A Day in The Life

Well, we are entering our sixth month and I think we have settled in pretty well. Pippa is a little edgy.

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But, all things considered, we are adjusting. Haven't had one, "That's it, I'm outta here!" moment. Of course, here on Skidaway Island just outside of Savannah, "outta here" means into a pitch dark primeval forest of Live Oaks draped with Spanish Moss and thousands of acres of trackless marshes ribboned with tidal rivers. Fifty years ago my Drill Instructors on Parris Island assured me those marshes are impassable. "The crabs will eat out your eyeballs before you're even dead, maggot." God, it's beautiful here in the Low Country of Georgia in the daylight but at night...Wilbur is the place to be. Especially if it is raining bobcats and alligators. Wilbur has these wonderful day/night shades. We pull them down and we are warm and snug and dry. The rain makes a soothing staccato patter on the roof.

Day shades down

Night shades down

The first couple of months I suffered from "We're On Vacation" syndrome. Our time is limited. Every moment is precious. We should be doing something interesting and fun. Now, I think we have established an equilibrium.

For instance, from a couple of days ago:
Roscoe woke me just before 7. He sleeps at the foot of our bed so when he wants something he just trundles up and starts licking and pawing. He can be very insistent. So I rolled up my pajama bottoms and carried him outside. Back inside, I made him breakfast: boiled chicken, sweet potato, apple and a few kibbles. He wolfed it down, if there is any wolf left in Roscoe; then the little bugger trundled back to the bedroom, climbed the two steps to the bed, settled himself on my pillow and promptly went back to sleep. Wilbur has given Roscoe the ability to get himself on and off of our bed This is a major quality of life improvement for Roscoe which does not quite compensate for his increasing difficulty breathing. There is nothing wrong with his hearing though. Usually when we return from our daily afternoon forays Roscoe is waiting for us by the door. He has a most pained expression on his face. "I was so worried. I have been waiting here by this step since you left. I thought you would never come back." Bullsh-t.  A couple of times Fran and I were very quiet returning. We found Roscoe up on the bed blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

With Roscoe taken care of, the cats' bowls filled, and Fran still asleep it is time to start the business of the morning: coffee,  bake bread, straighten up, sweep, plan the afternoon walk in Savannah, read a little news, a couple of blogs.....

The previous day I had made the no-knead dough for my boule. Now I turned it out of the bowl, patted it down, folded it up and placed it in a non-stick skillet for a second rise of about two hours. I had consistently great success with this loaf until we moved into Wilbur. The boule requires an oven that can maintain 450 degrees and a cooking vessel that will heat up and store the heat like a cast iron Dutch oven.

Wilbur doesn't really have an oven, per se. He has an Apollo 1/2 Time Oven, a microwave/convection combo.

The Apollo 1/2 Time Oven in Wilbur

It is has been great for almost everything else I've tried: sandwich bread, cinnamon rolls, cakes, pizza, whole and spatchcocked chicken --you name it. On 1/2 Time setting the oven cooks from the inside out  using microwaves and from the outside in with the convection element and fan. And it cooks in a little more than half the time. A recipe that calls for 35 minutes I will cook for 18 minutes then add time as necessary. To get chicken and pizza crust to brown I use convection only for the last part of cooking.

I spent most of the summer in Vermont trying to bake that freakin' boule. I tried over a wood fire (charred the bread and the cast iron pot); using charcoal around and on top of the cast iron Dutch oven, in my 1/2 Time on the metal cooking rack; in the 1/2 Time in the Dutch oven.

Boule--not good

The results have been less than acceptable and we are really beginning to miss the wonderful "artisanal" grilled cheese sandwiches. I am almost to the point of ordering this. It just might meet the needs of my two abiding food passions: bread and  wood-fired pizza.

It isn't wood-fired but.....

During our Summer in Vermont we went to a concert in a vineyard where this fellow was baking real neapolitan pizzas in about 90 seconds in a portable wood-fired oven. His menu feature only local, fresh products in season or the best imports he could find

The Fire Within Portable wood-fired pizza oven

I have been infatuated with the idea ever since.

With the boule doing its thing, it was time to turn to the sandwich loaf. My regular loaf is just fine. For years I have been using King Arthur Flours that I bought at Sam's. When I got to Vermont I learned that King Arthur is an employee-owned Vermont company out of Norwich. They have a great website which includes recipes, a blog, a forum where questions are answered and problems solved almost immediately by KA bakers who seem to monitor the site almost constantly. Every April Fool's Day they post the year's best flubs and failures at their test bakery. It's a hoot.

Now I have to knead by hand but I find I actually enjoy it. The Corian countertops in Wilbur are great for working with dough. If anything, I have to be careful not to over-knead, develop too much gluten and end up with a tough loaf. It takes a tough guy to bake a tender loaf. I almost don't miss my 600 watt Kitchenaide Stand Mixer.

No toy this

With both loaves on the rise and Fran out of bed after drinking her coffee and reading her iPad, we turn to chores. Roscoe has to be walked. That's a Fran job. The floor has to be swept. That's a Fran or David job. Anything out of its proper place has to be put back in it. That's a Fran and David job. The awful shag carpet has to be vacuumed. (David). With the two cats, that's a lot of cat hair. Clean the kitty litter, definitely a Fran job. Dishes. (Fran) Mess (David) This is how Wilbur looks with almost everything put away. He seldom looks quite like this.

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Into the oven with ramekins of water to steam  the crust 

A nice looking loaf

One outta two ain't bad.

With the chores done and the bread in the oven, we have the rest of the morning to putz around, ride our bikes, which we try to do every day, read the papers. Then, with the bread out of the oven, around noon we headed into Savannah to continue our walking tour of that great little city.

The Mercer-Williams House on Monterey Square

We got back home around 4. Roscoe got fed and walked (Fran and David). What with it being bread day we had pizza for dinner. After the first rise of the bread, I shape the loaf and cut off the ends to fit the bread pan. Those ends I use for pizza dough. I've kept them in a plastic bag in the rerigeratorfor over a week and in the freezer  for a month.

I bring the dough to room temperature, press it into a disc then take it outside to my pre-heated, round Lodge cast iron griddle thingy. Forty five seconds on the hot iron and the bottom of the pizza dough is crisp, golden and even slightly charred is spots. Then, inside, I build the pizza and finish it in the convection oven for about 12 minutes. No, its not the best pizza you'll ever have but it is pretty credible.

Now that daylight savings time is over Fran and I usually read after dinner. We watch one hour of TV a week, The Good Wife and, get this, we receive the broadcast over the air through our external antenna. Then by 9 o'clock we are usually in bed. We read a little more and ---that's the day.

GRITS

Joe Pesci and Marisa Tomei in My Cousin Vinny. Recognize the judge?

Before Fran and I came South, anything and everything I knew about grits I learned from the movie, My Cousin Vinny. In the movie, two New York college students driving through Alabama are arrested and charged with murder. To defend them, they enlist the aid of their cousin Vinny, a shiny-suited,  pointy-shoed hustler of a New York lawyer in an Alabama courtroom before an Alabama judge and jury. The boys' fate hinges upon the eye witness testimony of a good ole boy who swears that, while making his morning grits, he saw the boys' car leaving the scene of the crime. The truth of his testimony will rest on the fact of which kind of grits he was making. Were they the new-fangled quick-cooking instant grits? Or was he busy stirring the old-fashioned traditional grits?  SPOILER ALERT: The answer will be at the end of this post.

Fran and I don't dine out very often. I love to cook and I'm told I am pretty good at it. And usually there is some aspect of the dining out experience that I find disappointing. The exception to the usual is when our son, Eli, is with us. And that experience, and it is alway an experience, we can afford only about once a year. I really only enjoy eating out when the food requires special equipment, hard-to-get ingredients and wisdom and experience beyond my ken. I like to think I know my limits.

On our way South we stopped in Davidson, NC to see our old neighbors, Alan and JoAnn Young. They were both raised in the South.  They  urged us to  try boiled peanuts, Low Country barbecue and shrimp and grits. Now, here were three foods that definitely met my "Let someone else cook it first" criteria. So when our daughter, Milli, flew from London to Boston to Charleston to spend a week with us, we ate at least one meal out five of the seven days. And on four of those occasions I had ---shrimp and grits.

At Eli's Table on Meeting Street, the shrimp and grits was served with tasso gravy.

No Relation:)

Shrimp & Grits from Eli's just as it looked before I dove in

My next S&G experience was at The Glass Onion, a soul food restaurant in a strip shopping center out on the Savannah Highway with black and white tile floors, kraft paper for table cloths and a very talented chef.  His rendition of shrimp and grits changes almost daily, as does his menu.  I had tasso gravy and andouille sausage.

Good food. Not too fancy.

Our most elegant dining experience was at the Restaurant at Middleton Place plantation. The setting is beautiful. And, unlike the  schlock restaurants at most tourist attractions, this restaurant for many years was home to Edna Lewis, doyenne of  traditional Southern Cooking.  On this occasion, the S&G was served with Tasso gravy over Anson Mills Grits.

Dining Room at Middleton Place

Finally, on a Sunday afternoon we went to Pearlz on Magnolia Road just off the Savannah Highway. This very noisy bar/restaurant specializes in oysters. A shucker is always busy behind the bar. The shrimp and grits is always on the menu but the preparation varies daily.  Once again it was tasso gravy and sausage.

Well, how was it you may well ask? I suppose its possible to screw up shrimp and grits. Don't cook the grits long enough so they are still gritty. Don't add enough liquid. Don't stir almost constantly so the grits scorch or burn. Skimp on the artery clogging cream, butter and cheese. Overcook the shrimp. Don't cook the roux until it is deep, deep brown. I suppose it's possible. But you would have to work real hard, or not at all, to do it.

The grits in each of the four dishes I tried were smooth, creamy, rich and flavorful in and of themselves. What's not to like: cream, stock, butter, cheese. Grits are one of those "vehicle" foods like a lettuce and tomato on white bread is a vehicle for mayo. I would have enjoyed them without any gravy or sausage as a side dish for any number of proteins. But the tasso gravy was deep,  spicy, flavorful and balanced. The shrimp was properly cooked. All four dishes were very satisfying; which told me all I needed to know: I can make this dish.

First I needed a recipe. Easily done. Magnolia's Spicy Shrimp, Sausage and Tasso Over Creamy Grits  looked the trick. Then I needed grits. The grits belt runs from Virginia clear through Texas. I was looking for Anson Mills grits. Thank heaven I didn't find them. I took the linen bag of grits available in Charleston's new and very mediocre Whole Foods. Had I found Anson Mills I would have been way to intimidated to try the dish.  The company bio of the "visionary" Glenn Roberts and his "epiphanies" make Alice Waters of Chez Panisse and locavore fame look like a slacker who slinks off to McDonalds  after her restaurant closes. And if you can get past the bio there is this wonderful disclaimer:

We’re fussy. We wouldn’t be doing this if we weren’t. Our products are fussy, too. They may look like their grocery store counterparts, but they don’t cook like them! We’ve spent hundreds of hours developing the recipes we offer on this website. These recipes follow the stream of authentic foodways and work beautifully with our products.

So if you purchase our oats or grits, wheat flour or rice, be sure to use the recipes and techniques we provide—at least until you have a good, working feel for the product.

The bottom line is this: our products can’t be relied on to work with standard recipes, and standard recipes can’t be relied on to work with our products.

Ok, so you take that with a couple of grains of sel de mer.  Just show me the grits.

GRITS AND HOMINY CORN

Antebellum Coarse White Grits *

Antebellum Coarse Yellow Grits *

Antebellum Medium White Quick Grits *

Antebellum Medium Yellow Quick Grits *

Colonial Coarse Pencil Cob Grits *

Native Coarse Blue Corn Grits *

Henry Moore Yellow Hominy Corn *

Do I want my grits pre or post the "Recent Unpleasantness"? Give me a break and don't get me started!

So I had my Whole Foods, run of the mill (literally) grits. Now I needed a substitute for Tasso. Tasso is pork shoulder, Cajun spiced and smoked for a short period of time. You sauté the Tasso to render the spicy juices and fat into the pan before adding the chicken stock and roux. A Google Search suggested Chorizo as a substitute. My local Publix had both the chorizo and andouille sausages.

I started with the grits: 1cup heavy cream, 3 cups low sodium chicken stock, salt into a 2 quart sauce pan. Bring to a boil. Add grits stirring all the while. Turn down to simmer. Stirring all the while. Set iPhone timer for 30 minutes. Stirring all the while. Stand over pot for 30 minutes. Stirring all the while. (As a rank beginner I dared not leave the grits for a moment, not one.) After 30 minutes check for creaminess. Stirring all the while. If done add butter and cheddar. Stirring.....When done, keep grits warm over a bain marie, oops, simmering pan of water.

Next came the roux. Butter melted until it stopped foaming and an equal volume of flour stirred in, Stir constantly until the roux is a rich, deep, nut brown. The longer it cooks, the better, so long as it doesn't burn.

Next, the gravy base. Onions and chorizo sautéed until the onions have caramelized and the sausage has given up all its goodness. Add the stock. Bring to boil. Add the roux. Stir until thickened.

Slice and saute the andouille. Assemble the dish. A mess of grits, ladle of gravy and 1/2 dozen sausage medallions. Voila.

My Shrimp and Grits with chorizo gravy and andouille sausage

I will leave it to my editor and food taster and tester to render her own opinion of my version here.  Fran: It was delish.  But I think it would be worth it to get some Tasso online.

BTW, store any leftover grits in the fridge.  To reheat, microwave for a minute or so. Then add a little of any of the liquids in the grits and stir to loosen them up and make them  creamy once again. Grits, thy middle name is stir.

Shrimp and Grits: Endless variations.

SPOILER: The witness was, of course, cooking traditional grits in the kitchen at the back of his house. He could not have seen the car out of his front window unless he left the grits to scorch and burn, which, of course he would not admit to.

We ain't worried about no voting rights law. We got this fella Gerry Manders

Last Friday, after we got our Florida residency, driver's licenses, vehicle registrations and voter registration, we came home and looked up Marco Rubio, one of our Senators and Rick Scott, our Governor. (Fran: Dear God, what have we done?)  In all the excitement we completely forgot our Congressional representative. No problem, right?

Well, actually it wasn't so simple. In fact, it has taken us 4 days to figure it out. If you look at the map of congressional districts above, the light blue one is Florida's new 3rd and the long, skinny purple one is Florida's new 5th. Now, where the purple one gets real skinny, way up north --so skinny if you drank a 40 ouncer you could piss from the 3rd, over the 5th into Florida's 7th, the green one, well, that's Green Cove Springs.   St. Brendan's Isle, our mail forwarding service and the basis for our Florida residency, is located in Green Cove Springs.  In short, their address is our address.

Florida's new 5th district as of 2012

Green Cove Springs is right under the FL-5. See what I mean? Some of the Florida 5th's constituents have fins.

Now it didn't used to be this way. From 1993 to 2012 the map looked like this:

Florida's 3rd from 1993-2012

After the 2010 census, the Florida legislature had to reconfigure (gerrymander) its congressional districts. The black population of Florida is often spread out. It used to be you could gerrymander districts to dilute and neutralize the votes of those whom you would just disenfranchise altogether if you had your druthers and the Federal Guvment would butt out.  Now, you gerrymander to create a district insuring one, presumably Democrat, black representative and guaranteeing several safe-for-the-indefinite-future certain Republican white representatives.

Now I'm sure you'll will be shocked to learn that Florida's 5th, which runs some 150 miles from north of Jacksonville to south of Orlando is represented by one Corinne Brown, a woman of the African American persuasion.

And Florida's 3rd, which is overwhelming white, is represented by one Ted Yoho.

Fran: Dear God, not him, please!

I had heard of Yoho when I was up North. He was the guy leading the effort to impeach Eric Holder. Then I began to look at his positions and I started to get really excited. Here was an anti-abortion, anti-gay marriage, pro-gun Conservative Republican who generally held the positions represented by the chart below:

 Spending and Taxes

Spending
Indicate what federal spending levels (#1-6) you support for the following general categories. Select one number per category; you can use a number more than once.
Slightly Decrease	a) Agriculture
Greatly Decrease	b) Arts
Maintain Status	c) Defense
Greatly Decrease	d) Education
Greatly Decrease	e) Environment
Slightly Decrease	f) Homeland Security
Eliminate	g) International aid
Slightly Decrease	h) Medical Research
Maintain Status	i) Scientific Research
Slightly Increase	j) Space exploration
Eliminate	k) United Nations
Greatly Decrease	l) Welfare
	m) Other or expanded categories
Taxes
Indicate what federal tax levels (#1-6) you support for the following general categories. Select one number per category; you can use a number more than once.
Eliminate	a) Capital gains taxes
Eliminate	b) Corporate taxes
Eliminate	c) Excise taxes (alcohol)
Eliminate	d) Excise taxes (cigarettes)
Eliminate	e) Excise taxes (transportation fuel)
Eliminate	f) Income taxes (low-income families)
Eliminate	g) Income taxes (middle-income families)
Eliminate	h) Income taxes (high-income families)
Eliminate	i) Inheritance taxes
Eliminate	j) Payroll taxes
	k) Other or expanded categories
I support the Fair Tax which would eliminate all of the above. The Fair Tax is based on consumption and everyone pays in based on what and how much they consume, hence it being fair.

Could I possibly have hit the rectal/cranial inversion trifecta? My Governor, one of my Senators and my Congressional Representative all have their heads up their ass.

It all came down to the zip code of St. Brendan's Isle Mail Forwarding Service. I went right to the horse's mouth, Find Your Representative.gov and I put in my zip code.  And I got this:

I was getting close.  Fran was plotzing.  Then it asked me to put in my street address.  I got this:

Bummer. (Not to Fran!)  No trifecta after all.  How could this have happened?  FindYourRepresentative.gov had anticipated my question. They provided this large scale map of Green Cove Springs.

See that area that kinda looks like a gun shooting into Florida's 3rd? Well, apparently 411 Walnut Street is in there. Fran and I have moved into a predominantly black neighborhood.  But we got a great deal on a mailbox.  FRAN: AND TED YOHO, A YOHO IF EVER THERE WAS ONE, IS NOT OUR CONGRESSMAN!!!