Cooking With Mark

All right, all right. I'll update my blog. Sheesh.

So... what's everyone been up to?

Me? Eh, not much, which is why I haven't updated, so BACK OFF, OK?!

Juuuust kidding.

Actually I've been up to plenty. I've been learning how to cook thanks to Mark Bittman's excellent book, How To Cook Everything. It's wonderful because it's a not a strict, mindless cookbook with endless ingredients in the recipes. It leaves plenty of room for experimentation but gives you the basics, which is what I desperately need. (I had to ask coworkers a few weeks ago how they sauté green beans.)

Since Mark came into my life, I've pressed, marinated and fried tofu. (See photo). Granted, this is not difficult considering tofu is already "cooked," but still, if you don't know how to make it taste good, you don't know how. Despite how "easy" it is.

I also made some delicious sautéed lemon chicken, have roasted sweet potatoes and am threatening to make my own (albeit simple) pasta sauce.

And I bought some oil, spices and a bag of flour. Apparently these are things most people normally have in their kitchens.

My favorite part of this cookbook is that I can take something I have already - egg noodles, for example - and Mark's index will direct me toward his favorite egg noodle recipes. I love this guy.

How To Cook Everything probably isn't right for experienced foodies like Jen, who can whip up fantastic things easily, but it's great for people like me. I was so lost in the baking aisle this weekend, unsure of the long row of grains and mixes, that I had to call my dad to ask what corn starch looks like. "Is it in a bag, like flour," I asked.

Turns out, No. Corn starch comes in a box.

This weekend Mark and I will make a delicious sounding creamy tofu that he swears will convert non-tofu eaters. Get ready for that Tall Drink of Water! Because despite how easy these recipes are, I still gag whenever I touch raw meat, which really hinders my cooking abilities. Though I am getting better.

I'd like to thank Mark for that.

Such Great Heights

My face was broke out. I was wearing pajama pants and The Tall Drink of Water had just run six miles.

We were lying on the couch. I think Sports Center was on. Or maybe it was a game. It was around midnight last Monday.

At first I thought he was kidding. TDW said that he'd had a conversation with the cats (this isn't unusual - we often pretend to have lengthy conversations with the cats) and that they'd all agreed that we should get married.

I, of course, cracked a joke. "All four of us? But they're boys. Isn't that illegal?"

"No, not them. Us," he said, and his voice cracked. That's how I knew he was serious.

Then the Tall Drink of Water handed me a groovy little ring. It's a double band with a hammered center and no other woman on this planet would consider it engagement ring. So of course it's perfect. (It's great fun to show it off. The reaction starts out with "Ooh!" Then drops to a short, "oh." Then a quick, "It's very you," is added. I can only hope that our wedding gets a similar reaction.)

And that's the story of how we got engaged 10 days ago.

This photo is completely unrelated to the moment. But it says it all - rapture, unbridled passion, commitment, my inability to not lick his face at parties.

Thanks to The Postal Service for the title of this post. Though TDW and I both prefer the Iron & Wine version. See, we're totally soulmates.

The Daugherty Farm: Cornhole Edition

The first ever Daugherty cornhole tournament was this weekend, with the Tall Drink of Water and my mom on a team and my dad and I on another.

The games were tight, but ultimately my dad and I won two out of three games and a fourth just for fun. But we all threw good bags. (That's lingo I learned from the cornhole tournament story I wrote a while back.) My dad kept calling my mom Cornholio because she got the most cornholes out of everyone. And it would make her laugh and mess up her throws.

This all started because Saturday I drove home to Indiana with the Tall Drink of Water to watch an IWU baseball game with my dad. With me I had directions for how to make a cornhole set that I'd printed off the Internet.

My plan was to drop off the directions to my retired, woodworking dad and roll on outta town the next day and let him go to work. But no sooner than he'd examined the instructions did he get a gleam in his eye and say, "This is gonna be exciting!"

Ten minutes later TDW, my dad and I were all three in the front of his pick-up truck driving to the lumber yard. About two and half hours later, we were playing cornhole in the front yard under the street lamp.

Thanks to Mike Brungs of Florence for typing up the instructions and putting them on his Web site for me to Google and find. They were perfect. The only mistakes we had were mine. I thought we needed two sheets of plywood. We didn't.

And even though we had a jigsaw, a circular saw, a drill and various other tools, we didn't have a sewing machine. We went to Tractor Supply and bought a bag of whole corn to make the bags but realized sewing the bags without a sewing machine would take longer than it took to build the things. But low and behold, a Marion sporting goods store sold the bags. They also sell cornhole sets (called Bag-O there), for $130.

All told I spent about $40 on materials, with $20 of that for the store-bought bags. (Outrageous!) And I took back the extra sheet of plywood and the corn.

Of course my dad really built them, with TDW and I doing a lot of standing around and holding things. (Much like my childhood: "Here, Gina, hold this." Three hours later I'd be numb and still holding a flashlight, a piece of wood, the hood of a car, etc.)

With this set built, my dad is already imagining ways to make the legs collapsible. I imagine it won't be too long before he's tweaked the instructions to make the cornhole set lighter, slicker and more compact. Just like the fancy ones at the store.

No. 1.

Missing

A week ago yesterday I took off my watch and my Livestrong bracelet at the same time, put them on the bathroom counter, shut the door and took a shower.

When I got out the Livestrong bracelet was on the floor and I couldn't find the watch. I haven't seen it since.

At first I didn't think much about it. I figured maybe I left it on my dresser or somewhere. Nope. I've searched everywhere, even in the trash cans looking for it.

I considered that one of the cats might have gotten it but I've ruled them out as culprits. For one, they're too fat to get onto the bathroom counter and two, they're too lazy to play with anything, let alone a big Ironman watch.

The only time I ever take off my watch is when I'm showering, so it isn't possible I took it off for another reason and left it somewhere. It didn't break off or I would have noticed it missing when I went to take a shower.

So where the hell is it? And why was my bracelet on the floor?

Baffling.