Second Place is Tops for Me!

If I had known grandson Nathaniel’s pastry competition would be streamed live, I would have moved heaven and earth to find it. I didn’t miss it, though, thanks to grandson David. David was looking at his phone when Nathaniel’s dad posted the link on Facebook. David and I sat there with our eyes glued to the phone screen for the full hour. Oh! My! Was it exciting! This was the fourth annual Iron Chef competition for Johnson & Wales University. David helped me download the video and trim it, so we can show it to John when he gets home from the train club. The pictures below are stills from the Facebook video

There were four contestants, one from each of the Johnson & Wales campuses. Left to right, they were Darius from Miami, Nathaniel from Charlotte, Alina from Providence, and Zoe from Denver. As soon as they were introduced, the clock s 042619 20 Before fourth place announced.jpg tarted. They had one hour to prepare and plate a dessert for the judges. I haven’t watched many cooking shows, but this seemed like some I had seen on TV. The MC chef moved around the kitchen, chatting with the contestants as they worked. This show was sponsored by Rich’s, so the students had to incorporate one product from that manufacturer.

It seemed to me that every time Nathaniel was approached, he responded well. The comment said over and over about him was that he was in control. What better thing to say about a person under extreme pressure! He kept his cool and finished his dessert on time.

At the end, I expected the judges to critique the dishes, pointing out good and bad points. Perhaps because of time constraints, they skipped this step. The chef announced the fourth and third places. That left Nathaniel and Alina in the running, and they turned to shake hands.

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Alina danced with joy when she won the competition. One had to be thrilled with her accomplishment. She was a fourth-year student with 042619 16 Winning entry.jpg experience, and she was extremely articulate while cooking. Her dessert was unusual and was presented impressively.

The official winner? Alina. First place for me? Nathaniel. He made individual molten chocolate cakes with a strawberry sauce, topped with fresh strawberries. I could almost feel that winning taste explode in my mouth.

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Gran’s Pride

It’s no wonder women gossip, because half the human race is not very forthcoming. Sixty years ago my mom told me the only way she could find out anything from my brother was to fire questions at him. He would volunteer to spread gravel in your driveway or lead devotions before school started, but volunteer information? No way! It wasn’t part of his makeup. John is a bit better than that with me. I get the bare bones of a story and have to pump him for details or make them up myself. My story today began after John hung up from talking with grandson Nathaniel several weeks ago.

John began with the summary. He said, “Nate won a cake-baking contest at school, and they are going to fly him to the Providence campus to compete in the next round.”

The summary was all I was going to get without mashing his brain for more. What did he bake? Does he have a photo of it? When is the trip? How long will he be gone? How will he get to the airport? Will somebody meet him in Providence? What will he bake next? Will he get to see his friends up there? When will he know the results? Was he excited?

I didn’t get any more information, because the grandson didn’t give him details. I’m sure both fellows were totally satisfied that they had sent and received the bare facts as required. No more needed to be said.

Fast forward to the present. I was aware that Nathaniel was traveling today and had him in my thoughts. My phone dinged, and this photo is what I found with the caption, “Wish me luck.”

Because there is an old family story about condensation on a plane, I asked, “The plane isn’t leaking, is it?”

He replied, “Nah, I’m on a large plane.” I had forgotten that he was once on a small plane and took a photo of water dripping from an overhead bin. We chatted back and forth with totally inane conversation until he said the announcement came they were taking off.

[I could not get the Gutenberg editor to let me position this photo with an earlier paragraph. This is most frustrating.]

Nathaniel texted again to say he was in Philadelphia. He wrote, “I am at my next gate! First time ever in Philadelphia I’ve had a short walk!!! Usually I am booking it across the airport.”

I finally asked one meaningful question. “Are you doing anything to prepare for the competition, or is everything last minute?” He said, “Last minute. I have no choice.”

Make that two good questions. “What time shall I be praying extra hard for you?”

He replied, “10:45 – 11:45 on Friday.” A few minutes later, “Taking off now, bye.”

A little while later he sent this photo of his motel room. I could fill in the blanks for that. Someone picked him up at the airport and dropped him off. He also said there would be a nice dinner in the evening. Three friends who were with him in the high school culinary program are students at the Providence campus. They will see each other after the competition. John did mention that Nathaniel had the option of flying back to Charlotte Saturday or Sunday. He chose Sunday and will spend all day Saturday with his friends.

You don’t have to tell me that I complained without cause. I wasn’t any better at getting information than John. What I do know for sure is that I am one proud grandmother. I can’t believe this grandson won a contest and was jetting about the country by himself, and he is only 19 years old. Well done, Nathaniel!

It’s no wonder the boy likes cake. When we celebrated his birthday, his mom always bought him a beautiful cake. The photo shows him at age 10.

Pimiento Cheese

What is the first thing you would do if you were alone in your home? I took a nap and decided I’d think about what I wanted to do when I woke up. John and grandson David went to the train club, so I’ll have over 24 hours to make choices before David comes back. John will return in four days.

The thing I am least likely to do when people are around is read a book. I opened one where I’d left off days ago and immersed myself in it. Lots of my blogging friends are voracious readers, and I want to know how you do it. How do you bring yourself back to the real world after being totally in another? I become the main character and float through that setting as if there were no other. With no interruptions, I covered several years in the character’s life. I surfaced when the setting flipped to another decade, which seemed to break the spell. Do any of you set a timer to come back to life? I suspect it could be dangerous to lose oneself in a book. What if you never came back?

John started the dishwasher before he left. I don’t like starting a meal until the kitchen is in order, so I put the clean dishes away before making the next choice. With no one to cook for, I opted to prepare pimiento cheese for light meals. My mother served it fairly often, so it’s comfort food for me. What a rude shock I had when I married John and moved north! No one, NO ONE, would eat it! Evidently it was popular only in the South. People weren’t content to say no thank you. They looked at me like I had two heads. These same people could eat the stinkiest cheese in the world and smack their lips over ones that tasted rotten to me, but they refused to touch pimiento cheese. As you can imagine, I never served it to anyone again. There is only person who shares it with me now, son John $. I don’t always remember to make it when he is coming, but I should. Is there anyone reading this who would eat pimiento cheese? If so, you are my soul sister or soul brother, and I love you.

Looking for Floods

We had a lot of rain and kept seeing flood warnings on our cell phones. John opted for half a walk, because he is recovering from a sinus infection and possibly the flu. I walked on to check Jonathan Creek and brought him a photo to show him how high it was. We have lived here four and a half years and have never seen it escape from its banks. It was nowhere near flood stage this time.

While driving in Asheville, we saw the French Broad River flooding low areas. A few vehicles and houses were wading in the water, but most were above it. David posed at a riverside picnic area to show how high the river was there.

David with the flooded French Broad River

We drove on through some small towns and stopped for lunch in one of them. The cafe catered to locals and a few travelers. It was fun to hear the speech around us. The great granddaughter of the owner, dressed in a Cinderella costume, played among the tables. She climbed into the booth with a local woman she knew and sang Puff, the Magic Dragon. You don’t expect free entertainment at a cafe in the middle of the day.

We drove along the Pigeon River that runs through the gorge connecting North Carolina and Tennessee. The river was definitely out of its banks, judging by many trees standing in the muddy, rushing water. Because it was a rather humdrum flood, I failed to take a picture to share. It rained off and on all day, and after we came home, we saw the forecast for snow in a few hours. We were highly skeptical that it would happen, but our eyes slid to the window every once in a while just to check.

War With Wicked Weeds

Call me wacky, but I was the woman who waged war with wicked weeds. Whew!! Both John and I had trimmed bushes and trees in the garden last Fall, leaving the branches on the ground. Major mistake! I intended to pick them up long before Spring had sprung. Not only were the branches covered by fallen leaves, they had been overrun by very vicious weeds. If I were naming the weed, I would tentatively call it “octopus”. ~~Tentacles~~ Tendrils wove themselves into a thick mat over leaves and branches. I could hardly see some of the sticks and had to tug at the mess to get them. What a mess!

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Next year I shall trim bushes with a wheelbarrow beside me.

Flying Visit in a Car

Brother Bob and wife Beth texted from Pigeon Forge that they could drop by on their way home. How marvelous it was to have a few hours with them! Poor John had the flu, so Beth and Bob spoke to him from a distance and took David and me out to lunch.

It would have been a normal lunch at our favorite Mexican restaurant, but Bob noticed a special chicken soup on the menu. It would take 20 minutes to make it. We weren’t in a hurry, so we talked until the food was ready. What a huge bowl it was! This was not a trick photo, with the bowl being near the camera. It really was that big. The waiter said some restaurants keep it on hand, but they make it only when it’s ordered. Bob said it was delicious and worth the wait.

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Back at our house, we sat on the porch to visit and eat Brownies until they had to leave. With long distances involved, we rarely see family on the spur of the moment. This was very special.

Kitchen Air Freshener

Quite accidentally, I discovered a delightful new air freshener for the kitchen. Grandson David and I were cleaning up after a meal one day, and we smelled a marvelous scent that we couldn’t identify at first. Pancakes and coffee came to mind. We hadn’t had pancakes recently. Son John $ was in our house while we were in New York, but he wouldn’t have had that. It finally dawned on me that I had dropped a coffee filter on the floor before we took our trip. Loose coffee was on the floor, and I used the dust buster to clean it up. The flavor of the special grind was bacon/maple. The next time we used the little machine, it dispensed that scent throughout the kitchen. Of course, this lasted only until we emptied it, but it was great until then.

Driving the Old Folks

Both John and grandson David find speed limit signs inspiring. They push to the outer edge of the legal limit no matter where they are. Because John was coming down with a cold, David drove us to visit son John $. His place is only 30 miles away, but it takes at least an hour to drive over three mountain ridges to get there. David whizzed around hairpin turns until I thought I’d get whiplash trying to see the gorgeous scenery and derelict barns, laced together with bubbling streams. He slowed down when we asked him to. After going through $’s town, David realized we were not due there for another 15 minutes. He drove slower and slower on River Road until I burst out laughing. John could have out-walked the car at five miles per hour.

“David!” I said. “People are going to look in the car and feel sorry for you, having to drive the old geezers at a walking pace!”

With that, he hunched over like a buzzard and pushed his face forward. I couldn’t quit laughing, and John joined in. It was a lovely, warm day, and people were sitting on the porches of their vacation cabins. If they noticed our pace and heard our cackles, they would have thought the inmates of the insane asylum had escaped.

We picked up $ and drove to the Iron Horse, one of our favorite places to eat. David was the first to see the headlight of the train engine as we parked. He and John jumped out to watch it pass. That was a high point of their day. I didn’t listen to them, but I’m sure they were counting the number of freight cars that passed.

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Back at $’s house, we relaxed on the porch. David saw a number of butterflies. $ explained that there is a rare white butterfly found only in that area and in California. He has a friend who is an expert on butterflies, and that man brings people in to see them.

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$ took David on a quick hike, while John and I gazed at the river and listened to the water rushing over small boulders. They hoped to see a small black bear that $ has seen often this winter. He thinks it’s the same one we saw when daughter Lise came for Thanksgiving. They had a nice walk together, but they didn’t spot the bear.

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We drove up a private road for a grand view of the river valley.

Stopping by the place where John works, the fellows played a fast game of Foosball. I had never watched that game before and found it amusing.

041319 David $ Foosball.JPG

We had a lovely drive home as the sun was setting behind the mountains. David may have been glad his chauffeuring day was over, but he didn’t say so.

How Wet??

We walked under 5% to 10% chance-of-rain clouds. When almost to the creek, the halfway point, we felt sprinkles. I persuaded John to go on to the creek with me, and right away urged him to go back home. He dislikes raindrops on his head. Bless his heart, he kept walking with me. Real rain fell from the creek all the way home.

I was wet enough that:

I took off my glasses to see the road.

My eyebrows failed to function.

My shoes squished with each step – wet from the top. John heard the squishy sounds!!

We came in via the laundry room to remove shoes.

I laid clothes out to dry before putting them in the laundry basket.

My hair needed no extra water before the application of shampoo.

John discovered his jacket was water-repellent. I was not wearing a jacket, and I found my skin was as waterproof as it ever was. Thankfully, the camera and phone were not harmed. There is no selfie. If there were one, John would frame it and silently point to it on every cloudy day.

A Retirement Monday

Grandson David had the day off, and we decided to have a short day trip after the car was serviced. Being in Asheville would give us a quick start. The car place didn’t take long, but as we drove away, David was called into work. We knew that might happen. Rain was in the forecast, anyway, so we drove home. It was a lovely drive to nowhere.

John thought perhaps we might do a little gardening, and that’s exactly what I did. He took the garbage to the trash center, while I clipped some over-zealous tendrils that were trying to invade the garage. A light drizzle fell, gradually wetting my back. This was perfect for my first day in the garden this year. Twenty minutes was enough to make me feel quite virtuous. Doing the garbage run took him longer. I enjoyed a fresh cup of mocha coffee on the porch as the drizzle turned into a downpour.

This was as good a day as any to make a Christmas pie. I promised John a Cranberry Mince Pie last December and never made it. Surely this is not as theologically askew as you might think. We wouldn’t have Easter without Christmas, and Christmas would not be celebrated without Easter. John won’t quibble, and David won’t either. Besides, it will all be gone before Palm Sunday.

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In case you are wondering, I will not tag grandson Nathaniel on this. Even for a family-only dish, he would strive for perfection. I should not have dumped all the filling in the shell, because I suspected it would overflow. It did, but the cookie sheet caught it. There wasn’t enough dough to make a proper lattice crust. Nathaniel would have made another batch. I didn’t and went from batch to botch. I won’t bitch about the botch, because almost any Butch would eat it.