Notes From a Debacle
8 hours ago
"Since this column is not nationally syndicated (yet), just call me the most angry black man in these 7.5 square miles called Trenton."My mind went back to grade school grammar lessons, specifically, to the one on superlatives. English is a particularly difficult language to learn, because there are so many exceptions to the rules. For instance, you have the tricky "good/bad" trios: good, better, best; bad, worse, worst. But not all superlatives are irregular, though; sometimes we just add an "-er" or "-est" (or "-ier" or "-iest" to the end of a word, and call it a day. For instance, the tomato pie at X's is tasty. But Y's is tastier, and Z's is the tastiest.
[Blogger's note to my fellow Trenton bloggers, and anyone else really: I have discovered in recent weeks that food content increases blog readership. It's certainly not why I do it, since I didn't even make the connection until yesterday. I just love food. And I love sitemeter, too. Don't you? I got a lot of hits on a cucumber soup recipe I posted when my garden was producing tons of cukes. I also get surprising traffic thanks to the Google search term "Mike-Holmes-Shirtless." You may recall, I droned on some weeks ago about how cool it would be if Canadian renovation man, Mike Holmes (who happens to look nice without a shirt), came to Trenton to help fix things up. By the way, I think Mike has gotten too big for his Carhartt overalls, though he still looks good in them, and even though his ego has grown, his heart is still in the right place (in that shirtless chest), and certainly couldn't hurt if he came to Trenton to renovate.]Speaking of produce, we found one lone jalapeño growing in what's left of our garden, over the weekend. Glen picked it, and requested that we use it in a meal. Jalapeños are so versatile, but what does one do with ONE? I evaluated the contents of the fridge and kept focusing on a mostly intact, fresh head of celery, hating myself for buying celery and consuming only a few stalks before it turns into a smelly, slimy, blackish-brown glop. I couldn't let it happen again. It's finally getting cold, which gives me a legitimate excuse to make soup, so I did what I always do: I sautéed the vegetables, in this case, the celery, chopped up; added garlic, some salt and pepper, and the solitary jalapeño, and then puréed everything in the blender. I added chicken broth and milk until I liked the consistency, and put the mixture back on the stove to simmer. I didn't really know what to expect, since I didn't follow a recipe. But Glen really liked this off-the-cuff creamy celery soup – he's a vocal guy, and doesn't mince words when he doesn't like something (you may recall my post last week about Glen's assumptions and opinions about food). He liked it so much, that he's excited we'll be having some more with dinner tonight, along with some pot pie I made as well, which isn't really true pot pie; the qualities that make a pot pie officially a pot pie are discussed on my friend Bill's (formerly of Trenton) blog. But it's still pretty damn tasty, and was made right here in my kitchen in Trenton, NJ, a kitchen in which I happily spend a lot of time (without police protection!), unlike some other "residents" of Trenton who live, in say, Sterling, or Stockton, NJ.*