This was a marathon social weekend for the Carlsons. Friday night I had to stop at the store on the way home to grab some chicken, celantro, and Rotel, then come home, put the chicken pieces in salted water to cook while making a big batch of enchilada sauce--a big pot of water with oregano, granulated garlic, and salt is infused with a beautiful light brown rue of vegetable oil and flour, with a massive amount of delicious red brick colored New Mexico chili powder stirred in quickly so as not to burn. There's also this special ingredient in the water mixture--1/2 t. peanut butter. Creamy, not chunky. I know you're saying "Huh, peanut butter!! What the hell is that all about?" Have you ever eaten red chili sauce and it had a rather bitter taste to it? Not very enjoyable to say the least, and especially if you LOVE Mexican food the way I do. Well, peanut oil keeps the chili from turning bitter if you scorch it just a bit when cooking it in the rue. You can use peanut oil to do the rue, then no peanut butter is needed, but just a tad of peanut butter will keep that nasty bitter taste away. And that can make all the difference in the world. Thank you Mr. Gutierrez for that great tip, and all the knowledge and recipes for the fantastic Mexican food I learned to cook in my ten year tenure at Alfredo's! It keeps the men in my life, from 70 to 10, very happy, along with lots of friends and family members.
After stirring any and all lumps out with a wire whisk, you boil until the consistency of thick cream. I'll have to post the recipe later, as I still do a handful of this and dash of that. So until I get it down to measurements...well, you get the idea. Anyway, after this delicious rich sauce was cooked to perfection, the burner was turned off while a shower ensued. After all, no one wants to smell like garlic, chili powder and oil when they're going out.

So an hour later saw us at the Sacred Bean for open mic night, and Roy performed for the 2nd time. The audience and the musicians were different this week. Also the set up. Now there were no comfortable chairs, carpet had been removed for a wooden floor set up as a "stage" with too much large sound equipment pumping out too much volume for such an intimate setting. Also huge theatre lights were hooked up to the ceiling aimed at the stage like laser blasters. Not just one of two for ambience, but 8, I'm telling you, eight huge frigging lights. Jeez, so much for the nice coffee shop sharing peoples' talents with each other and having a good time. Now it's friggin' American Idol.
And instead of nice amateur local musicians, some of whom were trying to get their name out there and possibly have a following, and maybe cut a CD or two to sell to fans, now the pros were coming in to hawk their gigs. Too loud, too annoying, taking over something that was good and innocent and comforting and like family. So while Roy did perform, it was only 2 songs, and he didn't have the spirit of past performances--having fun and entertaining friends. But Jack came by and hung out, and then about 9:15pm when we were leaving, Steve and Bev showed up with the friends with whom they'd gone out to dinner. They were sorry to be late, Genovesse's was crowded and took awhile to serve, and who wants to gobble down stupendous Italian food? No problem. We all stood around outside for about 45 minutes and talked and laughed and visited and had a good time. But then we had to go home, get some rest, and recharge for the next day's activities.
Next morning I was up at 5:30am to finish making those enchiladas. First, had to finish making the chicken filling. Sometimes when you get chicken tacos or enchiladas, you just get plain lifeless dead shredded chicken meat inside. Well, that tastes like crap and is just laziness as far as I'm concerned. I like my chicken with flavor. So to that end, you pull the chicken meat off the bones and shred it in medium size shred into a pot. To the pot add a diced onion, diced celery, celantro, oregano, granulated garlic, salt, pepper, cumin, and a can of diced tomatoes. I prefer the fire roasted tomatoes myself...extra flavor. Then salt and pepper, a diced dill pickle (yes, you heard me, all chicken enchiladas need a dash of pickle in them) and chicken broth saved from cooking the chicken, to cover all. Stir together to mix, then bring to a boil. Simmer about 15 minutes then turn off the flame. While the chicken is cooling, peel four medium yellow onions, and do a small dice, putting the diced onions into a bowl. At this point, put the enchilada sauce on to heat, and thin a bit if necessary. Also put on a fry pan with about 1-2" of vege oil in it and bring it to a medium high. And put shredded colby, jack, or colby-jack cheese into a large bowl. Then I got out the disposable aluminum 13x9 cake pans to put the enchiladas into for heating in the oven.
Sure wish my fingers still tolerated the heat like they did at the restaurant. Those tortillas get so damn hot when you're trying to roll them! So I proceeded to dip 56 corn tortillas into hot oil to cook, then into enchilada sauce to soften and flavor, and then roll up chicken and shredded cheese in 26 of them, and cheese and onions in the rest, sprinkle cheese over the top of each, then ladel enchilada sauce over all and cover to take with us to Camp Verde.
Next is the salsa. Now I used to make it completely from scratch, chopping up fresh tomatoes, charring fresh anaheim chilis to peel, seed and chop, etc. Well, using Rotel diced tomatoes with chilis sure is easier, and everyone loves it, so why go through all that hassle. So I pour out two cans of Rotel into a big bowl with a snap on top, pour in a can of fire roasted diced tomatoes, jazz it up with diced fresh yellow onions, freshly chopped celantro, a little oregano and cumin, and a small can or two of diced green chilis, add a little salt and pepper and granulated garlic to taste, and voila...killer salsa! I love the kudos and looks of ecstacy as everyone dips those chips in for huge scoops of fantastic salsa into their mouths.
So again, off to the showers to get the Mexican restaurant smell off, then we head over the mountain to the next valley...the Verde Valley...and Camp Verde. Today is my son Jason's 39th birthday. Shit...where have the years gone!? I can't believe it was 39 years ago I was laying in that shit hole Globe-Miami Inspiration Hospital, no epidural, no anesthesia, trying to push a 16.5cm head out of my privates. As Bill Cosby said, if you want this experience, just try pulling your lower lip up over your face over the top of your head...that's about how it feels. But it sure was worth it. The only good thing that came out of the first marriage, but boy it sure was a very very good thing.
Plus, he and the family are leaving for Pittsburgh tomorrow morning. After a lay off, he was offered a position with Dick's Sporting Goods, and it was a great job and the people and company are super. So he took it. It wasn't an easy decision, leaving friends and family to move across the U.S. when your wife is rather adverse to leaving AZ since she hadn't been

out of Camp Verde much less out of AZ for most of her life. Still only having been to CA and Mexico, this move was not pleasing her much, and being that far from her Mom, that wasn't setting very well either. Add to that many friends right in their neighborhood, along with a very close and wonderful friend whom has been fighting cancer for several years, and you can see how it would be a very difficult transition. But we have all given them the "new adventure" "new friends, new places" talk and she is now going along with the program, with the stipulation that if she really hates it, after a year he will seek employment back in AZ. Plus, she's getting kinda jazzed about going to NYC, up into New England for the Fall Foliage, and she's always good to go with snow mobiling, ATV riding, etc. She did a bang up job cleaning, patching, and painting everything in the houes before Jason came back to load them and the rest of the things the movers didn't take into a UHaul, leaving him with just a couple dump runs and loading up to do. She rocks!! Well, it's not like I want them so far away, but I'm very proud of him doing what needs to be done to support his family and keep their lives going forward instead of dropping into a cesspool like so many have in these times of unemployment and recession.
Anyway, I digress. So over the hill we go with food, school supplies, birthday presents, cards and things to take on the trip for the boys (disposable cameras, books, magazines, candy, and yoyos!), a gift for Jenn for moving stress relief--chocolate and bath items, along with ice and lime aid for the margaritas! It was a good party. Lots of talk, laughter, margaritas (made not only with tequila, triple sec, lime aid and ice, but a good dose of Dos Equis beer also...different but very good), and meeting new people, everyone was very congenial, and I kept the tears out of it until the very last minute good byes.
During the course of the day, Jason and Roy and I had time to be alone a bit and I was chastised big time by the son. He basically said I was being a chicken shit. I, the one nicknamed Crazy Jane and for good reason in my younger days, was whimping out in my later years and making excuses not to follow my heart. Roy and I have been discussing first a vacation to Uruguay, and then in the last couple months, just going there for a year. An adventure. This entails my quitting my job. A job that affords us savings, 403b, medical/dental/vision/disability insurance, paid time off in vacation/sick leave/personal leave, etc., Virginia State Employee retirement benefits come age 65, and bi-monthly pay checks. This is a big deal in this economy, and a big jump off a cliff to just throw out the door. However, this job also comes along with a new site director 3 years ago that is going to kill me. She is so utterly unqualified, unprepared, and worthless for this job, it makes both myself and the other assistant director, nuts on a daily basis. She is so clueless, even after three years, that it's quite unbelieveable the stupid shit things she continues to do. She is so busy memorizing the catalog, that she doesn't get out and do the marketing, relationship building and glad handing that must be done and is part of the job in keeping the site's numbers growing. She is the world's biggest procrastinator, thus making emergencies on everyone else's part due to her lack of taking care of business, a daily occurrence. I truly need one of those "lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part" signs over my desk...but she wouldn't get it or think it was about students and not her. She has pawned off her work on me for three years, and now when the Regional Director has told her she needs to be doing the financial paperwork, she calls me into her office every month to watch over her as she does it so she doesn't make any errors. Instead of just looking at the previous month's forms as to how to fill them out (like I had to do), she has me take time out of what I'm doing to literally stand over her and watch her fill out the forms. I love my job, and even when the students drive me crazy I still like my students, but this one I just want to put my hands around her neck and squeeze until the bones pop most days. Or throw a glass of iced water in her face. Or....okay, gotta get off this track. Roy has already locked up all the guns just in case. I guess postal workers aren't the only ones that go nuts over bureaucratic bullshit.
Anyway, this is why my husband has begged me to quit the job. And I have come to the reality that it must be done, I'm just scared to death to let it go. Well, so there comes the "chicken shit" comment from Jason. So, basically he said, quit the job and go after your dream now, as Roy isn't getting any younger and has health problems, and you're no spring chicken yourself Mom, and you need to do this Uruguay thing. Go live your dreams, as you won't know if it's good or bad until you do it. And it's better to say, "Shit, this was a total blow" rather than wondering the rest of your life what could have been. The old addage that when old people are asked what they regret in their lives, the regretable thingsare the ones they didn't do, not the things they did that didn't turn out 100%, comes to mind here. And Jason was addamant that we just needed to do it. Screw anyone who questioned our sanity; I was free white and well over 21 and it just wasn't anyone's business. We were specifically talking about sister Barbara, as I know she's going to go ballistic on me for this one. Irresponsible; baby boomer; class of 69; weird selfish behavior; all of these will be part of the lecture. Oh well, no more c.s. behavior....we ARE going to do this.
So, kisses an

d hugs and photos, and we're on our way home. However, as we leave, oldest grandson Zachary, whom Nana seems to have a bit of an affinity with, goes out the back door of the house and around the corner to meet us on our way out. He opens the back door, and says "Hey, plenty of room for me back here.You can just take me home with you." That did it. Nana bursts into tears. If he only knew how much I adored him and wish to God I could do just that. He is a big piece of my heart and I adore this boy. If I thought I could get away with it, or if I thought his parents would even consider it, I'd take him home with us in a heart beat. But knowing I needed to do and say the right thing for his sake at this point, I tell him while there's nothing more I'd like to do, his Dad would know exactly where he was and hunt me down and kick my butt if I took his eldest son and tried to steal away with him . I told him he was to be a good boy and make me proud; that he had a huge adventure ahead of him learning about a whole new part of the U.S., making new friends, going to places Nana had never been. That he needed to take photos, and call me on Skype and keep me informed of all his new experiences, and I'd be sure to call him too. And if we couldn't get back for Christmas, then I would send him a plane ticket to come visit over the winter break. So, more kisses and hugs, and we were off, with more tears as we went back over the mountain. HOwever, between the tears, were good talks on plans to go make OUR adventure come true. I have a wonderful fantastic hubby who is always in my corner, and it's not fair to not give him his dream adventure, so it's going to happen.
Sunday came with less pain in my heart, and more things to do. However, this is where it becomes clear as a shot of silver tequila that eggplants are against me. It actually started yesterday, when I put an eggplant--large, smooth skinned and dark aubergine--into the gas grill. I was making
baba ganoush for a party at George's house Sunday evening, and one of the recipes said that grilling them actuallly gave it a nice smokey flavor. So, to that end, into the grill it went. Well, then all the salsa making, enchilada rolling, showering, etc. took place. The next thing I knew, I was miles down the road heading for I-17 and realized I'd left the damn grill on and the eggplant inside. Calling my sweet niece Mindy, I asked her if she'd go over and turn off the grill. Just forget about the eggplant...it was a chunk of carbon by now, probably looking like a large charcoal briquet. My concern was not setting the forest on fire. Sweet girl said she'd go right over.
So while watching CBS Sunday Morning, I decide if I put the other 2 eggplants on the grill, then I'd probably forget about them also, so what the f..k, I'd put them in the oven and forego the smokey flavor. Actually, there would be some, because as miracles do happen the eggplant I'd thought was charcoal actually was perfect so it was saved.

Well, about 52 minutes later, 8 minutes from the timer going off on the eggplants, Roy and I were having a conversation about Uruguay when there was a huge explosive BOOM! It shook the entire RV, and left us starring at each other and asking "What the hell was that??" I stood up and immediately the disaster was seen. Eggplant was hanging off the edges of the oven door. There were green and dark brown splotches all over the floor, up the steps into the bedroom, across the bathroom floor in front of the water closet, and hanging on the propane "sniffer" under the bottom step. I opened the oven door, and was aghast. There laid a portion of eggplant top with shards attached and chunks of fucking eggplant everywhere inside my clean oven. Dripping off the rack, stuck in the crevies and holes, everywhere!

This Middle Eastern vegetable was a terrorist! It committed Jihad in my clean oven, tried to blow off the frikkin' oven door and kill us with it's noxious smell. It was an IED...Incendiary Eggplant Device. A random act of violence from the Middle East. Shit, what a mess.
Roy goes to breakfast on Sunday mornings with some friends of his. I affectionately call the group the BBC--Boys' Breakfast Club. Well, he saw his opening, and off he escaped with the boys. Speaking of Chicken Sit! I turned off the oven, removed the one whole eggplant for preservation and use in the
baba ganoush, and removed the oven rack and put it outside on the patio. I then proceeded to clean up the outside of the oven, the floors, the walls, the steps, etc. In the middle of this disgusting endeavor, I knocked 44 oz. of Italian soda over the back of the kitchen counter on to the living room floor/carpet. During a plethora of disgusitng cussing--"shit, piss, damn, hell, what the f..k is going on" kind of cussing--I grabbed towels from the cupboard and soaked up that mess and threw all the ice cubes into the sink while throwing the now empty glass into the sink with the ice. I'm not talking euphemisms here...I was literally throwing things and cussing at this point. It wasn't pretty, nor very lady like, but hey, that's not where I was at that point!
When Roy came home, the entire place was clean. Floors had been swept and mopped; carpets had been wiped up and vacuumed; things had been put away, all dishes washed, counters cleared and shiny. He said "Oh look you've cleaned everything up." with this sympathetic look on his face, feeling sorry for my shitty morning and the eggplant explosion. However, at that point, I pulled open the oven door and told him "Not this...just the rest of the mess. I refuse to clean this up. I am NOT kneeling on my knees with my head stuffed into this little tiny oven for hours, feeling like Hansel & Gretel with the witch turning on the gas, scraping this shit eggplant off of every surface and nook and cranny. I'm NOT doing it. I will call Merry Maids and pay to have it cleaned before I do it. I never want to see another f..king eggplant in my life!!!!" That night in bed, prior to drifting off to sleep, he said "If I was a loving and wonderful husband, I'd probably clean up the stove for you, huh?" I affirmed his question, but told him if he didn't it didn't matter, as I was NOT doing it and I would just call Merry Maids to do the scum work.
The
baba ganoush was made. And then I went on to make the hummus--even though the oven remained the scene of terrorism and mishap. I brought out my mini food chopper, dumped in 1/2 can of garbanzo beans with a bit of olive oil and the juice from the beans and proceeded to hold down the button to grind up the beans. Low and behold, this tiny little chopper which I had purchased after selling a perfectly fantastic Cuisinart food processor when we moved from our beautiful home into our tin can, couldn't even puree a damn cooked bean! This was the last straw. Besides finding the house clean, and hearing my rampage about not cleaning the f..ked up oven, hubby had to hear that a shopping trip for a new food processor was about to commence. Big Lots, Tuesday Morning, Goodwill, and finally WalMart were canvassed for a new full sized machine. Home it came, and in went garbanzos, garlic, lemon juice,
tahini, and cayenne...and puree away! It came out beautifully and delicioius. A sprinkle of paprika and fresh chopped parsley, and snap on the lid, chop the pita bread into wedges, pack all and the chips up and away we go!
So, although the
Baba was a bit salty (I'd measured all the ingredients for 3 eggplant into the bowl and alas the evil terrorist eggplant was not around after its suicide therefore making the recipe's salt too much), everyone enjoyed it and the
hummus. We had a wonderful time; George's house was beautiful; the guests were all fun and mellow; and we listened to a new artist we'd never heard...Zucchero. From Italy, a superb musician, singer and show man, the DVD of his show at Royal Albert Hall in England, was amass with celebrities known and unknown to us, and lead Roy to purchase a new CD when we got home.
So, other than IEDs, terrorist Middle Eastern vegetables, a broken heart, and a horrible temper tantrum and clean up, it was a good weekend. Now, back to work for another week of bullshit and tongue biting. But this time I know I will NOT continue to be a chicken shit for long...a few months or weeks, and I'll be printing, signing and turning in one of the many letters of resignation I've written in the last 3 years. Viva Uruguay! F..k Eggplant!!
BARBARA CARLSON' HUMMUS
(See post "Shuffling Off to Buffalo...NY That Is" 7/30/09 for this recipe)BABA GANOUSHIngredients
1 large eggplant
1/4 cup tahini, plus more as needed
3 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice, plus more as needed
1 pinch ground cumin
salt, to taste
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1/4 cup brine-cured black olives, such as kalamata
Directions
1. Prepare a medium-hot fire in a charcoal grill.
2. Preheat an oven to 375°F.
Prick the eggplant with a fork in several places and place on the grill rack 4 to 5 inches from the fire.
3. Grill, turning frequently, until the skin blackens and blisters and the flesh just begins to feel soft, 10 to 15 minutes.
4. Transfer the eggplant to a baking sheet and bake until very soft, 15 to 20 minutes.
5. Remove from the oven, let cool slightly, and peel off and discard the skin.
6. Place the eggplant flesh in a bowl.
7. Using a fork, mash the eggplant to a paste.
8. Add the 1/4 cup tahini, the garlic, the 1/4 cup lemon juice and the cumin and mix well.
9. Season with salt, then taste and add more tahini and/or lemon juice, if needed.
10. Transfer the mixture to a serving bowl and spread with the back of a spoon to form a shallow well.
11. Drizzle the olive oil over the top and sprinkle with the parsley.
12. Place the olives around the sides.
13. Serve at room temperature.