I am guilty of what rather vulgarly called 'the butt call'. I am also guilty of using the phrase, and have been asked by many who are not on this side of the pond, "What?" My habit of not making sure the screen is locked before putting it in my bag, or making a fist around it when I am walking and do not have pockets, has become almost a trademark. Wrong numbers, being the 'last call' regularly get a return wrong number call.
Some days are worse than others, and some weeks just seem to be full of discrepancies!
The post office on Monday was very busy. Tuesday was 'Tax Day' and all documents mailed had to have a post mark on or before said date. I was mailing a certified letter to somewhere 'other than' where the majority were sending their bits of post. "I will check the amount, but you will have it right. You know the prices better than me", said the clerk at the post office. It always makes me laugh when they give me credit. I assumed the lack of clerks at the counter at one of their busiest hours, was due to the fact that the following day they would be open until midnight, postmarking all those envelopes that were brought into facility after the 'last collection' time marked on the free standing post boxes around and about!
Another aspect of 'Tax Day' is that it is rather quiet. Over the years, I have noticed that 'T-day' and the day after, our intake is slightly slower. This was a good thing for me, as I had to prepare for anywhere between six to sixteen guests on Thursday evening.
I arose Tuesday raring to go. I had made a list! I didn't expect to stick to the list but 'made it I'! After making some sweet shortcrust pastry cases, I set about making the lemon curd and coffee-chocolate pudding (as it is referred to by my husband) and cut up some vegetables so that I had less prep to do on Thursday. As predicted, the day was not as busy as we have been accustomed, and we left the office rather early. My kitchen was rather a mess and whilst dinner was cooking, I managed to clear away ready for the next round the following morning.
Interestingly enough, although I left England during a time when both metric and imperial measurements were being used, most of my cookery books are quite old, and only show imperial measurements. Some of the newer acquisitions have both. Most anything that I have borrowed from more recent times, are only in metric. My scales measure in several options. However, if the recipe is in grams, despite measuring everything in grams, (and therefore, not having to calculate or estimate,) I still do not feel comfortable. At 5:30 a.m., on Wednesday, I was using grams and distinctly unhappy about the whole process.
After following my own instructions, I completed all the tasks on my list and then realised that apart from the six to sixteen that were coming on Thursday, I had my regular Wednesday night visitors to feed that evening. With all the food that I was preparing for Thursday, I had forgotten about Wednesday. Spanish meatballs to the rescue! (These do not have an ounce of chipotle, nor jalapeno in the original recipe, but the only olives I had available were stuffed with the latter, so I would presume I could rename them!) After putting everything in the crock pot, I left for Joe's!
"What! no baked goods this morning?" came the cheeky question from one of Joe's staff. I apologised, quite seriously, but as he saw my candidness, he apologised for teasing. However, at the same time of his apology, his colleague rounded the corner and said, "What! no baked goods for us to sample!" The former employee attempted to make light of the situation and, fortunately, I was not too overwhelmed to see the funny side of it. I explained why there was no 'desserts', (I am always amused at the phrase 'baked goods',) and they were very gracious! Desserts are known as 'sweets', a term my father used to use. "What is for sweet?" he would ask. However, as we know, 'sweets' to me are 'candy' to those around me, and so on and so forth.
My trip back to the office was via the radio station. This time it was in Austin. It was the station with the 'transposed' initials! MotoGP was at the Circuit of the Americas, and I had won three day passes for two people. Much as I would have enjoyed the event, Dana would not, and the only day that would have bee viable for me would have been Sunday. Samantha said that Edward had expressed an interest in going to the race on Sunday, so she had claimed two tickets. Jerry's son's boss (not quite tongue twister) is an avid fan, so I planned to give him the other four.
Upon my route returning to the office, I remembered that I had forgotten (never a good thing to remember) to ask Joe for a 'white chocolate latte' for my connoisseur daughter and so instead of turning right at the traffic lights to take me to the office, I made a detour, left, to the local Starbucks. The drive-thru was not an option, as if I had turned I would have created a traffic hazard by blocking oncoming cars. I drove in to the parking area, drove around and back again, as it was so busy. I was amazed that at 9:45am, this facility was so well attended, but apparently, it is always completely full! I stood in line. A young girl and her mother came up behind me. "No ma'am", was the girl's answer to the question, "Would you like?" I smiled. I could never imagine using the word 'ma'am' in any instance, when talking to my mother. "Please" and "Thank you", were the expected suffixes, as they are still! Dana and I have often had this conversation. "How did you show respect?" is answered with "By saying please, and thank you!" However, the young girl did use a phrase that was always countered with "I want gets nothing!" when I was a child. "I want a bantum bagel. I want two bantum bagels and a cake pop. I want two bantum bagels.....". At this her mother stopped her. "It is a snack. We are having lunch soon. A snack. One bantum bagel and a cake pop!" I was out of my league. A what bagel? "No ma'am. Two bantum bagels, a cake pop and a ......". Negotiations were in full swing, and it appeared that as long as she put the word 'ma'am' after the word 'no', it was acceptable. Back and forth they went, but as they were behind me, I had no idea what transpired at the counter!
I left work early. It was another quiet day, and I had to make some desserts, sweet as they were going to be. I could not steal from my Thursday night preparations, and made a batch of new pastry, and a key lime pie mixture. The meatballs had cooked themselves and were simmering. With guests arriving at 7pm, I was a little overwhelmed at 6:30! I was on my knees on the kitchen floor, with my giant pastry board in front of me, rolling out dough. Thank goodness for an oversized board! ! Seventy two cheese pastry cases were placed in the fridge, ready for the next morning, and twenty four gluten free cases for a couple of neighbours who are so inclined. I told Dana to keep my guests out of the kitchen area, and dinner would be about ten minutes late, and my mixer was in the middle of the walkspace, whipping cream!
Ten minutes was all that was needed on Wednesday evening. Dinner was a success, but anything I prepare appears to be accepted. I have heard it said that the best meals eaten are those not prepared by yourself! I rose early Thursday and followed another list of instructions. I was going to be late for work, but I felt I was in control. My wonderful daughter mashed the potatoes for the shepherd's pie, and fish pie, and so as we would know the difference, scored the top of the meat dish with the usual fork 'railway' tracks, and wrote 'FiSH' on the other! Such a clever girl. She must get her brightness from her mother!
Work was steady, and I left at a little before four. At a few minutes before five, I received a phone call from an Austin number, but one that was unknown. It was a neighbour. "Did you go to the pool today?" I replied that I did not. He said that I should. Slightly stunned, I reminded him, politely, and hopefully without the ire that was starting to unnecessarily arise, that I was cooking for the neighbourhood, and had been at work all day. He responded that he knew, and wanted to know what time to arrive. "Did I not put it in the invite?" I asked, as I chopped apples, wondering why people do not read their correspondence. "No", came the unexpected answer. Whoops! Had I had the time, I would have apologised more profusely, but he did not seem to be offended by my response, so I imagine the 'politeness' shone through. I immediately deleted the number so as not to 'butt call'. Dana arrived home at around 6:15, and all was starting to fall apart. I had lost a nozzle! How could I pipe cream into my desserts without the extra nozzle. He could not purchase one at Randall's as they do not have the required size, and I had to give myself a 'stiff talking to' in order to think straight. Disaster averted, due to some common sense thinking, I continued with my plan and took Dana up on his offer to help. "Wash up" came the command, and he did!
"Wow, I have literally walked into the Great British Bake Off. This is what I have been so excited about!" came the expression of awe from my neighbour, Jenny. It was music to my ears. I had, as usual, put the desserts on the desk in my living room, which was covered with a bright red cloth. Cream horns, caramel covered profiteroles, meringue baskets, and pastry cases filled with lemon cream, chocolate mocha cream, and apple (atop a caramel base). On the table in the dining room were sausage rolls, pepper filled puff pastries, mushroom vol-au-vents, salmon mousse, two lots of individual quiches, (both with home made salsa fillings,) and the salmon rissoles. In the kitchen were the pies, and a pepper stew for my non-meat eating guest.
Twelve of us enjoyed the repast and I was very happy with the results. I was thanked for the feast and I thanked them for indulging me. My neighbours were quite amused at my gratitude for having them be my guinea pigs, and realised why I had declined when they offered to 'bring a dish'. "D'y'all eat like this in England. Y'all don't have the reputation for being good cooks?" was one comment. Admittedly, the said 'Bake-off' programme put that little rumour 'to bed' so to speak, but I did explain that before the advent of the 'Cordon Bleu in 76 weekly installments', and other elements, the focus was on 'hearty', and 'substantial', or at least that is what I believe. 'Out of the ordinary' was mainly for special occasions, and then it was sometimes too expensive to experiment. Although there was enough left for lunch, and to take to my work neighbours, everyone took a little food parcel home with them. Of course I over catered to the 'nth' degree. It is who I am! Jenny had left her bag at our house, and Dana had taken it over to her. "Tell Tracie., Adam (her husband) said the coffee dessert was the best thing he has EVER (and Dana put the emphasis on the word, as apparently she had exclaimed) tasted in his WHOLE (emphasis again) life!" I was delighted, but surprised, and quite humbly, honestly humbly, said that he must not be very worldly, although it is not the first time I have been told this. Amazingly, without blowing my own trumpet, but one cannot help it at times, this is my own recipe! It is a variation on the lemon creme, and it is in grams!
Friday was busy. Busy, busy, busy, and as much as I enjoyed leaving early on the previous two days, I worked until 8pm! We chose to pick up a sandwich from the local deli. "Where are y'all from?" asked the young lady, after she told me that she did not have an item available, due to my pronunciation. I had asked for the Pecan chicken salad, stating 'Pee-can' rather than 'P'con'. She was delighted to hear that I was from England, as she plans to study there. I told her that she would have to get used to many different dialects if she does go to study in the motherland!
My son in law celebrated his birthday on Saturday, and Samantha wanted to buy him a new barbecue grill, as theirs had 'seen better days'. We started our journey at Costco, where the options were not particularly vast. We wandered around, and came to the bread section. "But what is it?", asked a customer as the salesman was giving samples of bread. "I am not sure", came the reply. "Does it have gluten?" asked the customer. "Yes!" replied the salesman. "How do you know if you don't know what it is?" asked the customer. "Because they would say if it didn't!" said the salesman. The question, it appeared, was, "What is semolina". I came forward with an answer, feeling like the host on Jeopardy! "It is a wheat based grain type product", I said, hoping I was explaining it properly. "We used to have it as children in England. Semolina pudding. Mixed with milk. Sometimes, my mum would put chocolate in it". The lady looked impressed. The salesman simply said, "Anything is better if you put chocolate in it". The lady decided to try a piece of bread that had been made with Semolina. "Never seen it before". I pondered as to where it could be brought, and Samantha and I both said, "Sprouts!" Rule number one when shopping at home, as a child, was to never mention a competitor when in another establishment! Of course, nowadays there are so many specialty supermarkets, that the larger conglomerates will recommend other places to try. I still felt a little uneasy. I wondered if Costco sold semolina in their baking aisle. No one else seemed to bat an eyelid!
After our departure, we headed to Home Depot. I wandered around the tiling section as we are having to replace some tiles in our kitchen, and returned to see Samantha waiting for a grill to be lowered to the ground. The fork lift that was being used was exceptionally slow, presumably for safety reasons, and we waited for what seemed an eternity. Eventually, the safety screen was removed from the aisle, and the grill was placed on the trolley. It was a trolley! Not a shopping cart! As she paid, she was asked if we required help to get it into the car. We did. The man at the till called a colleague over. After a few arm flaps, and a dozen excuses he walked outside in search of a more suitable person for the job. We signaled that we were going to the car. The person to whom he called also flapped a little bit, and walked towards the exit from where we had departed, but instead of coming to our aid, he went back inside the building. It is possible that he went in search of us, but as we were standing there, waving at him, it is highly unlikely. We pushed the trolley flush with the car, steadied it with our feet, and rolled the box into the boot. "Thank you. We got it. It's okay, no help needed", we called to the non-existent helper. However, we did not take into consideration the older gentleman who was walking along the lane, and giving us rather disconcerting looks. We carried on waving to an empty space in the hope that he would realise we were not speaking to him!
"Perhaps he didn't understand us", I said. "Perhaps he did!" said Samantha!
Dana and I met the kids for dinner later that evening, and celebrated Edward's birthday without a great deal of fuss. I explained to Edward that the carrot cake he was eating was in fact 'Passion cake'. He said he did not wish to know such things, and talking 'passion' with his mother-in-law, was inappropriate. Of course, he jested, but I continued, as is my whim! "Technically, the frosting turns it from carrot cake into passion cake. There, I bet you never thought you would learn something new on your birthday when you woke up this morning". Edward looked at me as only Edward can look. "I still haven't learned anything. You have made a statement that only you can confirm. So it is not really a fact". I continued with how I knew and my fact finding mission, and he could not accept the details, as they were "English. From England". Oh the joys of not only an American son-in-law, but a genius! We all enjoyed the evening, and the cultural differences!
Next week is going to be a little different. Samantha and I will be going on our annual 'girly' weekend, and Dana will be left with the dog. Still one man down in the office, this may prove to be a challenge, but we are hoping that the 'guys' will step up and at least help with the phones, as they have done in the past. Where are we going, and will be be understood? Well that will have to be revealed in ...... another story!
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