Everyone, meet Ugggglay

Thanks to a persuasive veggie-booth proprietor at the Portland Farmers' Market, we've had a recent encounter with experimental munchies of the homely sort.

Behold, a repulsive root.

A tortuous tuber.

A gnarled growth.

Presenting for your consideration:

Celeriac, also known as celery root.

Celery root ~ Portland, October 2009, by Katie

I know.

It took my retinas a little time to get over the initial shock, too. Let's just cut to the chase and call it the fugliest vegetable out there.

Once you get past the impulse to run, however, this dimpled denizen of the dirt has a surprise up its sleeve:

It is delicious.

This little guy cleans up pretty well. Diced up, skinned, and sauteed in a little olive oil, dashed about with kosher salt and cracked pepper, and topped with an egg over easy, it transported us to breakfast heaven.

The flavor: firm, smooth, and starchy. Potato-like, with a tiny whiff of celery flavor. {And all without having to saute it in "aromatics", as my kitchen ninja teacher discussed.}

Call it home fries with a twist. Or hash browns in a new suit.

Whatever you call it, though, I recommend that you bypass the initial cringing at this ugly stepchild of the vegetable world and go find yourself some. Or just come over and consume some Ugly with us.

Thank you

There are some days I don't like my job. I wonder why I traded having 4 months of vacation a year for working 80 hours a week and getting three weeks of vacation. It has to be worth it. RIGHT?

This past weekend during hour number eleven on a Saturday I had the pleasure to tell someone he was going to die from cancer. Now there are those who might think I am very morbid for the previous statement. Although you are right let me explain.

This man survived Iwo Jima. He was wounded and left for dead amid all the death and destruction. He underwent surgery in a grass hut that saved his life.

When I thanked him for his service he said, "It was an honor."

When I called him a hero the answer was "BULL$*&%!, the heroes died over there."

"I had a good life and thank you for seeing me" were his words when I told him he had lung cancer. Seriously, who says thank you to the person that tells them they are going to die.


Thank you for serving this country and helping me be free.
Thank you for being a hero, you are one if there ever was.
Thank you for showing me how to be grateful for all that I have, it was an honor to have met.

In which I am schooled by a fuzzball

Our little household has had some adjustments to make over the last few months. One change that has really brought me up short has been the transition from a three-bedroom house {oh! the closets...the storage...the kitchen...the yard...} to a two-bedroom apartment.

A quick disclaimer: I am glad for a place to call my pad, a spot to stow our stuff, a homey hacienda, BUT. Color me wistful for the home I left in the Rockies.

I'm not the only one wrestling with change. La Kitty has had a rude awakening from the luxury of her own personal deck and fenced-in backyard. All the scents and tactile experiences of her protected personal slice of the outdoors have been rudely pulled from beneath her little paws. She wants to go outside sooooo badly, she rushes the door when I come home.

In an effort to be a good pet owner and make amends to the little apartment-bound princess, I attempted to take her for a walk last week. You know, a little stroll through the neighborhood so I can keep my watchful eye on her declawed self and make sure she stays safe. I sought out an idyllic opportunity to show my fur-child her surroundings at the end of a carefully controlled harness. {Besides, her posterior profile has been growing as of late.} Easy peasy, right? Or so I thought. The instant that harness clipped into place, Sal's righteous indignation boiled over and the walk turned into a sit.

Observe...me being studiosly ignored. La Kitty's finest cold shoulder. Crabby Cat ears directed at yours truly.

So, I guess a drive around town with the little one is out of the question.

Red anything good lately?

I took myself for a little field trip through downtown Portland last week. The seasons are in transition here; there is a snap in the air. I couldn't resist catching my favorite color in just the right light...happy autumn.

Leaves ~ Portland, OR October 2009, by Katie

Portland Art Museum Chinese exhibit ~ October 2009, by Katie

A Little Story

On a recent grocery acquisition mission, I found myself in an unusual predicament: I was at a loss for words.

I was minding my own doggone business. Waiting to pay my bill and vamoose. Captive to the blip-blip-blip across the conveyer belt. And then the checker had the nerve to give me a simpering grin and ask, "Awww, do you have a little one at home?"

I do not.

I looked up sharply, instantly wondering what had triggered such a query. Maybe I looked plump in a post-partumly way?! My eyes narrowed as I scanned my ensemble for wayward spills. Did I look haggard and sleep-deprived as only a wrangler of young 'uns can? When I realized the man was referring to the contents of my cart, I did a rapid inventory and catalogued some red flags amidst all the fresh produce:

Milk. Multiple gallons of it. {I married a dairy farmer's son, and you can't take the farm out of the boy.}

Okay...could be considered a "little one" beverage.

But it's not. It's for Husby and me. We douse our cereal. We sip at mealtimes. And we like it as an accompaniment to my baking experiments.

High quality entertainment. I'm a hard-working girl, and I value the opportunity to relax and surround myself with the artistic nuances of claymation filmmaking.

Might be something you'd take home to a "little one" with a well-defined sense of cinematic greatness.

But in this case, I simply adore Wallace and Gromit. Clever stuff, that. Sophisticated, multifaceted, charming humor.

Vitamins. I'm far more likely to take in the recommended nutritional supplements if they're cloaked in something that tastes good. Like gummy fish.

Any mom worth her salt would be willing to pass off these healthy-for-you vitamin supplements as an afternoon treat for a "little one".

But they are for me. Yes, as a matter of fact I do need a little coercing to take my vitamins.

So, back to the check-out line and the nosy guy...

I hemmed.

I hawed.

And then I just said the only thing I could say to that very personal question. Little one at home, eh?

"Yep, I sure do."