Category: food

FIFO

We’ve begun our third week of isolation. Our state, Oregon, has done well on containment. As of today, we stand at 538 confirmed cases and 8 fatalities. No fatalities have been reported in my city, Ashland. Nineteen cases are reported for Ashland. Our city hospital been set up as a COVID-19 county treatment center for mild to moderate cases.

The first two weeks of being sequestered at home, we cleaned, inventorying supplies on hand and reviewing recipe and meal ideas.

(Okay, when I say, ‘we’, I’m using the couple we. My wife has done 99.9% of this. My input has been almost negligible.)

My wife suggested first in, first out eating practices. The oldest stuff should be consumed first, if we agree it seems edible.

I countered: we want to use our fresh produce so that it doesn’t go to waste.

A compromise was agreed: FIFO would be employed one day, and a fresh meal the next. Whenever we do a FIFO meal, we’d add fresh produce, if it made sense. Smoothies would be consumed each day.

It’s been going well. We were well-supplied with staples. My partner baked. A can of old pumpkin was sacrificed (along with old cream cheese and an extra sweet potato) to make a pumpkin roll and pumpkin muffins. A quarter was consumed; the rest were frozen for future eating.

She slices and freezes bananas that become overly ripe (they’re used in smoothies). But when we’d had a large supply of them established, she made us banana-pecan muffins. Again, a few were consumed, but most were frozen.

Vegan split-pea soup followed, then roasted vegetable soup. Each lasted us several days.

Along the way, we’d been eating salads, which is our long-established habit. As COVID-19 practices and projections took shape, we began thinking in longer terms. While grocery stores have taken precautions and special hours set aside for people like us (over sixty years old), they also report supply chain issues. My wife has RA and is considered vulnerable. She didn’t want us going out if we could avoid it. But more supplies were needed.

Enter Instacart.

I created an Instacart account and explored it. Instacart supports four chains in our area: Safeway, Albertson’s, Fred Meyers, and Costco.

Costco! That’s our go-to place.

First I logged into Costo.com to check supplies. Out. Out. Out. Out.

I figured that resupplies would eventually arrive. I made it a daily practice to check. Finally, on Friday, bingo, several items that we wanted were now available. We also wanted fresh produce, for example, romaine, blueberries, bananas, celery, potatoes. Ah, that was available, but only if we shifted the order to Instacart.

Prices were compared. One, shopping groceries online with Costco is more expensive than shopping at the warehouse. Kind of expected, and they weren’t gouging us. Two, prices with Instacart were just a little more. Three, you tip your Instacart shopper.

Okay. We discussed it. Seeing that our supplies were going down, that cases in Ashland were going up, that the whole situation was unstable and uncertain, we put an Instacart order in last Friday.

The process itself was simple and well-organized. In fact, I consider it one of the better online shopping experiences that I’ve gone through. I was never confused about what was happening. They would tell us immediately if an item wasn’t available in our zip code. With some items, such as eggs, they warned us that they were in short supply, and brought up options. Cool.

Next were delivery instructions. Well, we didn’t want to break them directly into the house. We couldn’t leave them outside, either. I came up with an option: move one of the cars out of the garage and set up a table in there. When they were in route, we’d open the garage. They’d put the stuff in there.

The garage usually runs 48 – 52 degrees F at this time of year. We were only ordering one frozen item and a few refrigerated items. We’d put ice on those things and let everything stay out there overnight. Then, we’d clean it off and put it away.

Once the plan was established, we entered those instructions into our order and selected a delivery time. Delivery times were two hour windows on Saturday. They began at 2 PM. Well, we weren’t going anywhere… We selected two to four PM.

The order was received and processed within minutes. The system told us that we could change it, removing or adding things, until shopping was underway. After considering it overnight, we decided some of the stuff we’d ordered was too much, and removed them.

Next came our first ‘issue’, and it as small one. Our delivery window was moved to Sunday morning, 11 AM. Bummer. We were looking forward to it coming on Saturday. With little else to do, we were sort of focused on that happening. Oh, well, though.

Time passed. On a whim, I checked on the order.

Gadzooks! It was on the way. According to the email, it’d be arriving in about ten minutes.

Scramble, scramble, scramble! We were dressed, but had to follow up on our receiving plan. That done, a few minutes later, the delivery arrived.

Alicia P was our shopper and delivery person. She had an assistant with her (he was driving, citing the changing weather conditions as his reason for being). Everything went off without a hitch. Only one item didn’t make it: pasta. We have some pasta. I’ll do another order for Albertson’s via Instacart this week to see if that can be ordered.

Instacart recommended a five percent tip, which worked out to just under nine dollars. I upped it to fifteen. I figured Alicia P deserved it, and it was cheap at that. I acknowledge, yeah, we’re lucky. We have the financial wherewithal to do this, a Costco is in range, and people like Alicia P are willing to work for Instagram under these conditions. And, yes, part of my reason for pushing my wife to do an order on Friday night was that Instacart drivers were talking about striking on Monday, 3/30. The other reason was that stuff was at Costco, but how much longer would it be there?

So, we’re set again.

I slipped outside for a few minutes, taking out the recycle and getting the mail. We decided we’d pick up the mail every Sunday morning.

It was balmy and drizzly, a lovely day for a walk, except for the hidden killer that could be lurking in the air. Sadly, I returned to the house via the garage and followed sanitizing precautions.

Hope you’re all doing well out there in webland. Good luck, and stay well.

Cheers

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Measures

The coronavirus is creeping into our area (Ashland, southern Oregon). A case was confirmed in the county a few days ago. Friends forwarded information to us early Friday morning. Medical professionals, they’re sharing stories from the hospitals.

“…saw 6 cases of bilateral pneumonia in folks 60-80. All had to be
admitted…have NEVER seen 6 cases in one shift.
Absolutely no way to test them for Covid-19. All negative for regular flu.
One woman 60 yr. on Methotrexate. Very sick. (Asante ER)”

Testing kits aren’t available. We’re over sixty years old. My wife suffers RA. She decided to self-isolate and skipped her exercise class at the Family Y. With the chain as it is, that requires me to self-isolate with her.

We’re people who generally stay stocked up on supplies. We have a freezer chest to support our approach, and a pantry. A case of bottled water is kept on hand. We don’t use bottled water; this is for emergencies.

Portions of our philosophy can be ascribed to our parents’ attitudes, but we also went through typhoons and lived in earthquake-prone areas, and now live in a wildfire area. We want to always be prepared. Besides those factors, I’m a guy that always thinks that you should never run out of staples. You know you use it, you see your use rate, buy more before it’s gone, if you have the means and it’s available. Just common sense to me.

An inventory was conducted. Have thirty-six rolls of toilet paper on hand. There are two of us. Don’t need more, thanks. Several boxes of tissues, and cough drops. Enough coffee for about six weeks (yeah, we’re Costco shoppers).

We have personal hygiene products, and no need for more. Cleaning supplies are aplenty. Cheese. Tortillas. Guacamole. Romaine lettuce, onion, carrots, and celery. We also have frozen pizzas with cauliflower crusts on hand from Costco. Frozen blueberries and mangoes. So far, so good.

Lots of pasta (could use some sauce), rice, soup, wine and beer (a few bottles of each), black beans, lentils, bread (several loaves frozen as reserves), peanut butter (three extra large jars on hand), potatoes, jelly, oatmeal, flour, brown sugar, cane sugar.

I ended up buying more fresh fruits and veggies (like potatoes, sweet potatoes, broccoli, asparagus, bananas, pears, spinach, grapes), doughnuts (comfort food) (just a small pack), more frozen fruits for smoothies (my wife makes them for us several times a week), cat food, and eggs. (Seems like we can never have enough cat food on hand.)

Entertainment shouldn’t be an issue. We have the ‘net, broadcast and streaming TV, books, and jigsaw puzzles. We also bought painting supplies for a new project, and have yard work to do.

I can go for walks for exercise, we agreed, as long as I don’t contact others and clean up when I arrive back home.

The stores weren’t bad. I was worried as the parking lot was full. Cars were parked anywhere that was possible. As a man finished putting everything in his car, I made a deal with him; I’ll take his cart back for him, since I required one, and I’ll take his parking space. Yeah, wiped down his cart handles.

Inside the store (local place, Shop n’ Kart) everything was well-stocked. Not many shoppers. I did my thing without issue. All check-out islands were open. A cashier was immediately available. She was using disinfectant on everything.

She told me that I’d just missed the rush. When she’d come into work for the eight AM shift, it’d been a madhouse. My timing was golden.

Back home, we settled down to read the news and talk about new developments.

Here we go, life in the time of COVID-19. Be safe out there.

 

11

A Series of Weird, Short Dreams

I dreamed that dandelions were growing out of my cat’s head. I decided to pull them, because I thought, the roots must be growing into his brain.

I pulled the weeds. As they came out, his head broke apart like the top of a chicken potpie. Brains spilled out. Panicking, I tried pushing them all back in.

Before that —

I was marrying a robot. The robot resembled a cross between an Oscar and Marvel’s Iron Man. He’d been sent to kill me. I’d captured and converted him, easy to do because he was a foot tall and never moved, standing like the Oscar all the time. I don’t know how he was expected to kill me, but I was marrying him.

Before that —

It was cake again. A large white sheet cake was on a table. It looked gorgeous, and delicious. Writing was on the top. Leaning forward to read it, I misjudged space and distance and began falling into the cake. Wildly flailing, I managed not to hit the cake, but tilted the table. The cake began sliding away. I tried grabbing it, seizing a handful of a corner and tearing it away.

In a slow-motion sequence, I raised the cake that I’d torn away up to my face. Yellow inside, it smelled like lemon. I put some into my mouth to taste it. It didn’t taste lemon. I couldn’t decide what the taste was.

The cake was still sliding off the table. Lunging forward, I caught the cake, stabilized the table, and ‘saved’ the cake, except it was a mess.

Others came in. I wanted to run but I had cake all over me. Obviously, I’d done whatever had happened to the cake. As the rest came up (all strangers, dressed casually, but with what looked like flutes of champagne in their hands), I said, “There was an accident.”

Ignoring that, smiling and talking, they looked at the cake as though nothing was wrong. One woman said something to me. I held up the handful of cake and asked, “Is this lemon?”

Before that —

I was in the military, dressed in a crisp light blue shirt with dark blue pants, supervising a group of young NCOs. I was assigning them positions, roles, and titles. “You’re NCOIC of Back Office Reporting, BOC.” I laughed. “And you are Console Operations, COPs.” That brought more wild laughter from me. To the third, I said, “And you’re NCOIC of Training, which is, well, that’s just training.” I found that hilarious.

Before that —

My cat was sick. I was looking for his medicine. After I went through the house, I finally found it (it’s the last place that you look, innit?). Then I couldn’t find the cat. Putting the medicine down, I went through the house looking for him. Finding him at last, I couldn’t find the medicine. I said, “I just had it.”

That’s all there was.

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Floofscond

Floofscond (floofinition) – Behavior wherein an animal  departs secretly and hides itself, typically after taking something that it shouldn’t have.

In use: “The dog had to be watched whenever someone set food down, as Daisy was apt to filch a portion and floofscond.”

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The Cake Dream

Another anxiety dream, this one featuring cake.

Something had happened in the dream previous to this moment but its pieces are like sand in the wind. With the wind calming, I found myself in another place.

A younger version of me entered a hotel ballroom. Brightly lit chandeliers hung over the  gathering. Everyone, including were well-dressed, with most (including me) wearing a black tuxedo with black tie.

Everyone milled around, as if waiting for an event to start. Lost when I first entered, I slipped to one side to get out of the way and figure out what was going on. Multiple tables were set with tablecloths and centerpieces featuring burning candles. On either end were tables. Seeing something on those tables, I went to them.

The tables were full of elaborate cakes. Seeing them, I became ravenous. I wanted a piece of cake but there weren’t plates, knives, or forks. How was I supposed to get a piece of cake?

Feeling nervous, I decided that I was going to leave. As I began turning, a woman in a shimmering silver gown approached me and announced, “There you are.” I thought she might someone else and tried stepping out of her way, but it was clear that she meant me. Even as she changed course and addressed me, I backpedaled, almost banging into the table full of cakes. God, what if I knock them all over, I worried, almost seeing the mess that it would make.

With the woman coming to me, others were coming my way, too. The woman was talking but I couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. As she reached me, she took my arm in hers and asked, “What cake would you like?”

I said, “I don’t know, they all look good, but I don’t see any plates.” I was looking for plates, knives, and forks, and then, with surprise, saw that they were on the table. As I mused, how did I miss that, thinking they weren’t they before, the woman said, “It’s all for you. Take whatever cake you want.”

Distrustful of her (and leery of more people) (mostly men in tuxes crowding around me), I told her, “I think I need to go.” As I disengaged myself from the woman, a tall man stepped up and held out a plate of cake to me. “Just take the cake,” he said in a gentle voice.

I laughed because I thought he said, “This takes the cake,” but I was also confused because I didn’t know what he meant. Still holding the cake toward me, he said, “The cake is yours. Take the cake.”

The dream ended.

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Tuesday’s Bumper Sticker

I’m a kale fan. One of my favorite salads is kale with grilled chicken, olives, tangerine pieces, Kalamata olives, red onions, almond slices, and dried cranberries with a sprinkle of blue cheese. I love the clash of flavors.

Damn, now I’m hungry.

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The Football & Space Dream

Pleasurable dream. I came off as successful beyond what I expected (although others seemed to expect it) and was happy, respected, and admired. I was a hero. Isn’t that what we all want to be?

The first dream found me at a football game. I don’t know what level of playing, team names, or anything like that. A running back, I was on the sideline. It was early in the first quarter. My team was down by a touchdown. Okay, it’s early, that’s not bad, but what was demoralizing was that it didn’t look like we could do anything against their defense.

I watched the play from behind. A running draw, our big back was stuffed and lost yardage. But as I watched the play, I knew that it would be different if it me.

I told the coach. He and the others had already reached the same conclusion and sent me in. When I went in, I was doubtful. I was so much smaller. Anxiety swept me.

Then, the play was over. Back on the sidelines, I’d discovered that I’d scored on a fifty-plus yard run. What a great feeling of celebration. Then I found that it was late in the game; it was almost over. I’d scored three times. The other team hadn’t scored again. We were winning in a blow-out.

I read notes on that first scoring play, when I went in. Smaller, but fast, I was able to duck and spin past the initial rush. Then, according to a guard, “Seidel used him like a lawn mower, pushing me ahead of him down the field and mowing down anything in his way.”

Reading that felt great.

Now, it was off to work. I worked in a space operations center alongside engineers, admin people, radar trackers, etc. I was a high-level position. There was a crises. People were waiting for me to arrive. They believed I could resolve it.

I went right to work. Although my desk was at the front, by the status boards and maps, I worked the room from end to end and side to side, talking with everyone, taking notes, making and taking phone calls, and issuing decisions. The crises was resolved but we stayed busy. I consulted with the engineers over a few things. They were always eager to show me what they were doing.

Some were ending their shift and going for food. I was invited but declined. Others decided that a food run was in order. One scientist held up a script of paper. “Here’s my order,” he declared. “I thought that a food order was going to be taken, so I was ready.”

Taking his note, I read his order. He’d used a cryptic shorthand that made me laugh. I had to puzzle through it to make any sense of it.

A cake with white frosting was delivered. A piece was cut for me. I picked up a plate with the cake and prepared to eat. The dream ended.

Everybody should experience uplifting dreams like these.

 

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Floofissimo

Floofissimo (floofinition) – For an animal to move very softly.

In use: “She set down a plate of donuts on the table. The cat watched her return to the kitchen for coffee, then, floofissimo, trotted to the table, jumped up, seized a donut with her teeth, and left.”

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Daydream

Things that are dark in flavor appeal to me. I like dark meat, dark chocolate, dark red wine and port, and dark beers like port and stout. I try – and often fail – to keep an open path to my taste buds. That means sampling offerings that don’t appeal to me based on familiarity and comfort. But I’m such a creature of ruts and routines that varying my choices becomes a challenging exercise.

Daydream is part of that.

Daydream is a Noble Coffee dark blend. As dark as an Italian roast in appearance, it’s not as sharp and bitter as an Italian or a French roast. Its flavor is smooth and fresh to my taste buds, toying me with mild nuttiness.

I do try others at Noble. Each day, they offer a blended dark and a unique, single origin that’s a lighter roast. True to form, the light roasts are revealed as winy and bitter to me. Some, though, have a terrific grapefruit juiciness, a taste that my taste buds like to have in IPAs, red blends, and Pinot Noirs.

Ultimately, it’s a world of choices out there, a distant shout from those early days at work, sipping Maxwell House re-heated in the microwave.

Got my brew, time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

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