Postman

Many years ago, while sitting at the home of our Board Chairman, I noticed that above me on the wall a painting of the Van Gogh Postman. He did several of them (I’ve now seen four) but finding one above my head was amazing!

As I stared, I realized the fat paint parts were probably dry, but oil paint, as I had learned as a student, never really dries. So being bold (and having had a few drinks),  I asked if I could touch it. When asked why, I explained about the oil paint and that this would never be in private hands again as it was willed to the Detroit Institute of Art eventually and therefore, what chance would I ever have again to touch it?

I touched it and It did seem dry, even though it looked wet, and scientifically would probably always be wet.

Last Saturday I was at the Cleveland Museum of Art for a Van Gogh show and in front of me, behind glass, was an old friend, the postman! I smiled and walked over and said to the painting, “I’m back, and like I said the last time, I’ll never be able to touch you again!”

Strange Breakfast Arrivals

My friend is retired and sits around a lot and thinks of things to do. He takes a lot of baths I am told (I never go and see) and he reads the paper and looks at the stocks on line. He is constantly rebuilding his house so his wife will get a better price for it when he dies. He worries about popcorn ceilings and door mouldings and such, way too much.

He is a great gardener, and grows some stuff that he doesn’t like so I can get it. We encourage him to keep it going. I like Swiss Chard, and we gets tons!

One of his pet projects is muffin making. He is good at it and every now and then we receive mysterious bags of baked goods in our vestibule. We usually find them within the day and they don’t often have to sit out overnight.

Here are two bags, each with a few muffins, and they are the result of a man with way too much time on his hands. The bags, you will notice, are quite greasy, just like the good old days of donut purchases before the modern age. I have translated the writing, as seem below.

Breakfast Muffin with one change

Used with the addition of Montreal corn beef Deli on Eglington Ave in Mississauga

I got dispensation from the Rabbi.

Pear and Pecan

Do not know yet - have not made before

They are quite good, and the meat ones were fantastic but I better not tell him for fear we’ll get more. A leftover sandwich may not be everyone’s idea of a perfect larder! There is no refrigeration used anywhere, much like an Asian bakery. It’s magic!

Sliced Baked Potatoes

 

These baked potatoes are amazing. This has vertical slices made before baking, making the top cook to a crunchy, thick-cut potato chip consistency, with a creamy baked potato centre.

Preheat oven to 400°F

Using a sharp kitchen knife, carefully start making a series of vertical cuts width-wise through the potato, making sure not to cut all the way through - cuts should only be 3/4 of the way through the potato.
Place sliced potatoes on a baking sheet slices up, then drizzle top with oil, salt and pepper.
Bake for 50 minutes. Time may vary depending on size of potato and oven.

We had them with panko covered spicy tilapia, coleslaw and a vegetarian slider! It was great!

 

I proposed over the phone.

I proposed over the phone.

It didn’t seem weird at the time but in hind sight, I guess it is.

In today’s world where we have insane young people doing flash mob proposals and bringing in jumbotron images of “will you marry me” as well as convincing famous entertainers to propose for you from the stage, my phone call proposal made to the office seems quite tame.

First of all, it’s not like we hadn’t discussed it. As well, we had a plan, and I sort of jumped the gun. We were waiting for my youngest son to graduate high school that next year but it was New Years and I was feeling the romance of the New Year, 1987, and I got swept away. My wife (as she has been for the last 27 years) had to work and I was off and sitting home.

It just seemed like a good idea, and with no eye contact no one could be too embarrassed. And, if she said no (I never thought of that), no one had to see it. No video cameras, marching bands or jugglers to be equally embarrassed. There was no YouTube or Facebook to declare my stupidity to and no one would have been the wiser. I could even have denied it if she had refused, or I could have said I was drinking should I change my mind before she came home.

Now I hadn’t thought through any of this at the time, I just blindly jumped ahead as usual.

My wife responded positively but was thrown off by my impetuous behavior. I was over 40 and was not prone to romantic flights of fancy. I did suggest we get married in the Elvis Chapel Las Vegas, (I assumed there was one) but that was quickly ruled out. I tried for the glass elevator in Renaissance Center in downtown Detroit but even though I could have worked it out, we didn’t live in Wayne County and would not have had a proper marriage license to get married there.

In the end, being just a little bit crazy, we were married in Oakland County traffic court, with a wonderful presiding judge who emptied the courtroom except for our little  bit of family and we had a wedding! The court and judge set me back $10! It was a deal!

Looking back on my life, I like this one. It’s weirdly romantic, reasonably crazy and absolutely true!

Arthur...Don't Fall

The last time I was in physio they said, “Arthur, don’t fall!” This was good advice and a rule I try and live by. Since my fall last May down the stairs in the middle of the night, I have been very good. I never walk in the snow and ice any more due to way too many “accidents”. I am very careful in coming down any stairs, and choose to be slow anywhere I am able, just to be sure.

Last night I needed to remove our kitchen smoke detector, and disable it, as we were going to use our broiler and we know the consequences of such an act. We have never used the broiler in this stove in the two years we’ve owned it, and this was a good night to try it as it was way too cold for barbequing outside.

Rather than get out the portable steps we have for that purpose, I found the one Rubbermaid step and used it to take down the alarm. As we ascended to stairs late in the evening I realized I had forgotten to put it back, and fearing a middle of the night disaster, I got out the step again to put the alarm back.

My wife had gone up before me, and there was only Max our dog as a silent witness. I put the stair in place, put the battery back in the holder, and started to go up the stair.

I imagine that the stair must have been on two different surfaces, the tile floor and the wood floor simultaneously, as I rose up a stair leg sort of folded under itself and I came down, from thank God not much of a height. As I tumbled down it all seemed to be in slow motion and I was aware of what was happening. I thought out how I would land, and hit on my butt cheek, my knee and my ankle and not on my head! It hurt but I rolled, and ended up on the floor with my legs over the two small stairs to our lower level family room and did no damage to me, beyond my pride.

My wife upstairs said it sounded like a bomb hit, and she immediately assumed I was down with a stroke! When she came down I was laughing in pain, but laughing just the same and trying to figure out how and if I could get up.

The words of the Physio technician came back to me loudly and clearly, “Arthur, don’t fall!”

 

When left on my own to cook recently, I was able to strike out for cooking freedom! My wife was off to do something and left me a recipe from the Artist’s Palate Cookbook as well as a pile of ingredients, and told me to make the Sandro Chia Vegetarian Lasagne.

I was in heaven! I seldom get the opportunity to cook, and almost never left to my own devices. She freed me from the bonds of the recipe, and told me to loosely follow it (no meat could be added) but to enjoy myself and do a good job.

She left me a counter full of the needed ingredients, and I had my kitchen full of other things I could add. I imagine in the end the only additive I used was red wine and some spices, not included in the original recipe, and also included some in me as well (the wine not the spices). The tomatoes we used were a bit different than suggested, and I added an additional can of tomato paste.

The only part of this that got very interesting beyond it being fabulous, was it called for using a leek. I knew what a leek was and had eaten leeks, I realized I’d never cooked one or even saw one cooked. Do I use the green part? If so, how do I use it? I was in the middle of cooking, as I hadn’t carefully read the recipe first, when it said to add a leek to the vegetable mixture cooking on the stove. 

As a 21st century guy, I immediately sprang into action. I quickly got out my tablet and punched in “cooking leeks” and was able to watch the video on how to clean and cook leeks while I cooked! I was able to clean it and get rid of the hard green stuff and make a great lasagne.

The basic book recipe was (including a few additions):

¼ cup olive oil

1 medium onion chopped, 

2 cloves garlic, minced

2- 28 oz. cans crushed tomatoes

1 small can tomato paste

2 bouillon cubes (vegetarian or beef if you’re sneaky)

½ cup red wine

Salt and pepper as needed

1 large red or green pepper, sliced (I used orange, as that was what we had)

 1 leek, halved and sliced

1 large carrot grated

1 package (2 cups) sliced mushrooms

1 small zucchini, sliced

1 box no boil lasagne sheets

1 lb. grated mozzarella cheese

¾ cup grated Parmesan cheese

1 cup basil leaves (added at the end, and I forgot them completely)

1 TBS oregano

½ TBS thyme

½ ts dried hot pepper

Preheat oven to 350. In a large saucepan over medium heat sauté the onions, and garlic in olive oil until soft. Add wine, tomatoes, ½ the spices and bouillon cubes. Simmer for about 30 minutes. Stir in basil and salt and pepper. I used a hand blender at this point to amalgamate the sauce a bit, leaving it less chunky.

In a large skillet, use remaining olive oil on medium heat and cook pepper and leeks until soft, about 6 minutes. Add mushrooms, zucchini and carrot and cook until soft, about another 5 minutes. Season with the remaining spices plus salt and pepper.

Lightly oil a 9”x13” baking pan. Spread ½ cup of the sauce on the bottom and lay 4 lasagne sheets over it. Sprinkle 1/3 of the vegetable mixture, followed by about a cup of sauce. Top with ¼ cup of the mozzarella and a TBS of the Parmesan. Repeat, ending the top layer with remaining sauce and cheese.

Lightly cover with foil and bake for 40 minutes.

This was wonderful, and even better the second day!

A Reprint from October 8, 2009 One of the Best Christmas Stories I Have

In the mid-50's, my friend Ted worked at the mall, and had access to the Santa Suit right after the mall closed on Christmas Eve. It was sweaty and stale, but he could get it and return it a day or two later to the rightful owner. He was so excited!

I would drive his car as it was a bit difficult for him to drive with pillows stuffed in his suit, and besides, he didn’t want to go out alone.

We would go to the gas station near the mall, a favorite place for us, and the owner would get us to go to his house to surprise his kids. We had to be at a Christmas Eve party about 11:00p.m. to scare the kids there, but we were free from about 6:00p.m., when the mall closed on Christmas Eve, until then.

Our desire was to get free booze and make kids happy (sort of).

We started out at the gas station owner’s house, and would drink with the guys in the basement while the ladies cooked and fussed upstairs. This was the 50’s, and this was a blue collar neighborhood, and we were two teen aged Jewish boys out being Santa and his helper!

When we left the house, the fun began. We would walk slowly, or drive slowly, if no one was out to see us, until someone invited us in. This was a kinder, gentler time and no one suspected that we were criminals, or even suspected two Jewish boys with ulterior motives, it was Christmas, and we had Santa!

From house to house we went and drank and jollied all the way! (We may have jingled too!)

By 11:00, we would make our way to our friend’s house, quite lit up, and woke the kids (her brother and sister) and had a great time! Everyone was drinking and we were happy as clams! The kids were generally scared by being woken up by the drunken Santa with a cheesy Irish accent, wishing them the happiest of holidays!

Sometimes I’d have to pull over, so Santa could get out of the car and hurl.

I miss those happy times!