our site did not.  The grounds overall look more as a park.  Maintenance people were at work as we came by.  While they mowed regularly, the exit shoots of the mower discharged clippings onto the graves, which settled selectively over the markers.  While the markers were flush with the ground, sod and roots from the adjacent grass crept around the perimeter of each foot marker.  Thus on arrival, the only marker I could read was my uncle's.  

My wife and I removed grass clipping from each of the five obscured stones.  Some clippings settled and decomposed in the carved lettering itself.  With the blade of my Swiss Army knife, I made an attempt to trim the sod that had crept over the edges of each marker, but this task really needed a better tool, either a razor knife or scissors.  A brush to dislodge the clippings that had settled in the lettering would have made them much more legible.

I returned to the car, left a message with my cousin in Florida, the eldest surviving son of his parents who were buried there, that we had visited and did our best to offer some maintenance.

That leaves one more, that one a plane ride away.  I have tickets to complete this semiannual project.