Stephanie says

Moose is always happy to help clean up the kitchen, especially ice cream carton detail.

Melissa was here for the weekend so I did some cooking. We had a simple and ever so tasty dessert of vanilla ice cream on a dribble of homemade berry syrup topped with a lot of caramel sauce ala Julia Child and decided French toast for breakfast would be perfect with that berry syrup. You’ve got to plan ahead. But then I spotted a brown paper bag with a half-full bottle of beer Melissa’d been sipping on in the afternoon (Doesn’t that just conjure up an image?) and Eureka, beer pancakes came to mind. Beer pancakes taste somewhat like sour dough pancakes, an easy alternative to having a live sour dough culture on hand. Not as much sour dough taste as I remember but in a previous lifetime I never had a flat beer on hand and back then the cakes on the griddle were exceptionally bubbly. Maybe pale ale wasn’t the best choice. Also I forgot the salt because I was talking away while cooking and really shouldn’t multi-task, at least while cooking. They were good, not great....

The door opened outwardly Drawing a gust of air Redolent of beer and dried sweat, A hint of diesel and fir pitch, The room smelled of men.

The Apple Orchard Powers Park

Just watched "Grease" and the school carnival scene reminded me of these photos from the Deschutes County Fair.

Last of the blackberry summer wine vinegar used on a salad today.  I didn't make enough.  It was extremely easy to make:  I picked a big bowl of blackberries, dropped the cleaned berries in a jar, then poured white vinegar to cover.  I let it steep for a few weeks, (the color got darker and darker,) then strained it through paper coffee filters.  I added an unmeasured amount of sugar and reduced it a bit on the stove top.  The result was a perfect tart/sweet - which I hope to duplicate next berry season. I'm back to balsamic vinegar for the duration.  

I’m not sure if being single is my allure to married men or if it’s my insouciant charm (probably that) but they appear repeatedly in my life. Perceived as a wanton divorcee? Oh my. A couple examples: A girlfriend was visiting and we were whipping up an elaborate dinner for ourselves, when there was a knock, knock, knock at the door. Who was this? To my astonishment, there stood my stinking-drunk married boss; he knew where I lived because he’d followed me home. Creepy. It stands to reason he wouldn’t have come to my house had I a husband. My friend (thank god she was there or things might have turned out very differently) and I were at a loss on how to proceed. My boss couldn’t be allowed to drive in his inebriated state. If we phoned any fellow employees, a huge drama would ensue, and I’d likely get fired (those who don’t generate revenue, etc.) So we stuck him in a bedroom in hopes he’d sober up, and went on with our dinner. We drank plenty of wine to blot out the occasional ...