The Divamom Life Love Shopping and Food Blog

Dodging Canned Ham

(The following post was originally published as a Facebook note on February 2, 2009)

Years ago, I heard a story (or maybe an urban legend?) about a wacked out fringe woman who was robbing a convenience store somewhere in the East Village; apparently she was taking items off the shelves and putting them under her shirt. The store owner saw what she was doing, and grabbed her by the arm as she was about to slip out the door - which caused a can of ham that she had taken to fall to the floor.

She immediately yelled "HELP! He's throwing groceries at me!' and caused such a ruckus that the owner looked like the one who was the aggressor, picking on a poor fringe woman. The other customers actually started yelling at him - as though he had done something wrong. And I'm sure that by the end of the episode, he might have thought so as well...I know I would have...

In the end of course - nobody won. The woman might have gotten away with stealing - but she also was forced to leave the ham behind, and go hungry (or maybe steal from another store - how inconvenient). And the store owner was subject to public ridicule or at least in the middle of an annoying disturbance, however brief it might have been .

Myth or legend or not - all of this resonates not only in matters involving convenience stores but in life in general - whether one is stealing a ham for survival or trying to get one's ham back. Someone hurts you - you hurt them to protect yourself - and no one wins...and the heart is just like a wheel "when you bend it; you can't mend it."

Unless maybe it's a movie on the Hallmark Channel - then at the end - everybody says "I love you" and even the good guys win -

and everybody gets a ham -

and they all live happily ever after...

(I'm logging off now, to make grilled cheese...)

God Bless You, Viktor Frankl

In the words of Paul Simon “Everything put together sooner or later falls apart…” Not exactly uplifting, but yesterday when someone asked why I never write about the “existential vacuum” since that’s one of the topics this blog is allegedly about – it came to mind.

“Oh great,” I thought, “people are actually reading the fine print? Fine – I’ll come up with something…”

And then the universe intervened! Oh happy day! Hallelujah!

Here is what happened: this morning I awoke with a crash (as in “was wrenched from restless sleep against my will”, and upon investigation (after a blatant and uncensored “What the [deleted expletive] was that?” discovered that one of my three cats had knocked a pasta-filled dish onto the floor so that the floor was covered with shards of glass and penne with meat sauce. Since apparently I don’t feed them enough, they began to try to eat the pasta. So after banishing them to another room – while cleaning up the mess – I thought “This is a blessing from the universe…we forgot to put the pasta away and someone would have gotten sick if they had eaten it…”

Then I thought, “This positive spin stuff is getting old fast…all we have lately around here are broken dishes and open wounds – what’s going on?”

Of course, this brought up thoughts of the Existential Vacuum which is one of the topics of this blog (allegedly, at least if you read the “description).

For those of you who are not familiar with the term – (those who were fortunate enough not to have their lives burdened by having read Viktor Frankl's Man's Search For Meaning in high school or college - or group therapy – here’s an excerpt:

"...many patients complain today, namely, the feeling of the total and ultimate meaninglessness of their lives. They lack the awareness of a meaning worth living for. They are haunted by the experience of their inner emptiness, a void within themselves."
I must admit – it was not much of a stretch for me to feel a sense of the ultimate meaningless of life when cleaning up the mess the cats had made.

First of all – how did I end up with three cats? I’m not a “cat person”… hell – I didn’t even give them kitty names like “Cookie” or “Butterscotch” or “Spot” …and I don’t think it’s cute or clever when they jump into my plants or dive across the room…
Then I thought of the analogy of the Aegean Stables.

Everyone knows that happy tale for sure: one of Hercules’ tasks was to clean the Aegean Stables which housed a mess of horses that were virtual “poop” machines; continually producing mass quantities of excrement.

Although Herc attempted repeatedly - with superhuman strength no less - to clean them, he was continually outpaced by the oh so many horses pooping faster than he could clean…so as soon as he had cleaned one corner of the stable, the other areas were again manure-laden - so he despaired.

But – as luck would have it – Hercules had an “ah ha” moment and diverted a great river through the stables – which turned into a sort of mass flush – the whole of the stables were suddenly clean at once, and his task was accomplished!

With that in mind – I went to the sink – took the hose – and sprayed all three cats that kept coming back to the glass-sharded pasta mess. For a brief moment – I felt that I had discovered the mysteries of the universe – or at least reached a new plateau…
Then of course, I had to clean the water off the floor – and the Myth of Sisyphus started all over again…

OK – next blog will be about love, food or shopping. Have a great recipe for Penne with Pink Meat Sauce and a special crunch…

Happy Monday.

Googling for Kugel

When my friend “who is like a daughter to me” Jessica Levin was turning 30, I offered my home for the party, as I live in Northern New Jersey which is halfway between New York (where several of Jessica’s friends and relatives live) and Central Jersey (where Jessica lives). Her relatives gratefully accepted and her grandmother, Nana Corbin, generously offered to help me with the cooking – which actually meant that she would get her husband (Boris) to cook and then complain about how tired she was afterwards. (I learned this secret – a variation of making reservations for dinner – when Jessica and her sisters explained it to me).

“My nana will call you,” Jessica said, “and offer to make food – but my grandfather will actually make it…but the last time I asked for kugel, he gave me frozen kugel that he bought somewhere and pretended he made it.”

This was getting more complicated by the minute, and became even more so when I finally got the call from Nana.

I’ll never forget the conversation – which was actually a 3-way call, even though only two of us were technically on the phone – Nana, me and Mr. Nana Corbin (Boris in the Background who gave a running commentary on everything Nana said, which I would have heard even without a headset).

Here’s roughly what it sounded like:

Nana C: Vicki? It’s Jessica’s grandmother – Nana Corbin – but you can call me Nana. Oh – you’re such a nice person to have the party in your house. Please – let me know what I can do…is there anything you want me to make?

Boris (in the background): See if she wants stuffed cabbaged.

Nana C: “Vicki – do you want me to make stuffed cabbage?

Me: Sure – that would be great…

Nana C (interrupting): Oh – that’s good – but I make mine unstuffed…

Boris in background (BIB): Tell her we make it unstuffed.

Nana C: I told her! Do you like it unstuffed?

Me: I’m sure it will be fine –

Nana C (interrupting): What about meatballs? I make nice meatballs…

BIB: Ask her if she wants meatballs.

Nana C (to BIB): I’m asking her now…Vicki do you want me to make meatballs?

Me: Well, actually, I’m half Swedish and half Italian – so usually make meatballs echoing each of my ethnicities…

Nana C: Oh, ok, no meatballs

BIB: No meatballs? Why doesn’t she want meatballs?

Nana C: She makes meatballs. She’s Italian.

BIB: She’s Italian? Does she want lasagna?

Nana C (to BIB): She makes meatballs. I don’t know about the lasagna.

Nana C (to me): Sweetie, do you want lasagna?

Me: No thanks – the stuffed cabbage will be fine.

Nana C: Ok, so you want the stuffed cabbage

BIB: Tell her it’s unstuffed cabbage

Nana C (to BIB): I told her!

Nana C (to me): You know it’s unstuffed…that’s how I make it…

Me: That’s great; anything you want to make is fine with me…

Nana C: There’s nothing else you need? Nothing?

BIB: Ask her if there’s anything else she needs

Nana C (to BIB): I asked her! She doesn’t want anything else…

Me: Well – actually – it would be great if you would make some kugel…I think Jessica loves it and I have no clue how to make it – I’m a shiksa

BIB (in a psychic frenzy): Ask her if she wants kugel.

Nana C (to BIB): She already asked me for kugel

Nana C (to me): Darling, do you want some kugel?

Me: Yes – I would love it if you would make kugel…

Nana C: Do you like it with or without raisins?

BIB (to Nana C): Ask her if she likes it with or without raisins.

Me: I love raisins.

Nana: Jessica hates it with raisins.

BIB (to Nana C): Jessica hates raisins in her kugel.

Nana C (to BIB): I know – I just told her…

Nana C (to me): Jessica doesn’t like it with raisins…

Me: Oh then – make it without – it’s her birthday…she should have it the way she likes it…

Nana C: But she can take them out – it’s no big deal…

BIB: She can take them out – it’s no big deal.

Nana C: Is there anything else you need, dear?

BIB: Ask her if there’s anything else she needs.

Nana C: I just asked her that!

Nana C (to me): Is there anything else you need, dear?

Me: You really don’t have to do this…

Nana C (to me): But I want to …please tell me if you need anything else at all…
(At this point, I paused to hear what BIB had to say. After 10 seconds of silence, I spoke again)

Me: Maybe if you want to make a brisket?

Nana C (to BIB): She wants a brisket.

BIB: Brisket?

Nana C (to BIB): Brisket.

Me: You don’t have to…

BIB: Brisket?

Nana C (to BIB): That’s what she said – she wants brisket…

Nana C (to me): You really don’t have to serve so much food….no one eats anymore…

BIB: She doesn’t need brisket – they won’t eat it…no one eats anymore…

After all of that I was, as you can imagine, exhausted. So I stopped arguing and said "You're right - no one eats...you know Jessica better than I do - so just make what you'd like to make and I'll serve it."

Nana C: Ok darling - I'll bring the unstuffed cabbage and the kugel...

Before BIB could interject, I said my grateful goodbyes and hung up, knowing that if nothing else, the food at the party would be covered and no one would go hungry (especially since "no one eats anymore").

Of course, the fact that the kugel had raisins in it when Jessica hates raisins caused what has become known as the Corbin Family Kugel Controversy, an un-holiday which occurs several times a year at Corbin Family gatherings.

"Can you believe my nana made the kugel with raisins?," Jessica's little sister Tiffany said, "Jessica hates raisins in her kugel."

I paused - waiting to hear BIB say something (even though he was two rooms away at the time). He didn't, however, either because he didn't hear what Tiffany said, or because his mouth was full of the meatballs I had ordered from the Italian deli at my corner. I would have rolled them myself, but took a leaf from Nana's recipe tree.

And if some of you are now craving kugel, here's a recipe for dairy kugel that I "borrowed" from someone. I've never actually made it - but either did Nana C, and if you make this one, Jessica Levin might Twitter about you since there are no raisins in it.

Enjoy!

• 4 cups uncooked egg noodles
• 1/4 cup butter or margarine, melted
• 5 eggs
• 2 cups small curd cottage cheese
• 2 cups sour cream
• 2 cups milk
• 1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
• 1 1/4 cups sugar, divided
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

Cook noodles according to package directions; drain. Toss with butter; set aside. in a large mixing bowl, beat the eggs for 8-10 minutes. Beat in cottage cheese, sour cream, milk, cream cheese, 1 cup sugar, vanilla and salt. Stir in noodles.

Transfer to a greased 13-in. x 9-in. x 2-in. baking dish. Combine the cinnamon and remaining sugar; sprinkle over noodle mixture. Bake, uncovered, at 350 degrees F for 55-60 minutes or until a knife inserted near the center comes out clean. Let stand for 10 minutes before serving.

When All Else Fails, Bacon Prevails

I have been fighting some kind of bug for the past few days and as my energy level has progressively plummeted so has my desire to incorporate healthier foods into my repertoire (which has always been anecdotal anyway). I have been longing for comfort food - chocolate – peanut butter and jelly on Ritz crackers…Twinkies…macaroni and cheese. In my home, unfortunately, I’m surrounded these days by non-eaters, with the exception of Deva, who follows me around constantly salivating and looking for crumbs. I love to cook for the masses, but no one here is hungry. Zimmerman, who just got braces, can’t chew anything, so he eats little but eggs and yogurt. Coprock rarely, if ever eats, and even at work - my boss, Esteban, eats oatmeal 4-5 times a day, which resembles wallpaper paste. I see so much oatmeal on a daily basis that I quake at the sight of oats (pun intended). The woman who sits next to me also loves oatmeal; she once told us that she was raised on "Oatmeal Smoothies" - a comment that even made Esteban momentarily re-think his food staple of choice (but only in passing of course).

During my combination of an upper respiratory bug and general malaise, I have had no energy to gut and cut melons or eat carrots. Unfortunately, however, yesterday I found myself in a state of panic when I realized that the house was almost completely devoid of anything worth eating – not even any brownie mix. The heat wave and a stroke of insanity that made me purge the cabinets of chocolate, lest it melt, and after much cabinet surfing, the only remotely sinful food I could find were some of Zimmerman’s mega M&Ms but they had been left to die in his desk which rendered them barely edible.

The only logical thing for me to do was to poll my friends to find out what their favorite comfort foods are - to indulge my food fantasies without involving Rachel Ray or the Barefoot Contessa; why turn to outsiders when I knew I could count on my closest friends for information on closet cravings. The results were mostly consistent with their personalities:

Skip (the man who cleans the plates of others at restaurants and who often slaughters herds of cattle when he’s on Atkins) said "Just sit me down in front of a variety of cereal boxes, a bunch of milk, a bowl and a spoon, and don't let your hands or arms get in my way ..this is known as: "The Throwdown"

Alice, Skip’s counterpart, simply said "It’s pizza for me."

Alice’s brother The Dancing Fool craves "chocolate, ginger and olives";

The High Tech Hottie turns to Reeses Pieces and Grape Soda; the Baby Diva eats brownies (although I don’t remember having ever seen her do this; she lives on air and grilled chicken); the Intercontinental Traveler drowns her sorrows in toasted Eggo waffles with real butter and maple syrup; Ciao Bella loves pasta and cake…but the most complete answer came from Kagee:

I love cereal - it's like dessert and I add nuts and raisins and mix different cereals together…did I ever tell you when I was around 19 years old my parents went somewhere for the day and I had the house all to myself. I was so happy. I thought, I can do anything I want and eat anything I want without my mom warning me about my weight problem. So the most sinful thing I could think of eating that day was a whole package of bacon. I cooked the whole package (crispy and almost burnt - that's how I like it) and began eating it. Somewhere half way through this feast, one of my front teeth on which I had a huge filling, broke in half from the crispy bacon. I began crying but didn't stop eating the bacon.

Here’s an interesting recipe to pay homage to all of the cravings of my friends, and comfort food aficionados everywhere:

Bacon and Tomato "Throw Down" for Pasta

1 lb. of bacon chopped or slivered
1 Onion, chopped
3 cloves Garlic, minced
8-10 black olives, sliced
2-3 fresh tomatoes

¼ cup tomato juice
1/2 teaspoon Salt
1/2 teaspoon Pepper
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
1 pound farfalle or shells

Directions: In a skillet, cook bacon, onion, garlic and thyme, stirring, for 5-7 minutes or until bacon is browned. Drain the fat; add tomatoes and tomato juice, bring to boil, breaking up tomatoes with back of spoon. Cook over medium heat for 10-12 minutes or until thickened. Stir in parsley.

Meanwhile, cook pasta, add sauce and toss to coat well.

Follow with ginger, grape soda, cereal, brownies and pizza.

Sausage Festival Reunion

  When a case of Diet Coke exploded in our garage refrigerator, in a spring cleaning frenzy, I asked my husband to hose it down since it would soon be grilling season again (although for Kagee, it’s apparently all year round). During the purging of the exploded cans and a few bottles of presumably stale Coors Light -he stumbled upon a package of frozen blood sausage which was left over from our first annual sausage fest held last July.

"Should I throw this out?," he asked.

Even though it was about 9 months old old, and frozen (almost) beyond recognition, it wasn’t a rhetorical question; he knows well how upset I can become if something is inadvertently tossed. "You threw away my lucky sage?," I might say, "I was saving it for a smudging ceremony." (To him, it was dead foliage in the back of the vegetable drawer; to me it was an aborted purification ritual).

Our sausage festival was one of our more memorable parties - even more so than the "bring your own ball" tree-trimming bash or the martini "wakes" we host in celebration of Xmas and my birthday (in January - see above photo of some of the babes in black). The most notable martini party was held at the same time as a Pampered Chef demonstration. The hostess was somewhat dismayed when she realized no one was paying attention to her demonstration, but retrospectively thrilled when she realized how many sales she had made based on the number of martinis consumed. Of course a lot of the guests ended up sleeping on the floor, but I scored quite a lot of crockery for future celebrations…including a sausage casserole made with kielbasa, apples and cheddar cheese…

So to segue back to the Sausage Fest - since many of my gal pals were unattached at the time, when I extended the invite to the Sausage Festival they immediately thought I was using Freudian imagery and that I was actually inviting them to singles networking event of sorts and wanted no part of it.  "I'm happy with Ben and Jerry," one said, "I don't want a sausage in my life."  When I convinced them that the invite should be literally construed and that the sausage they would meet would be the likes of Jimmy Dean or Bob Evans - they flocked in droves. Kagee, who helped me formulate the concept, invited her sister-in-law with two young dogs (Monkey and Tula) to help eat the spoils of the event, as well as her dog Polly (name changed to protect the guilty) - who can stuff more into her small frame than a team of Alaskan Huskies.  Kagee and I had determined some months before at a Pierogi Party (the details of which I’ll spare you) during which one of the guests was a hyperkinetic caterer, Kent, who had an "in your face" style of conversing (despite his protective girlfriend Para's "looks that would kill" to any woman who went near his rolled proscuitto appetizers - which were even worse that her usual disgruntled "I hate the world" stare) made everyone afraid to talk to him and incur her wrath (particularly since she, like most of the people there, were like Sumo Wrestlers) – we got into a rousing discussion about a safe subject - food - and collectively came to the conclusion through that every ethnic group makes some type of sausage; even our Jewish friends, who shunned pork, ate Kosher hot dogs from time to time…and the Vegans ate tofu…and so on and so on… The more we talked about it, the more types of sausage we thought of and then we realized that July was the birth month of Basha, the Kielbasa Queen – so we had no choice but to schedule in July.

Left - Basha and Slim Jim after the fateful meeting at Sausage Festival.

Everyone came to the table with something delicious (with the obvious exception of whoever brought the blood sausage, which never made it to the grill).  Irina and Katrina, a/k/a The Mojito Mamas brought their own mint masher for the drinks which made them famous and got everyone smashed; Katrina also brought an abundance of chocolate covered strawberries from the infamous Carlo's (City Hall) Bakery in Hoboken; Mrs. D. made sausage and broccoli rabe; Slim Jim (who, coincidentally, has is slender and has the same name as a popular type of beef jerky treat) brought macaroni salad (I think he might have gotten the invite to the Pasta La Vista bash by mistake); Basha was crowned not only with Kielbasa, but ended up linking up with Slim Jim (probably because she brought tuna pasta salad and they sensed they could make beautiful macaroni together); Mrs. Meo - three hours late as usual - looked more like Liz Taylor than ever - and brought cupcakes.  I tried to spike a melon but only once section ended up with any alchohol content whatsoever, so whoever had that chunk might still be somewhere in the garage...

All of the above being said – and despite unappetizing blood sausage frozen solid into an igloo-esque mass in the back of the garage freezer…I’m already trying to figure out the best time to hold this year’s bash and searching frantically for recipes involving weenier, bangers - and of course – seasoned tofu tubes. All recipes gratefully accepted.