As we walked in, a little girl in the riding seat of a cart was pummeling her brother lying down in the otherwise empty cart. Mom either didn’t see or was not bothered by this. In the vastness of the grocery section of the remodeled Sunnyvale Target, a small child was whining ‘Cookie, COO-kie’ in ever more desperate tones to his oblivious parents. The rest of us wanted to go over and have a serious discussion with him about You Better Not Shout, I’m Telling You Why.

The frozen section extended as far as the eye could see. They have organic bourbon vanilla ice cream. I think they have every frozen food known to man. Boursin cheese, sweet Italian sausage. Fresh fruit and veggies.

I only needed some Hershey’s kisses for peanut butter blossom cookies. Did I want plain, caramel-filled, peppermint pieces, Irish coffee or mint? When we staggered out of there, we had four of five bags of stuff.

After completely changing the feeder scene yesterday (removal of regular tray, seeds and cornmeal mix), I wanted to see how long it would take before the juncos, chickadees and lone wren recognized a new food form (the spreadable suet mentioned a couple of posts back). Of course this was set on different seasonal props.

The spritely wren made hungry sounds, and dug in shortly after I left the table. Within the hour, the juncos were cautiously trying out the new treat. The chickadees, used to a quick fly-in-and-out, were slower, but also caught on.

I put a fresh poinsettia bloom on the hummingbird’s round, saucer-shaped feeder about an hour ago. Looked very festive. Sparky flew in, checked it out, took off. He did this several times even though I left a feeder hole prominently accessible. The last two times he checked, he came over to the window where I work, and hovered. I told him to figure it out. Perhaps in a couple of hours, when he is good and hungry, I’ll present the small hand-held feeder. He gave it a serious look the last time I held it out, but then he had all the feeder holes open.

Just now, he flew by his old feeder location under the roof overhang and set the wire hanger to swinging back and forth. He’s pretty ticked off. I’ll probably relent and remove the offending poinsettia.

I was out for orange juice, although it may be a bit late for the family member down with a cold. Heading to the parking lot, I encountered a fellow striding briskly toward the store. He made a kind of flapping sound with one foot, and when he got closer, I saw a white plastic bag stuck to his shoe.

He didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t look like the sort of person you’d want to go up to and say, ‘Uh, look, there’s a bag on your shoe. And everyone is looking because it’s making a lot of noise.’

So I came home with two large containers of juice and a pack of Ace bandages, the new kind that doesn’t need the sharp little grippers that I hated. I never know when one of my thumbs is going out of whack, and it’s good to be prepared. I’ve spent many weeks with sore thumbs, one from repetitive use, the other from multiple lacerations brought on by pruning of overgrown ivy and honeysuckle vines.

I’m just sure that I’m going to catch the cold as well, two weeks before Christmas.

The juncos were upset, as usual, when I removed their usual feeder of seeds. A chickadee flew in, and when I opened my hand to reveal peanuts, it hopped on and took one.

Rearranging props for another photo session involves brooming off the table, then setting forth more bird munchies. I’m still working with Christmas props, and I guess I’d better hurry because tomorrow, rain is coming. Not only that, my living props of poinsettias and other holiday plants are looking a little worn.

I’ve been meaning to make a batch of suet, and now that it dips into the low 30s at night, it was time. I used a recipe from here, and mixed shortening with peanut butter and cornmeal with a little oatmeal. I could form the resulting mass into small balls. They looked a lot like the peanut butter balls I used to make for the kids.

Some people spread this mix onto tree trunks and branches. Hahahahahahaha. Do the squirrels really need further fattening?

It didn’t take long for the birds to decide they really, really like suet.

A sequence of frames from footage I took a few days ago. When I figure out how to embed video in the blog, you’ll be the first to know.

The chickadees are bullied by the juncos, but once in a while, they manage to feed in peace.

They drop a lot of their food. Sometimes they manage to recover it.

You might have thought it too big for a tiny chickadee to handle.

The family member who is a father had chosen Park Chow as his preferred place to dine on the week-early Father’s Day celebration last Sunday. Another family member, the Seattle one, is on call on the actual date, so we made do.

As we prepared to circle the block once more, hoping someone would leave, a slot opened up at just the right moment. After we parked, we realized it would be hard to forget where we were leaving the car.

Sure, he looks innocent here, but he’s merely taking a deep, cleansing breath before inhaling most of the food.

After he and his male peers finished flinging food around, I decided to take another approach. The towhees are the largest birds to come to the feeding table. Part of their food strategy is to scratch around, and I’ve tried to modify this behavior through the judicious use of a cowbell-like noisemaker.

This is a bird that jumps in fear when a big morsel of food (that it has just gotten and dropped) rolls on the table a bit. I thought maybe if I applied a loud noise when it started flinging, it would learn that this was inappropriate behavior. Silly me.

It took a couple of days. Soon, the towhee only turned around slightly when it heard the noise. Cornmeal flew everywhere.

Today, guess who was the first to line up at dawn. (I bring the food indoors at night.) But this time, I moved the cornmeal dish slightly under a flowering plant on the table. The smaller birds could reach the food easily. The towhee could too, but flinging would require some acrobatic maneuvering.

By late afternoon, it had figured things out. Tomorrow is another day.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not real fond of the rat crowd scenes in Ratatouille and The Tale of Despereaux. While there are many who feel that squirrels are very cutesy-poo, I beg to differ. Rather, I consider squirrels to be, very simply, rats with bushy tails, and there are others who agree wholeheartedly. Which is why I scream when one edges onto my birdfeeding table.

But back to rats. Here’s one that found its way into a hapless UK gentleman’s life in a manner most unusual.

I talk to this bird a lot. Sometimes I say, ‘Do you think you can get a little more in there?’ (It can. Because there’s peanut butter in the mix, it has learned that breadcrumbs and seed will adhere to the main gob.)

And yes, I know that little dish serves the small birds well, but is way tiny for the big guys. I’m working on it. To think that once upon a time, the towhees were too shy to come feed on the table. And I’m still trying to figure out how to take decent photos through the window, which has a fine coating of cornmeal from the multiple flingings of these same towhees, despite my constant windexing.

The California towhee’s normal foraging behavior consists of scratching the ground with both feet to uncover tasty bits under leaves and other debris. While this works well in its natural environment, it wreaks havoc in a feeding station.

Yesterday, I cleaned the whole area where I leave bird food. Turns out the raisin bread crumbs gave some of them the runs. As certain family members would put it, kinda like having to go to the restroom before even leaving the restaurant.

Then I ran errands. Upon my return, something had urinated on the table. I suspect the squirrels, which keep watch on my comings and goings. Then the towhees came, and sent the cornmeal flying in all directions. This irritates me no end.

When I started feeding the birds, only a few juncos showed up. Now it’s wildly successful, with accompanying problems. When I leave, I have to cover the food.

This morning when I got back from more errands, I got a glimpse of the departing squirrel, who had managed to remove the cover, which was weighed down with the ceramic seagull. No matter, I have figured out a solution. More later.

Next to the feeder table, which is full of seeds and other tasty fare, is another table where I put the seeds I’m getting ready to plant. Well, there’s other stuff there too, an old semi-broken tabletop fountain, assorted hose nozzles, the odd cactus. But right in the middle is a container full of hollyhock seed pods from last fall.

What keeps me from planting them? There were pink hollyhocks and white ones. I forgot which is which. But today, I noted the heavy bird traffic to this table, mostly juncos. They’re after the hollyhock seeds, maybe as a palate cleanser to all that peanut butter and cornmeal.

If I get those seeds planted, there should be plenty of extras to go around by late summer.

Known as brown milk among my family members, it is proving to be better than your average sports drink for muscle recovery after strenuous activity.

The idea was for an afternoon of art supply shopping and photo prop hunting. However, the sprinkles here turned into real rain in SF, and never let up. I had the wrong shoes for puddle-jumping, and decided props could wait another day. Mostly, I was hungry.

There are times when the family cook (me) rebels, and on such a blustery, wet day, wants pot roast and mashed potatoes, or some such comforting equivalent. We were, I thought, in the vicinity of Mel’s, good for quick, if somewhat mediocre, fulfillment.

The family member who was driving thought that either Mel’s had moved or had gone out of business. This seemed unlikely(there are three the last time I checked). But the rain became a torrential downpour, so we headed out of the city into an even worse storm, the kind known as a gullywasher where I come from. Visibility was frighteningly low in broad daylight.

But so much rain in May can only quiet the water-rationing types, if only for a little while.

Not having seen a romantic movie in a long, long time, I went into this knowing reviews were tepid. However, Richard Gere is aging well, and I got through 2/3 of the movie before complaining that it was getting too Nicholas Sparky, mostly because I kept hoping it would get better.

Dinner was a non-event, being a Carl’s Famous Star. The big deal there was that I managed to eat the whole thing including mayo but minus the pickles without getting a single hive.

Thai sculptor Kittiwat Unarrom uses bread dough as a medium, producing realistic torsos, heads and other body parts. Via CoolHunting.

Watched the first half last night, finished up tonight. I had steeled myself for massive amounts of violence, and was pleasantly surprised.

For dinner, I took last night’s tri tip, sliced it up and briefly cooked it with potatoes, onions, carrots and cauliflower. Because I put the onions under the meat as it roasted, they had some added punch. The carrots were roasted today, and I’m afraid I ate a goodly amount of them before they could be added. Thanks, Chris, for introducing us to roasted vegetables.

Some of you will go, ‘Ewwwww, how gross is that.’ Others will say, ‘Mmmmm, sardines.’ Still others would say, ‘But is that it?’

Well, no. There was the olive oil potato salad, which will have to do till I start making my own mayo, because I can’t deal with the vinegar in bought mayonnaise. I will do this soon, I miss mayo, especially in potato salad. So I wound up not finishing the sardines. Then later, I had some blueberry cobbler, which was not photogenic at all, but quite good.

Then I went out and bought more prop dishes.

This morning, besides the usual flaxseed meal, a banana, salt and some scrapings from a block of bittersweet 100% cacao chocolate. The result is not a pretty sight, but should get me through the morning, especially the prop-hunting session.

I keep my cornstarch in a container exactly like the one that holds powdered sugar. Years ago, I labeled them, C for the starch, CS, for confectioner’s sugar. You might think I would use somewhat different names. This afternoon I made a blueberry peach cobbler with the Splenda that is part real sugar. It was fine, but slightly under-sweetened. It was not photogenic enough, but tasty all the same.

So for dessert, I shook a couple of tablespoons of powdered sugar over the top. Or so I thought. Sigh.

It’s a very white dessert now.

Somehow I missed this when it first hit the intertubes. Just looking at the step-by-step photos is enough to make more than a few arteries constrict in fear.

I actually have all the ingredients on hand to make this. But I seriously doubt I will.

I’ve been meaning to see this, but kept putting it off, knowing it would be an emotional wringer. It had gotten excellent reviews and when I saw it at the library sale, I knew it was a keeper.

As a dinner movie, it didn’t work so well. It begins with the death of the heroine’s mother with subsequent scenes of the girl dealing with her grief. A lump in the throat makes eating a bit difficult. While the story is based on reality, the insertion of a child is a Hollywood invention, but one that works wonderfully well.

Looking at the geese closeup in flight put me in mind of Winged Migration, and I wondered if this film was a source of inspiration for its conception.

The flocks of Canada geese that regularly visit the junior high grounds are back. Now I know I’m going to head over one day and get some pictures.

Dinner? Meat loaf and cauliflower and sugarless apple pie for dessert.

I needed some for a few food shots. Costco had them by the pound, but upon closer inspection, they were somewhat sad looking, dried and definitely lacking the glisten I was hoping for. However, at Trader Joe’s, a small container was sufficient, with enough sparkle to lend some life to an otherwise bland shot.

Why did I not just buy some pomegranates and scoop out my own? I was busy polishing spoons and forks when I wasn’t trying out my new iron on the large quantities of old linens in my prop boxes.

The Trader Joe skinless, boneless ones in olive oil. With crackers and some steamed cauliflower. A light lunch, but it works for now.

So far, the New Year resolution of fish twice a week is working (is it still only January?). My mom used to cook fresh smelts, and we weren’t given the choice of turning up our noses. I hadn’t eaten canned sardines in years. When I got to college, I found that the fastest way to clear a dorm room was to open up a can. But it helped me get through the dinner hour, and was certainly better than the vending machine sandwiches that had a hint of some sort of meat in the filling.

From Metafilter, some suggestions on how to eat those sardines.

The Bruce Willis/Richard Gere one. The library was having a by-the-bag sale, and I tossed it in - why not. We had to keep turning the sound down, but it seemed as if we were turning it higher. Not such a bad film, if you’re easily entertained. I skipped part of the middle, and went back for the finish. Sadly, I’m the only one in the family who likes Richard.

For dinner, I made two potato soups, one with milk, one with Rice Dream. Mine was the watery looking, Rice Dreamy tasting one. Next time I’ll have to add some stuff to enhance the flavors a bit. It was still nice to have a carby soup to go with the cold crab, which was very fresh and tasty.

While we were waiting for our crabs (2.99/lb, one day only), an energetic customer at the live fish tank was shouting his order to the non-English-speaking clerk, ‘Tilapia! One tilapia! TI-LAP-I-A! Come on, man. It’s got to be close to the same in all languages!’

The next time I get sick, Wall-E goes in the player. For sure, I’ll feel lots better. When he is fully charged up with solar power, he makes the Mac startup sound. That and a thousand other touches make it a wonderful thing.

Leftover spaghetti (the whole wheat kind) and steamed broccoli. Oh yes, we are eating healthy around here.

Of course there was torture in the movie. Every film I watch lately has some, almost as essential as a soundtrack, it seems.

Dinner I took some care with. A few days ago I brined the pork chops, and then because there were other things to eat, didn’t get around to cooking them till tonight. I browned, then simmered them in a garlic broth, which I later reduced. Then I sauteed some zucchini with curry powder. Reheated some small white beans. Added sliced mushrooms to the meat pan juices. Thank goodness we ate during the first part of the movie.

Netflix should have a special notation on films like this. Something along the lines of ‘long, lingering closeups of torture with accompanying prolonged screaming’. Because they should. Would I have watched had there been such a warning? No. I left the room at the line, ‘Give them five minutes, then shoot him in the knee.’ And this wasn’t the one being tortured.

But I came back to watch the end. Most of it is very, very good.

Then there was apple pie, also very good for a sugarless pie.

Two well-brined thick pork chops
Four chickens, raw
One vat of pot roast
Mustard greens
Snow Peas
Fresh shiitake mushrooms

The chickens? While sick, I really wanted some chicken soup. Poaching is something even a sickie could do. You just never know when you might need some good homemade soup, and this way, I can freeze up a lot. Winter’s not quite over yet.

Plus, I had ample time to look through some new cookbooks, some with wondrous recipes for roast chicken.

Having looked through the photo essay book, No Reservations, over the weekend, I retired at about 6:30 p.m. last night with The Nasty Bits. My system is still trying to get used to the new meds, and was in the process of rejecting the lovely salmon dinner. No fair, the appetite just came back a day or so ago.

The portion I read is excerpted here.

Luckily, there was a copy of Sense and Sensibility nearby, and I dove into it as if my life depended on it.

The names were committed to memory: Fra’mani, Boccalone and the restaurant La Ciccia. A family member in Seattle had every intention of visiting Salumi, the cured meats establishment favorited by no less than Anthony Bourdain.

Alas, a snowstorm thwarted the Seattle effort. The family member flew out of Seattle in the nick of time, just before another storm.

The Fra’mani was found at the Berkeley Bowl. A quick trip to the Ferry Building netted a sampler box of Boccalone salamis. A reservation at the restaurant was not to be had, but it is in the plan for the new year.

The recipient was surprised and happy.

Most of the older actors are gone, Redford and Hoffman are rail-thin, but the film stands the test of time very admirably.

I actually needed one of the healing movies we keep around, Red October, Sneakers, etc, so I could mumble along with the dialogue. My choice had been Jumping Jack Flash, but we weren’t sure how to reconnect the vcr. So we watch ATPM on my Mac.

Leftovers for dinner, and because I haven’t eaten much in almost a week, peach pie for dessert.

The good news, of course, is that the antibiotics knock out the bacteria pretty fast. On the down side, the side effects can be annoying. For this one, I’ve had headache, lightheadedness, nausea and for a short time, the red pee.

Even though I’ve spent the morning looking at food photos, there’s no appetite. Just the queasiness. But yesterday, I bought four cans of Select Harvest chicken noodle soup by Campbell’s. If it was featured in the latest Real Simple, it must be okay. No msg, says the label.

Not bad, not too salty.

The Masterpiece Theater version with Rupert Penry-Jones as Captain Wentworth and Sally Hawkins as Anne Elliot. Just perfect for New Year’s Eve, spent quietly recovering from a nasty bug. I’m getting to a very exciting episode in Battlestar Galactica, but don’t need something quite so dark.

After eating nothing but soup all day, steak and a baked potato was a no-brainer.

All I had yesterday was a banana and a boiled egg. By suppertime, I dispatched a family member to get turkey soup at Whole Foods.

There was no soup, only turkey stew. It was sludgy, tasting of cafeteria food. Hot, but not palatable. I ate a clementine instead.

Today, I reached in the back of the freezer and pulled out a container of frozen chicken soup, at least a year old. It was just the thing. Between that and the meds, I should be back to normal by tomorrow.

Oh, and while I was in the freezer, I took out two steaks.

We ran into a few, notably the fellow this afternoon at Trader Joe’s. I needed eggs, waiting patiently as he examined them. Then he examined some more. Being a hefty guy, he took up all the space in front of the egg display. I waited and rolled my eyes. He picked up yet another carton. He made no move to put anything in his cart. I gave up and moved on.

At Whole Foods a few days ago, I needed an item that was blocked by a woman on the phone. She was deep in conversation and had a list that was a legal-size sheet of paper, writing on both sides. Apparently there was some question about the price of needed items. If this was truly a concern, she was in the wrong store. Still, she loudly expressed her views on this and that, here and there, politics, religion - the while blocking my way. I decided that she would have been more organized had she not spent the last 45 hours working on her hair.

Usually by this time each year, there will have been several batches of fudge, chocolate-covered nuts and cashew nut brittles made and delivered to office functions, neighbors, friends, etc. But this year, in the spirit of cutting back (and the realization that said treats contain ingredients not on my list of allowed foods), I haven’t begun the process. I’m actually very pleased about this.

But having gotten at least a week behind on the whole holiday scramble, I’m starting to make a little progress today. The tree is almost trimmed. It’s too bushy at the top third for most ornaments, too sparse on the lower two-thirds for words. In a bit, I will begin the present-wrapping. I am printing out Christmas cards. They might arrive on time.

Do you have a small kitchen? No counter space, like me? Are you a food writer and author of books about food? Maybe you should take a look at this.

After a really long day of shopping in Berkeley and SF, we actually planned to go to La Ciccia, having heard of their house-made salumi.

But that was not to be at 7:00 on a Saturday night when we were all running on empty. Park Chow promised only a 15-minute wait. The considerable crowd outside the restaurant promised otherwise. Luckily, it wasn’t that cold, and it wasn’t raining. After a time, one impatient gentleman began grumbling loudly, ‘Tell them to eat faster.’ Large parties were seated. We waited some more. I double-checked the menu, only to be told by a family member that there was little question what I would be ordering.

From time to time, one of us will get a pasta or some fish. Inevitably, the rest of us will get the short ribs. The ribs come in three sizes, depending on the appetite, and are served over mashed potatoes. Not a real hearty serving of mashed, but adequate. The lone holdout will spend the meal gazing at the short ribs enviously.

Saturday, we all wanted comfort. Eventually, we were seated (fairly close to the fireplace), and were told that we would be getting two free appetizers due to our wait that had turned into 25 minutes. Service was very attentive, the food appeared quickly, the ribs meltingly tender.

We were in SF for some shopping, and needed a little something to fortify us for the duration. More and more people squeezed into the tiny space. An elderly gentleman seemed to be a regular, and like us, waited patiently for his order. From time to time he greeted other customers.

Another white-haired fellow breezed in, went straight up to him and said, ‘Hey, aren’t you Bernie Madoff?’

The first guy was a bit taken aback. But a minute or so later, he took off after the other, who was back examining the vast cheese selection. ‘Hey you,’ he shouted. ‘You look more like him than I do!’

Just what I need at Christmas time, 36,000 guests, hungry and clamoring to be seated at my huge container of photogenic candies.

Luckily, I have a large bottle of orange oil concentrate, which has dispersed the bulk of them rather quickly, and makes the house smell good as well. But it also means going out in the 36° temps to saturate the house perimeter, which is not that much fun.

Seeing those excellent food blogs means I should stop dragging my feet and get going on my own. I stopped photographing food for months, thanks to all the allergy problems, but now that it’s Christmas, I’m starting to get a spark of interest again.

Some old favorites on Bon Appetit’s list, via the NYT. Not only are they excellent foodies, but they’ve got the scrumptious photography skills as well.

My triglycerides are kinda high. After find out that flax seed would be a helpful addition to my diet, I went looking for it at the grocery store. When I asked a clerk where to find it, she looked blank and said, ‘What’s flax seed?’

I found it in the cereal section. It makes my morning oatmeal a little thicker, and will help me get a little thinner, along with many other benefits.

When the lab person printed out the stickers to go on the blood vials, I thought, no way. It was a very, very long strip. Longer than anyone else’s in the mostly filled waiting room.

But, as I said, I got into the Coben book and was transfixed by the page-turning wonder that it is. When I realized that people with numbers higher than mine were being processed, I dashed in to take a seat in a cubicle.

Long ago, I learned not to look. Maybe it was during one of my pregnancies when they would take 3 vials of blood at a time. The technician seemed to be taking a really long time. He was not a talker. I had not eaten since 7:00 last night.

Luckily, there was a distraction. The man next to me was being told he had to stay for three hours in the waiting room after. He was not happy. He said he’d just go around the corner and get some coffee. The technician said no, he could not leave the building. I was still pondering what his problem might be when my silent blood person seemed to be finishing up.

Lined up neatly were five vials. Four were for the allergist. I went home to eat. Meat. It’s on the list of approved foods.

My allergist handed me a list of foods yesterday. Since I broke out in hives from almost everything I’ve eaten lately, I was expecting the worst, but still, it was depressing. So here are a few of them:

Apples
Peaches
Grapes
Oranges
Apricots
Strawberries
Raspberries
Nectarines (there goes summer)
Tomatoes
Peppers
Cherries
Ice cream (well, I knew that)
Gum
Jam or Jelly
Lunch meats such as salami
Bakery items
Diet drinks (what!) except for 7-up and some Hansen’s natural soft drinks
Candies
Hot dogs

On the bright side, I am allowed:
Lemons
Dates
Bananas (hmmm, I’m not sure about those)
Pears
Dates
Figs
Melons (not sure about those either)
Meat
Eggs
Veggies
Fresh lemonade
Water
Vodka

And while this was not mentioned, I can eat 100% cacao chocolate, which is palatable to me if it is chopped and baked into scones, for example. I’m on the second piece of the afternoon. Between the chocolate and the vodka, maybe Christmas won’t be so grim after all.

After cutting up an avocado, some tomatoes and a cucumber last week, I broke out in hives. The kind that has me stumbling to the kitchen for an antihistamine in the middle of the night. I’ve cut up these veggies many times without a problem before.

I made a beef vegetable soup with carrots, onions, tomatoes, corn and peas. Ditto. I had a cup of soy chocolate milk. Ditto. I took an antihistamine with a spoonful of applesauce. The hives lasted twice as long. I ate a lot of grapes one afternoon with no apparent reaction. The day after, I ate a few grapes. Almost instant hives.

Clearly, I needed some expert advice and allergy testing. Today, I met my allergist. She checked me out before setting up some skin tests, but she wanted to make sure I was up to it. She made some slight marks on my arm with the back of her fingernail and waited. Within a couple of minutes the marks got redder and raised. Not hives, but enough to tell her I could not do the skin tests.

More later.

It’s cute, but I’m keenly disappointed that the monkey-picked tea is out of stock.

Once in a while, I get a stack of Cook’s Illustrated magazines for nighttime reading. Because the photos are black and white, there’s less of an urge to eat a little something, which happens when I go through a regular cookbook.

In the January issue, there’s an article comparing dark chocolates. My lactose intolerance won’t allow me to eat milk chocolate anymore, but I don’t really like the dark. However, at Safeway the other night, I found a bar of Ghirardelli 100% cacao. For not very much. I’m pretty sure I can eat this, but whether it’s enjoyable or not is another matter.

The article rates Ghirardelli’s bittersweet chocolate baking bar second to Callebaut’s intense dark chocolate. Interesting to note that Scharffen Berger (which I don’t like) is way down the list, as are Guittard and El Rey. Here’s part of the article. The rest you have to sign up for, but I’ve given the more important results.