Adventures in Dinnertime: Chicken Surprise

The Domestic Goddess has been quiet for a while.

Perhaps it's because she is exhausted; from mid-November to mid-January, there is a LOT going on, food- and mommying-wise.

These goings on include, but are not limited to: the ramp-up to Christmas season, the 3rd Huffling's birthday, the countdown to Christmas, that fun space between Christmas and New Year's Eve when you have to spend every day with your children  (remember? you love them), to the 1st Huffling's birthday. All of this involves a lot of baking and planning and grooming and cleaning up (before and afterwards). It's exhausting.

So, last night at 5:30 pm, the DG realized that, not only had she not planned dinner, she hadn't even taken anything out of the freezer to thaw. And the fridge was pretty empty of anything that could be eaten for dinner. This, of course, is different from "the fridge was pretty empty". No, our fridge still looks full, but it's full of condiments, wine and yogurt, while containing no actual food. See Figure 1.

Fig. 1. Fridge full of not food. (Image: author's own)

I pulled some frozen chicken thighs from the freezer (the DG is suddenly too tired to refer to herself in the third person), and popped them into a nice warm-water bath in the sink. While that was thawing (sort of), I chopped an onion, three past-their-prime carrots, and some very wan, floppy celery, and sauted them with a bit of oil.*

At this point, the chicken was (sort of) unfrozen, and easily hacked chopped into bitish-size pieces, sprinkled with mixed dried herbs and S&P, then added to the mirepoix** to brown. Once the meat was sealed, I added about a tablespoon of Hidden Valley ranch dressing mix and glooped in about 1/2 cup of salsa, and covered to let simmer for about fifteen minutes. Et voila.

I gave each kid a scoop of egg-fried rice (leftovers that Chris made from his new cookbook) and topped it with this concoction.

The kids peered into their bowls, suspicious.

"What is it?" they asked.

"Chicken Surprise," I responded.

Tamsin blew on hers and ventured a small bite. She sat up taller and shot me a thumbs-up.

"It's really good," she said. The other two agreed.

I did jazz hands. "Surprise!"






* Fun British Fact: Canola Oil, as it is known in Canada, was actually rebranded from the British Rapeseed Oil. Same oil, different name. (I assume there was a focus group.)

** Fun French Fact, taken word-for-word from Wikipedia: "Though the cooking technique is probably older, the word mirepoix dates from the 18th century and derives, as do many other appellations in French cuisine, from the aristocratic employer of the cook credited with establishing and stabilizing it: in this case, Charles-Pierre-Gaston François de Lévis, duc de Lévis-Mirepoix (1699–1757), French field marshal and ambassador and a member of the noble family of Lévis, lords of Mirepoix, Ariège, in Languedoc since the 11th century. According to Pierre Larousse (quoted in The Oxford Companion to Food), the unfortunate Duke of Mirepoix was "an incompetent and mediocre individual ... who owed his vast fortune to the affection Louis XV felt toward his wife and who had but one claim to fame: he gave his name to a sauce made of all kinds of meat and a variety of seasonings.""

It’s About Time Someone Willen Have Invented Time Travel

Three short, mostly-unrelated essays about time travel

Photo by Eric Prouzet on Unsplash

My dream job: editor for time travel writers.

“One of the major problems encountered in time travel is not that of becoming your own father or mother… The major problem is simply one of grammar, and the main work to consult in this matter is Dr. Dan Streetmentioner’s Time Traveler’s Handbook of 1001 Tense Formations.” — Douglas Adams

...

About Time is one of my favourite movies; it’s a beautiful movie about love and time travel, in which the (“too tall, too skinny, too orange”) main character goes back and forth within his own lifetime...

...

The brilliantly whimsical Stephen Hawking once famously held a party for time travellers. Unfortunately, nobody showed up, thus proving that time travel can never be accomplished...

Read more...

The Cranky Book Reviewer Just Read the Worst Book Ever

Plot Twist: Turns out the Cranky Book Reviewer has a conscience

My mother recently sent me a book with a note that read, and I'm not making this up, "Please read and tell me if I'm correct - this could be the worst ever first book, self published, terrible editing, etc... Or is it just me?"

Photographic evidence that I'm the way I am for a reason.
(image credit: author's own)

I have a few problems with this.* 

First, she knows I'm trying to write a "first book" as well. And I know, that, should I ever send it out for publishing at some point (oh help), not everyone will like it and there will probably be at least one typo or inconsistency because that happens. But what if someone feels this way about my novel-to-be?

Second, she mailed a book to England because she thought it was really awful and wanted me to read it too.

Chris, on the other hand, was just horrified by the whole thing (so, status quo). Not only did his wife's mother mail her a book that she knew was really, really bad, but his wife then read out a selection of extremely poorly-written passages every night, just to share how really, really bad it truly was.

So, yes, I'm going to tear it apart (somewhat respectfully), but I'm not going to reveal the name of the book or the author (unless you contact me and ask me directly), because that would be mean. If  someone were to take the time to absolutely eviscerate my labour of love in a blog post, it would really hurt my feelings, and I don't want to be that terrible person.

(I will, however, share far too many horribly-written passages with you, because why should Chris be the last one in the chain?)

This book is so, so bad, except for one thing

The trouble with trying to review a book that is this bad is that I don't know where to start. I mean, everything about it was bad, except the spelling. The spelling was fine. But the rest was terrible.

Disbelief leads to absolute fear as his heart rips out of his chest. Several sentences later, M---'s heart just shatters. 

Wait, did it shatter after it was ripped out of his chest? Ohhhh...they were metaphors. I see.

Grammar

It was bad. Comma splicing, run-on sentences, repetitive phrases, semicolons where colons should be, you name it. I'd guess that English is not the author's first language, but where was their editor?

A month passes and I--- is doing extremely well at losing weight. L--- notices that she is slimming down. "I---, you're doing great! I am noticing that you are slimming down."

The beeping of the heart monitor, the wires connecting her to machines, instantly as he sees her, an overwhelming sorrow replaces his numbness.

Plot sequencing

To be technical, the book has no causal chain. It's all, this happened then this happened then this happened and he said this and she said that then he did this. It's billed as a novel, but is very obviously written about the author's father's life (including photos of him). However, most people's lives don't (usually) have natural story arcs and denouements and B-stories. If they do, it's because of careful editing. Of which there wasn't any.

Example, because why-should-I-suffer-alone:

J--- starts her engine and heads for A---. When they arrive, I---'s heart starts to beat very rapidly. She gets out of the vehicle, takes a deep breath, and wipes her tears. J--- walks in with I---, and I--- takes a seat to wait her turn. J--- then walks to the secretary and announces the appointment with Dr. B--- for I--- B---. The secretary nods and tells J--- to go to room 2 with I---, and Dr. B--- will be there shortly. They both walk toward the room. J--- opens the door and tells I--- to go in and sit down; Dr. B--- will be in shortly, according to the secretary.

I mean, really.

The tone

Yes, it's a blow-by-blow recounting of someone's life, but somehow it's also painfully unrealistic and trite. The main characters are obnoxiously in love and are very happy together. We know this because it is stated, repeatedly, that they are very much in love and so happy together.

They all proceed to their bedrooms and even though it is a difficult time, there is a general feeling of peace and contentment in the house.

She suddenly has a feeling that her husband deserves only the best in life since he's such a good person.

Then he kisses her passionately and everyone claps hands with joy to see L--- and I--- so much in love with each other.

The Cranky Book Reviewer isn't having any of this. And neither is Ziggy.
(image credit: author's own)

The dialogue

Oh, the dialogue. My favourites include:

"Why! Why! Why!" L--- asks himself.

On finding out he might have cancer, a character exclaims: "Cancer! That is a lot to take in, considering I was going to ask you to go home because I am feeling fine."

"Paige is in good hands with my little sister, Marie."  The main character says this to his parents when his sister-in-law mentions that her baby was with Marie. He only has one sister, and his parents ... uh... already know her.

To sum up

This was the worst book I have ever read. 

It is valuable as a cautionary tale, however: beware the dangers of self-publishing. The author wrote a 326-page book that they thought was good enough to publish. Their friends and family all supported them. Nowhere along the way did anyone stop this from happening, and because of that, my mother inflicted it on me, and I inflicted it on Chris.

This could happen to me. But now, I have a goal. When I publish my (probably terrible) first novel, I just want one thing. I want it to be better than this book.

/end cranky

(for now)



* My therapist, however, has dozens of problems with this.

The Cranky Book Reviewer read Esme's Gift by Elizabeth Foster

Disclaimer: I was provided with a free copy of this book in return for providing a review. There was no payment involved. 

Image from Amazon.com

Esme's Gift is the second book in the Esme Trilogy by Elizabeth Foster.

Summary (these are only spoilers if you haven't read Esme's Wish first)

I read Esme's Gift with interest, eager to follow the 15-year-old protagonist on her continued quest to save her mother, who is now lying unresponsive, in a healer's room in the magical land of Aeolia. In this installment of the story, Esme continues to explore and discover the new world around her as she learns to control her magical gift, which she thinks might be key to waking up her mother.

If you liked Harry Potter and The Hunger Games...

I noticed several shared themes with other popular YA series, but Ms. Foster approached the similarities in very different, more nuanced ways. 

If you look beyond a school full of magical classes, conflict between purebred families and otherworlders (kaff -- muggles) and corrupt politicians campaigning for control, there is a solid story about how Esme handles herself and the work she needs to do to master her magical abilities. There are themes of inner conflict between loyalty to her father and staying in the new world to help her mother. There are also undercurrents of empathy vs. cynicism as well as trust and overcoming prejudice from peers, teachers and authority figures. It's a lot to pick apart, but they are ably and naturally woven into the story.

What's good about this book?

Like the first book, there's lots of adventure and travel to absolutely beautifully-described places. The characters are intriguing and more dimensional, and some of the unanswered questions from the first book are resolved, while other mysteries are introduced (this is a trilogy, after all). And of course, there are dragons.

The author's use of language has matured, and descriptive metaphors take the place of similes. And -- it's happening -- there are awkwardly sweet attempts at setting up a romance (come on, book 3!). 

Overall, this book is a wonderful sequel to Esme's Wish, with increased character development and maturing themes (still very sweet), as well as even better writing than in the first.

The Cranky Book Reviewer also doesn't see the point of office dogs. What do they even do?
(Image credit: author's own)

Age recommendation

I'd recommend Esme's Gift to 12-15-year-olds. The themes of trust vs. distrust and the cynicism towards authority are a little darker than in the first book, as well as creating empathy via the various villains backstories, but there is nothing really inappropriate in it for younger teens.

My rating:

4 1/2 stars out of 5

I'm happy to have read it, and yes, I'd love to read the third book in the trilogy when it's finished!


Do you have a book you'd like reviewed? Contact me.

Simply Having a Wonderful Houghmastime

The moon is right, the spirits up

As Christmas 2019 starts to fade into the rearview mirror, we want to capture some of the more memorable moments.

Vaughn's submission to the Marylebone Christmas card competition.
He didn't win, but we liked it the best.

As always, December was mild, if rainy, and a busy, busy time, full of receptions (Chris and I), so many birthday parties (kids), and far too much merrymaking (Wine. So much wine). These are some of the fun-and-weird highlights of the holidays this year:

The choir of children sing their song

We're pretty sure Vaughn was on the stage, too. We think.

The season kicked off with the older two singing at the Marylebone Christmas Lights concert, where fake snow and street food made everyone merry. All three sang in their school concert as well, and even Tamsin's Grade 2 class' version of Ding Dong Merrily on High was not only recognizable, but rather good: a Christmas miracle, as it were.

Ailsa's first violin concert. She rocked.

And Ailsa performed at her first violin concert! She's only been playing since September, but is already getting a lovely sound out of a potentially horrifying instrument.

The party's on

This is the real DeLorean from Back to the Future. The kids were sort of impressed.

Amidst the flurry of parties and outings (and too much wine almost every night!), our good friends invited us to an amazing night out at a luxury car showroom, surrounded by food, wine and entertainment, where we and the kids mingled with London's elite. They also sat in the actual, real live car from Back to the Future, which we told them all about, and they thought was cool...until the next day when we let them watch the movie and their fuzzy little minds were blown. 

(No Beatles were injured) 

Christmas Eve in London. It's a hardship.

Speaking of the elite, a highlight, for sure, was on Christmas Eve, when we took advantage of a beautiful day to rollerskate and scooter to the park. The kids rolled on ahead down the sidewalk, out of reach/possibly out of control, while Chris and I followed behind with Ziggy. Half a block away, we saw a couple leaving their gate, with our kids bearing down on them like three, "Christmas hoodlums".

Or, at least, that's what Paul McCartney called them when Tamsin narrowly missed running him over. I apologized profusely, wished him and his wife a merry Christmas, and then skipped away. That's right. My takeaway is twofold: 1) I finally talked to Sir Paul, 2) without any inappropriate touching. Woot woot!

(Next time, I'll try to get a photo of him surviving a run-in with my children.)

A visit from St. Nick.

There will be a follow-up post in a few days for Christmas itself, but let me assure you that all were spoiled. Here's hoping that your holidays were as special and magical as ours were, and that you, too, had a simply wonderful Christmastime.