Something about the New Moon can turn even the not-so-clean gal into a neatfreak, and this Virgo is no exception. I’d like to say I “tucked my crockpot away until autumn,” but the fact is I forgot it existed until I was sorting through a mess of pots ‘n pans when cleaning the cabinets last night. And I never used it last fall. Actually, I kinda forgot I had one.
Okay, to my friends in warmer climates than Maine, it sounds wimpy when I say 95 degrees outside makes anything to eat that’s not cold look gross, at least if you’re cooking at home. And no matter how tasty your fancy feast, might be, you just don’t want to cave the house in with home cooking comforting sweet-stank. Tonight, I wanted the pasta ‘n red thing to cure my PMS, but didn’t want the house to turn all sauna-like.
And then, yes! I rediscovered the Crockpot. It ain’t just for Gilmore Girls. Nor just for “dump-cake,” a 3-years-ago phenomenon I’m still trying to figure out.
A couple cans of tomatoes, fresh basil, crushed garlic, carmelized onions, farmer’s market yellow bell pepper, whatever-the-eff I do with herbs, and some leftover wine into the pot. Fired ‘er up, took off for a foresty hike in “Hobbitland” –I’ll post pics at some point– and came home to a house that smelled like a cold-weather dinner, but no sweat.
So to speak.
This is starting to sound like one of those cooking blogs, but it’s not. Let’s talk about music and light.
If you’re my age (somewhere between 40 and 50), you know about multi-album sets of relaxing, romantic music. The cover photo was always an uber-sensual 1970s couple, enjoying a nice picnic, sporting what everyone always wore on private picnics back in the day. Like, a white Gunny-Sax dress for the girl, a leisure suit with jacket removed for the gent.The 5-set record pile was meant to be stacked onto an automated flip stereo (very high tech for the times), where the albums would magically drop themselves down, just at the right Riunite-On-Ice moment.
I’ve dug all over the internet for some examples, but found nothing. This romantic photo of 70s summer luvin’ could kind of work, but isn’t quite the droid I was looking for.
My boyfriend is a musician, which means that 80% of the time, I cook for one, leave leftovers for two. He eats twice as much as me, and at midnight his cravings apparently kick in, because there’s nothing left in the morning.
When you make food THIS good, it’s a bummer to eat it alone. And to my fellow musicians’ girlfriends? You make a lot of good food, and eat by yourselves more than you’d like to admit. There’s the phone-binging, the writing, the yoga, the painting, the meditation, and Netflix shame before bed. But you probably had dinner by yourself, because on Sunday night hosting an evening get-together isn’t a likely thing. Everyone else is going to work tomorrow. When your 10 years into a relationship-something with a musician, there are just so many gigs that you want to go to, and Sunday night is just not something you can do.
Tonight, I decided to have the sensual Vinyl Five experience, doubled with a burning candle via Youtube. So, like, you layer up your Youtube crap.
The food was good, but somehow the stack of fake candlelight and Bossa Nova 70s sensuality tune made it kind of fabulous.
So, in addition to food porn, here’s a link to what you, too can be enjoying when you rediscover your crockpot in the summer heat and eat some tasty winter food. Light a candle or do like I did and YouTube stacking.You’ll feel like you’re having a quiet evening in a cabin with Gordon Lightfoot.
And isn’t that what every girl wants? Gord doesn’t have that many Sunday night gigs, these days.
* This is an old entry I dashed off sometime in July, so it’s out of date. Never posted because I thought it was weird, scattered, and a little sad. I was totally right!