Yesterday was a little slice of normal, except that Bob went snowshoeing with our club and I didn’t. But what I did do was cook. If I’m back in the kitchen, life can’t be all bad! For years, I’ve had a tradition of picking up Chinese takeout to feast on while watching the Oscars. I succumbed to PF Chang’s 20% off deal, but somehow always spent over $100 to feed 4. And it was bad! The “crab” Rangoon, a thick barely chewable nugget of hard dough; the chicken all fried skin in cornstarch-y cough syrup; the broccoli boiled to mush.
So, this year, I cooked it myself. I made ginger beef, sesame chicken, ginger chicken corn soup and walnut shrimp. And rice, of course. I cooked all day and then Bob ran out for wontons and eggs rolls from our local Kroger. He also found a recipe for a compatible cocktail, an Orange Blossom, mixed from gin, orange juice, lime, and grenadine which had even prettier colors than my bruised-up breast. We had quite the feast with all the fixings, including chopsticks, everything but the white boxes with the metal handles.
The kids filled their plates and wandered off. Bob and I dished up and turned on the Oscars, far enough in progress that we could fast forward through the commercials. We were having a great time until the program cut out suddenly before best picture, actress and director. Bob said, “But I taped an extra 1/2 hour!” To which I said, “A half hour? A half? This is the Oscars—they’re notorious!” Oh well. We didn’t run out of food and it was good.