Travels with The Rayman

Flan at rest in the Bain Marie or water bath.

There have been rumors that I am a good cook.  If I am, it is not something that comes easy to me these days.  Let me relay my example.

Currently two of my friends are under the weather and cannot eat solid food.  My idea was to make them something they might be able to get down.  After much pondering, I decided a flan would do.  You can make it ahead.  It travels well.  My friends like it (more on that later).  So a flan it would be.  

When I inspected my cupboards, cajeta was discovered lurking in the bowels of the pantry.  Two bottles of it.  So I looked for a flan recipe that called for cajeta.  Eureka.  I found it and for the last two days I have been collecting needed food stuffs from the grocery stores.  

This a.m. I dove right in the cooking the cajeta flan.  First things first.  Upon opening the bottle of cajeta, I observed white “dots” all over the surface of the cajeta.  Oh, I’m sorry.  Cajeta is a goat milk product.  It’s like condensed milk but made using goat milk.  Unsure if it was good, I called the company and spoke with a nice person, Theresa, I think…and she said that it probably had spoiled…and what was the expiration date?  Upon inspecting the bottle, I saw the date of December, 2016.  At this point, Theresa, became adamant that I should not, should not use it.  

So the search was on.  Went to our local Mexican food store that had two shelves of food stuffs and there was zero cajeta so I asked the man behind the cash register if he knew of another place that might carry it.  He said, “Santa Maria’.  Good grief.  So I sauntered back to the car and googled Mexican markets near me.  There was one in Los Osos.  I called them.  Nada.  Guess he was right.  

Santa Maria was out of the question.  Okay.  Needed to find a new recipe.   So I drove home and searched for flan on my machine.  I found an old blog entitled, “The Flan from Hell”.  So I pulled it up and recalled the effort in all its glory but the recipe was not written out.  Bummer.  So I searched far and wide.  No luck.  Then I retreated to the garage and brought about 10 different cookbooks into the house and went thru them.  Not one flan recipe of any kind in any until I looked at Rick Bayless’s book.  Voila.  A chocolate and Kahlua recipe.  Okay.  That would work because I had all the ingredients.  So off I went.

Preheating the oven, steeping chocolate and cinnamon in the half and half.  Bingo.  As soon as the milk mixture began simmering, Rick Bayless  told me to cover the pan and let the mixture steep.  I did.  Only I didn’t turn off the heat under the pan and in no time, the stove was covered with hot chocolate milk.  Eeekkk.  

After staring into the pan yelling expletives, I threw the mixture out.  Luckily I over bought and could recreate it.  

So….that is where the new rule became a thing.  From this day forward I hope to remember (big ask) to turn off the heat AND move the pan to another spot.  I do this out of a love of chocolate as well as the hate of cleaning and I hope I am successful at this new rule.  

While the flans were cooking in the oven, I decided to go back and read my blog entitled “The Flan from Hell” to reminisce.  I refer it to you here because it was pretty funny.  And the reason it is now so funny is that I am making the flan for the two women that I made the flan for in The Flan from Hell blog.  Now ain’t that something?  

The Flan from Hell

P.S.   In re-reading “The Flan from Hell”, I discovered the recipe called for using annatto seeds.  So I did a goggle search for flan recipe with annatto seeds.  And you know what showed up?  My blog!!!!!  

P.P. S.S.   Never found the original recipe.  Too bad.  It was quite good!!

The pandemic seems to be growing old on us and everyone we know.  This I know because since the talk of opening up has started, I followed through with medical shots and physical therapy for my ring finger of my decidedly important right hand.  That’s how desperate I was to get out of the house.  And so there you have it.  Elective medical procedures ace out stay-at-home practices.  

I get to sleep with it on all night.

Just how desperate are you?  A face lift perhaps?  Tats for your brows?  Electrologist appointment for that annoying chin hair?  How about bunions?  Need a bunion eliminated…that is a real test of how dissatisfied life has become in the age of cholera.  

Hand with straight ring finger!!

But I digress.

People from the valley are flocking to the coast.  This is not good for us at the coast.  These people from the valley leave their masks at home, hope in their big trucks and invade the beaches while ignoring social distancing.  They may hail from other parts (ramparts?), but we have had a huge uptick in visitors on the weekends.  The weekend is the time we are definitely hunkered down.  Staying at home seems much safer and the physical therapist doesn’t work on the weekend in any event.  

Today we drove down to Grover Beach and Arroyo Grande to go to Ron’s Nursery to get a new indoor plant as the one we have is fighting for its own survival.  Mary Kay plans to do an intervention rescue and come pick it up and when she does, I will repot the plant which only requires water about twice a year and likes darker environs…it might be related to a vampire or bats.  Ron’s Nursery is a great store with plants beautifully displayed and priced accordingly.  Ron is a very large man that is highly social and kind.  He must feel cursed in a way.  His first nursery was written up in Sunset Magazine and other publications because is was so beautiful and pleasing to the eye.  After years, he decided to expand just as the roaring economy of the late 90’s was in full swing and no sooner had it opened, the economy took a nose dive and he had to walk away.  CDOs and collateralized mortgage obligations took him to the cleaners.  It was very bad timing and only one person ever went to jail for the harm that Wall Street and the bond rating organizations caused.  Capitalism at its worse.  

But I digress.

So, Ron was there at Ron’s and we had a great chat.  Seems that he hunkered down just like the rest of us…only his new shop which is much smaller and just as pretty was closed for the virus.  After a while, he became depressed and when they said nurseries could reopen, he was back at in a hot minute.   Which is probably where everyone is about now…raring to go.  He did not, however, have his Gregorian chants playing which I sorely missed.   

After Ron’s we drove to the pot store and bought some more edibles and some CBD ointment for my hand which is still bruised and tender.  Thought I’d try it out to see if it worked….for what I paid, my hand should be in nirvana.  Just sayin.  

Moseyed over to check out an organic farm to buy strawberries and apples.  It was our virgin voyage.  Quite an operation located  right at the site of the farm.  We entered into a dirt parking lot.  There were lines on the ground for social distancing.  Masks were required.  Only one or two (family folks) were allowed to walk thru the veggie stand at one time.  Once I made my selection, I had to pay either with cash or check.  Not having the right change, I went to the car to find a $5 bill and returned to drop the money into a white mailbox.  No cashier.  No change available.  Trust was everywhere along with the dust as the wind had picked up.  It was a throwback to the old days.  An honor system.  Loved it.   There is good in the world despite Trump.

We stopped in at Whole Foods for buttermilk and Mexican crema, and there was a line to get in.  Whole Food is doing a great job during this upheaval.  Only so many are allowed in the store at a time.  If you are sans mask, they provide one.  Otherwise, no entry.  

We returned home to the most excited dog you have ever seen.  It’s been so long since we have left him alone for more than a few minutes, he was out of his mind…such a good boy, half jumping (he knew that wasn’t a good idea), twirling, running from place to place.  Nothing like aBeau to put a smile on our faces.   There is good in the world despite Trump.

My finger requires heat, therapeutic exercises, massage by moi, and then ice.  So that was done while Rayman went out to pick up a hamburger which we split for lunch.  Yummy!!!   Washed it down with red wine.  Yummy!!!  And then we ate it!!

We sadly finished a series we have been watching…Seachange.  It was so sweet, an Australian production.  It’s on Acorn and YouTube.  The characters are so lovable.  And they tease you with hard-to-get romances.  Rayman liked it and it’s a series which he usually poo-poos.  It’s like finishing a good book…you fondle it lovingly and wish it would go on and on.  Unlike the virus.  

I’m unsure if I could make this anymore boring…it somewhat reflects what is happening…not much.  Making “not much happening” is a skill probably best left to poets.  Poets can wax on about a ray of light stanza after stanza in beautiful, haunting observations with lots of simile and metaphor thrown in for good measure.  Half the time I understand it.  The other half I ponder the meaning not sure of the poet’s intent.  Guess more practice is needed.   Or more imagination.  It’s akin to looking at art.  Sometimes, I just don’t get it.  Often times I never get it especially the modern art stuff.  Too obscure and sometime downright strange for this kid.  Since when is an ashtray art?  Or a box in the middle of a huge gallery?  Avant garde is often just too avant garde.  

Hope this finds my dear readers in good health both mentally and physically.  Keep in touch.  Tata.

Meeting one of the most ill informed people on the planet was my most interesting encounter today.

Let me start by saying that we had just left the best marijuana dispensary in the county, we drove to the best Mexican joints in the county.  My hand was with bandage because my right hand tendon had been injected with a solution of stuff and I looked a bit silly.

Be that is it may, we went to the Mexican joint and had to order from a window for food to go.  While there, a man struck up a conversation with me…or us.  He was a retired policeman from Ceres, CA.  He wanted me to know everything about him so this is what I learned.  He was living in his RV in Pismo.  He was looking for Magnum P.I. shirts…he had 89 and needed a couple of more hard-to-find shirts.  He had put 25,000 on his RV.  His daughter had come over to protect him and his wife from the virus.  She locked them in the RV.  He had had it.  So on Friday, he drove to Avila to walk on the beach without his mask, hoping to be cited by the police.  

It was at this point that I expressed my surprise.  Why would a retired police officer do that?  

He explained that he supports the Constitution and loves his liberty and part of his liberty is being able to not wear a mask.  “What?,” I said.  This made no sense.

Then he explained that the virus was a hoax and he wasn’t worried about his safety.  Okay, then.

He went on the tell me about how he and wife had researched everything very thoroughly, and he was certain that by standing in the sun for 90 seconds, he would be safe from contacting the virus.  

So, what to say?  What to think?

I very swiftly concluded that I was talking with a nut-fuck.  He was way, way out there.  How could I handle the conversation?  So, I asked him with all the research he had done, why did he think that his evaluation was better than, say, Dr. Fauci.  He replied that Dr. Fauci had been involved with the Chinese.  

OMG.  At this point I figured that he not only was a Fox listener, he was probably an Alex Jones guy.  OMG.  

He asked me if I knew how many in the county had died.  I said one or two.  Wrong.  He said zero had died.  One had died but she or he had a pre-existing condition and it was an example of how deaths have been exaggerated and, really, this was no worse than the seasonal flu.  

At this point, I had a total wack job in front of me and I told him he was misinformed and being lead down the primrose path by whomever he was listening to and we should just part company and I left him muttering on the sidewalk as I walked to my car.

Really, folks, there are people like this out there.  I was shocked that he was totally unembarrassed by his thinking.  And happy to share it.  

So, when we came home, I ate the best Mexican food and flushed in down with some Guiness  beer (we were out of Corona, ha ha).  And then I further inoculated myself with Rayman’s margarita and life was good.  

Just thought you would like the story of the retired cop going out to break the law because he valued his liberty, he loved the Constitution, and…well, he was just crazy.

Well, now.  It’s Tuesday.

There.  I said it.  Now I’ll check my calendar to see if it is really true.  I truly believe it is.

The bottom of my feet have been bleached.  I just crawled out of the shower after cleaning it.  At least I think I cleaned the shower.  Having had a housecleaner for years, I’m not sure I’m doing it right.  Maybe there is a YouTube on it.  I’m open to your ideas, dear reader, on how to clean a shower.   We can all use new ideas on this mundane chore.  What I enjoyed about it, though, was playing in the water.  Since I’m not swimming or doing aqua aerobics I’ve missed playing in water.  So there was that.  Feel free to inform me of you tricks of the trade.  Or are we all in the same boat?  

Let’s see.  What else is new?

Today was my first time of making blue cheese salad dressing from scratch.  Yesterday when I took my life in my hands by going grocery shopping, I espied a cut of French bleu fromage..  So that went into the dressing along with sour cream, buttermilk, mayo, garlic, olive oil.  I have now a lifetime supply of dressing and it is really good.  With no preservatives or additives.  I’m stoked.

I’ll be modeling the extra body fat later this week via a photo.  Ha ha.  

As mentioned in my blog today, we went shopping yesterday.  We are now grocery shopping at Whole Foods early, early, early in the morning.  Before breakfast.  So, it is worth mentioning that shopping while hungry is dangerous.  Everything looks delicious.  I need one of everything.  Or two, or three.  I had a list.  More things were in the cart at check out than on my list.  Cauliflower was an unlisted item.  It is beautiful.  I just couldn’t get by her.  A fennel bulb got plucked out of the pile.  Yum with lots of those sexy fronds.  That wasn’t on the list either.  The bottle of port, as mentioned in the blog, was hidden under the carrot tops.  Not on the list and a complete surprise to moi.  The fun of shopping is what is unexpected, I suppose.  Do you find this to be an adequate axiom…don’t go shopping while hungry?  

The trip to the winery was so much fun.  Just driving was fun.  The roads were unbusy.  We took Beau with us and drove to Paso to Sculpterra winery which is located on the old family ranch.  A beautiful spot.  50% off a case of wine was the come-on and the Rayman fell, hook, line, and sinker.  The great thing was 1.  The beautiful day. 2.  Didn’t need to leave the car…they delivered the case to our car with mask on.  3.  An opportunity to drive thru the ranch and up to High Ridge Drive to check out our property.  To get there, we had to drive thru the Huero Huero creek bed.  Dust flew everywhere.  Now our car needs a bath.  So worth it.  Stopped long enough to take a picture of the house my grandparents and mom and uncle lived in starting about 1923.  It still stands.  It is no longer in the family.  Our family gave the ranch hand the parcel on which the house now sits.  Mr. Thimm.  He’s gone now.  Everyone is gone now.  The memories are there though and I love sharing them with you all.

Family house during th 20s and 30s on the ranch.

Moving right along, I would lastly like to comment about the Silence of the Rams.  Every Sunday, we have a regular Zoom meeting with our wine tasting group, Sideways.  It is a blast.  The funny thing is that the men are mostly quiet.  Rayman and I discussed this phenom during our drive.  Hence the Silence of the Rams.  They guys are there.  They just don’t talk much.  Why is that?  (Rams is the acronym for Retired Active Men Society, I think).  So. The active part is missing.  That’s what I’m saying.  We drink or sip as we Zoom.  And the women talk.  Hope the men will join in.  

Well, got to throw the clothes in the dryer.  Hey, it’s something to do!!

Horses we saw on the trip.

Iphone habit?

Dear reader, have you developed any new habits in light of our current incarceration?  Oh, you know, I kid when I use such an inflammatory description such as incarceration.  It actually doesn’t really feel that drastic, now does it?

Habits, it has been said, are hard to break.  And yet, we here at the beach bungalow have been breaking them with some repetition so that is funny just on the face of it.  Take for instance, the act of sleeping.  Our entire working lives and into retirement, sleeping in was never much of a thing.  Well, that has changed.  Since we have been given permission to go no where, and do nothing…sleeping is a new thing.  Take for instance, this a.m.  Woke at 7ish and lolliygagged in bed until 8:30.  Some of it, admittedly, was actual sleep.  The rest of the time was filled with contemplation.  So many things to contemplate.  How should I cook those chops tonight?  Should we still rent out the house this summer?  Should I float down the river this summer?  What will happen with the dispute with the Canadian Rockies train company?  What horrible thing has Trump done now?  Should I continue pulling weeds today?  Is it raining or is that just fog?

And on and on.  Some fleeting of thought, some deep dives into knotty issues.  It was lovely.  So, there is that habit.  No jumping up, throwing on of clothes to beat it to the first tee.  Or running to the grocery store for bananas.  A trip to get just one thing is not a thing in longer.  Which, is another habit broken.  Substitutions are the new rule at the moment.  No bananas?  How about an apple?  Do I have one of those?  How about raisins?  yes, I have raisins because we accidentally bought two life time supply bags of raisins at Costco…home of the place where you buy way more than you need because it is such a better deal.  Turmeric?  Do I have that?  If not, well, throw that recipe in the trash.  There just isn’t a substitute for that, is there?  

Making a special trip to the store for one item is just not a good idea because of all the work it entails.  Gloves, masks, swipes.  These are our new going-out-clothes now.  We don them at home or in the car in order to enter a store, or an office, or…well, anyplace except our home.  That is our new habit…if you go, make it worth your time and trouble.  If I have a need for buttermilk, say, throw some vinegar in milk and save your time for something else.  

In a manner of speaking things are easier and harder all in the span of a day.  And that makes it all interesting… sometimes.   There are few absolutes except to stay safe, wash down with swipes anything touched.  Another new habit of necessity.  

Weeding is my new morning activity.  And I literally mean weeding here.  During this hiatus from  normal life, we had our yard re-done.  And when it was replanted, they applied (threw) gorilla hair all over the place.  Gorilla hair is also known as shredded bark.  Right after our yard was completed, it rained.  And after the rain came the weeds.  Everywhere.  Oh, how I wish things I wanted to grow would grow like a weed.  Here is an example.   To save money, we opted for 3 or 5 gal. plants.  I am hoping to live long enough to see them bigger.  I guarantee that if they grew like weeds, it would take about a week.  Weeds are relentless, obstinate, uninvited, opportunists.  Do you suppose they hope we don’t notice?  Put all guessing aside.  That is exactly what they hope.  And if you do notice and don’t get the whole darn root, they grow back like the tail of a lizard grows back.  Or they spread their seeds the moment you pluck them from the garden.  That is just what they do.  God, weeds will inherit the earth.  That and alligators.

Photo by yarne fiten on Unsplash

Note the size of a plant now growing.

Turning on the TV during the day is a new habit.  Never, ever, ever have we done that.  And yet, here we are.   Cuomo is our guy.  He pays attention to facts and science and it is so refreshing, we can’t look away.  Oh, we don’t do it every day.  But we do turn the tellie on now again these days.  And why not?  There aren’t a plethora of things demanding to be done.  Except those darn weeks.  

Today we were to go to Santa Barbara to see the Pod Save America gang…all these young, bright ex-Obama aids that have turned their experience into a money making machine that includes doing live shows.  But, alas, that was cancelled.  And my eye appointment was cancelled.  My calendar looks empty.  Oh, wait.  It is empty.  So, the new habit is not to look at the calendar so much.  Because there is NOTHING on it.  

After some reflection, I guess, there are some silver linings in all this.  Life is slower.  And slower isn’t necessarily a bad thing.  Just look at it as… in the words of the immortal BeeGees…, just staying alive.  

Thursday doings:

I isn’t so much about what we’ve done today.  I mean, how different can it possibly be from every other day?  It’s what I think about that is more interesting.

How will I cut my hair?  

Why did I leave my immersion blender in PDX and should I buy another one?  And why is it that if I had the immersion blender here, I would probably never see a recipe requiring one?  One of the mysteries of life?  

Does the call of a cormorant sound more like a whale or a lion?  And how does such a bird of its size manage to produce such a loud, strange sound?   

Where are the masks I ordered?  Had to brave grocery shopping today and so I used a very stylish 1960s Vera scarf to cover my nose and mouth.  Where are the masks?  

I am glad I am not an elected official.  Those poor Governors.  What they must do to help people stay healthy.   We can never repay them, those that listened to the scientists, anyway.  Rush Limbaugh famously implored his audience to lighten up because the virus was not anything more than a common cold.  He implored his fans to ignore the warnings.  So why would anyone be so irresponsible?  I mean, I long ago gave up trying to understand his listeners.  But why would he say that?  What is the motivation?

How and when should we bathe the Beaumeister?  Poor baby is starting to lose his good smell.   All the groomers are unable to ply their trade.  

As irony would have it, the house is clean and I can’t have company.  Now, that is a real bummer.  If it weren’t the plague and we were having a dinner party, cleaning would ensue before the day of the party.  But now, with no cleaning needed, there are no parties.  This is not fair.

Should I buy that blouse on Cabi’s website or not?  Where will I wear it?  I guess I don’t care…I’m buying it for a bit of retail therapy.  Besides, it is yellow and cheery…with long sleeves which I am apparently transitioning to as my arm skin is looking like hippo skin, or shall we say, lizard skin?  Which brings me to withered skin.  How did it get that way so fast?  Seems like just yesterday (yesteryear) that it was smooth with a few creases here and there.  Now, if the sun shines just right on an outstretched arm…it is downright frightening.  On the flip side though, if I wear long sleeves and long pants, I don’t need to apply sunscreen…so there is that.  

But I digress.

Or maybe I don’t.  This is taking on the appearance of a stream-of-consciousness kind of blog so digression seems to be part of the style.  

When will I start up on my book?  What is stopping me?  Hard work?  Boredom?  I don’t know.  However, last night as I was reading in bed, I came across an article about how to write…better.  So, it has given me something to think about when I do launch back into the effort.  It also terrified me because it said my first draft is only the first draft.   Is that true for a prolific writer like, say, Stephen King?  If that’s true, that guy must be glued to his keyboard, literally.  So many questions.  

It’s 5 p.m. and so it’s time to drink…cocktail and apps might be my favorite time of the day now.  And I don’t want to keep the Rayman waiting.  So I’ll bid you a fond adieu.  Stay well.