2 5.3-oz ziggurats of goat cheese, $1.99 each
2 8-oz wedges of Asiago cheese, $2.59 each
1 6.5-oz tub of fresh Mozzarella medallions, $.99
1 12-oz tub of Mascarpone, $.99
1 pkg flatbread, $.59
6 cans carrots, $.58 each
6 cans whole corn, $.58 each
1 can sliced peaches in water, $.79
4 packets whole grain banana muffin mix, $.39 each*
2 pizza crust mixes, $.59 each
1 box saltines, $.99
1 jar diced pimientos, $1.29
And the splurges:
2 bottles of sweet and sour sauce, $.79 each
1 box creamy acorn squash and mango soup [they had me at mango], $1.59
2 loaves cocktail bread; one pumpernickel and one sourdough, $.50 each, to go with the chêvre and that fig/walnut confit which is taking up space in my fridge
1 box imported orange flavored thin cookies, [can’t find the price tag]
1 jar mincemeat, $1.99
2 tins organic fair trade herbal tea, $.99 each
Total? $38.01, which will feed me for at least two weeks with what’s already in the pantry. Possibly for a month.
* The muffin mixes are for my contribution to the Bosses Day breakfast on Tuesday. If I’m making them for myself, I use overripe bananas and pecan halves. Every day is Bosses Day; these muffins will be good enough for who they’re for, as my late mother-in-law used to say.
No, I do not respond well to extortion; why do you ask?
I also went to the nut shop [as opposed to the nuthouse] and bought sliced almonds, roasted sunflower seeds, and pistachios in the shell. Healthy snacks for Ms. Ravelled, at least once all the Ben and Jerry’s is gone! While there, I got a couple more ideas for gift baskets at Christmas.
What did I make during my cook-fest over the weekend?
One crockpot full of bean and pumpkin soup. Note to self: next time, do not put in the sweetened coconut milk by mistake. Mr. Rogers wants to know, “Can you say gacky?” Thankfully, I only made a small crockpot full of this mess. I had to wash my mouth out with Ben and Jerry’s!
One leek and spinach tart. Middlest and I had some for lunch on Saturday. I had another slice for an early breakfast when I woke at 4:00 yesterday.
Mahi mahi nuked in lemon dill sauce.
When Middlest and I walked out to the compost pile to dispose of the leek tops and some geriatric dried thyme [its thyme had run out, alas!], I saw something red over by the tomato buckets.
One tiny, battle-scarred grape tomato with ADHD; it did not want to sit still for a portrait. I may have to try this again next spring!
A batch of egg and lemon soup. I will alternate that with the turbocharged pumpkin and bean soup until both are gone.
Some sun-dried tomato muffins. Remember that steal I got on sun-dried tomatoes at the scratch-and-dent grocery store? I substituted herbes de Provence for the thyme, as my thyme is out biding on the compost pile; these are more French than Italian. I also used up the last of my generic Parmesan, so I can buy the good stuff next payday!
The recipe I used is from the Williams Sonoma muffin cookbook, p. 79. I made a double batch and took most of them to the singles’ potluck and fireside. At great personal sacrifice. And brought very few of them back home again.
Oh, and my computer didn’t get the memo about DST not ending until next weekend. I was commuting back and forth between the kitchen and my bedroom, threading blocking wires into Juno Regina while the muffins baked, when I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 1:11pm.
Church started at 1:00. Oye. I had been keeping time all morning with the clock on my computer. So I missed sacrament meeting while I finished blocking Juno, and then I was all hot and sweaty from the threading and the reaching and the bending and the grunting and the no-AC-on, and then I filled the tub a little too high and had to let it drain before getting in. Not high enough per se to flood the bathroom, just too high for the water and me to both stay in the tub at the same time if I did get in.
I give you Juno, blocking. Henceforth to be known as Juno the Sabbath Breaker. But hey, I had a shawl in the mire. I couldn’t just drive off and leave her half blocked.
The singles fireside last night was good. It was edifying, rather than merely entertaining. The food was delicious, and I got to visit with several friends during dinner. My dear friend N’s oldest son D is now a singles rep in his ward, which hosted the evening. Brother Abacus chose to sit across the table from me at dinner. He asked how I was doing. I told him I was living alone, and loving my peaceful, quiet, restful life. He hates being single. I told him that was because he hasn’t been single long enough. He asked how long that was. I told him, however long it took for it to become peaceful.
At one point D told a story from his mission in France, where he was having difficulty explaining the difference between Texas fajitas and California fajitas to a woman who thought she knew all there was to know about fajitas. He had been put in charge of a ward or branch activity, and she thought he was doing it wrong but graciously conceded at the end of the evening that the activity had been a success. I remarked that we women always like to have the last word.
Brother Abacus said, “Boy, that’s the truth!” [I’m sure that he was remembering the letter I wrote him when he ghosted on me.] I just smiled and raised an eyebrow at him.
She shoots, she scores!
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