Popeye knew a good thing when he ate it
Finally. At long last there is cold, there is bitter wind, there is snow. Not a lot of snow, but slight accumulation. It’s blowing across the hills in white whirlwinds. The smoke curling from the chimney pipe on the outdoor wood-burner was a welcome sight. Animals were eager for their breakfast (as were my children).
They wanted cereal or Pop-Tarts or frozen waffles. They wanted something boxed, packaged and full of sugar and sodium and a bunch of things I can’t pronounce. I could tell.
They eyed the fresh eggs with disdain. They turned up their noses at whole-wheat toast with homemade strawberry jam. They’re craving some honest-to-goodness junk food.
So guess what I fed them for lunch?
I called it Salmon Spinach Salad. I intended to make salmon patties but for some unknown reason — I attribute it to impending Alzheimer’s — I forgot to put an egg in the mixture. The patties crumbled in my pan. (And P.S. on the Alzheimer’s remark. I’m not mocking the disease, truly. I’ve seen it up close and personal. Instead of thinking it won’t happen to me, I do my best to chronicle things here, so if I do get it I can read what I forget.)
But I digress.
The salmon patties went kaput and I ended up with salmon crumbles. No worries. I chopped up a bunch of baby spinach leaves and tossed them in a bowl. Sprinkled on some grated Parmesan cheese. Topped it with my crumbled salmon. Added a dollop of mayonnaise mixed with pepper ranch salad dressing. Then I served it to my kids, ages 11, 9 and 5.
They squealed. Not with horror — but in pure, unadulterated, salivating joy. They LOVE spinach. And to prove their point, all three presented me with clean bowls. And asked for more. To be perfectly honest, I kind of stood there and stared at them in weirded-out wonder. Then I thanked the Lord for the blessing of children who willingly eat what’s good for them. Then, because I was so happy they had just stocked up on omega-3s and folic acid and vitamins, I determined to feed them dessert … except the cupboards are bare. No junk food, remember? So I smeared mango butter on a half a slice of bread, folded it in two and called it a cookie. They loved that, too. (That mango butter’s been in the fridge since my one and only trip to Trader Joe’s.)
Don’t worry, supper won’t be as … original. First of all, Farmguy would have a fit. So there’s a stew made from leftover pot roast, veggies, red wine and beef broth simmering on the stove. I’m thinking some cornbread, too. And just as soon as I unchain myself from the computer, I’ve promised to make some oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for my health-food freaks.
There’s also the matter of groceries. And here’s the real wonder … the thing that really floats my boat — especially during winter when I like to play hermit.
Groceries can be shopped for and purchased online.
There’s a grocery store a couple of blocks from Farmguy’s office. I shop their online store, he drives up and they load the groceries in his car. He doesn’t even have to get out! And lest you think it’s costly, I’ll tell you there’s a $7.95 charge. It’d cost me that much to make an extra trip to the store and back.
And here’s another bit o’ wonder: I discovered this morning that the great big bad store we all love to hate now offers free shipping if your total order is over $45. So I shopped online for peanut butter, dish soap, shampoo, conditioner, laundry detergent and paper products. They’ll arrive on my porch in a big cardboard box by next Wednesday.
I won’t have to bundle my children in winter attire. I won’t have to exchange fuzzy socks and pajama pants for going to town attire. I won’t ever have to leave the house again!
At least not for groceries.