I Feel Like I Invented the Freezer

Once again, I am drawing from Mike’s vast well of culinary expertise. I am making pizza dough and freezing it. It’s too cold to do anything else. I’m letting the dough rise partially, and then I’ll freeze it, and that will make it suitable for storage in vacuum bags. It’s hard to vacuum-seal soft food, but freezing will firm it up.

I also plan to break my sauce into two-ounce portions and freeze it. Each one is enough for a 12″ pizza. I won’t put any water or oil in it. Just the sauce base. Then I can staple the sauce bags to the dough bags, and I’ll have frozen pizza, ready to rock!

I may also break the cheese into 8-ounce portions. I’ll oil it before I freeze it. I made pizza with oiled cheese yesterday, and I’m sold on the idea.

This should be fantastic. Frozen dough is better than fresh, and oiled Gordon Food Service cheese is very good. And I won’t have to buy a gallon can of sauce every time I want a small pizza for lunch. Stapling the bags together will assure that everything is there when I need it.

Sadly, I have to go out in the chill to get more oil. But I think it’s worth it.

A reader suggested putting white cheddar in my cheese. I think I’ll try that today at lunch. The cheese I’m using is excellent (when oiled), but the flavor is not absolutely perfect.

Plus Frozen Dough

Time to bless you with more pizza information.

A week ago, I was interrupted while making pizza. I took the risen dough and wrapped it in foil and stuck it in the freezer. Today I needed lunch, and I remembered the dough. I thawed it out and used it.

In the past, I’ve noted that dough improves with age, but I was too lazy to experiment and give definite results. This week I experimented accidentally, bypassing laziness. And the results were excellent. The crust had more flavor and a better texture than my usual one-hour dough. So I’m going to do what Mike does. I’m going to make a pile of dough portions and freeze them. This will make pizza more convenient and less messy, since I’ll only use the food processor once.

I plan to freeze the dough in disks, not balls. A disk will thaw faster, and it takes less work to turn a disk into a pizza. Mike uses balls. He also hits them with microwaves for about 45 seconds to thaw them. That probably won’t work as well with disks, because they have thinner parts which may overcook. I went 40 seconds today, but that was as far as I was willing to take it. I had to leave the dough out for maybe an hour and a half before I could turn it into a pie.

The dough was coated with olive oil twice. First, when I made it. I put it in a Pyrex dish with a light coating of oil, and I let it rise. Then I was interrupted, and I froze it. When I took it out today, I applied a little more oil to keep it from drying while it thawed. It worked great.

It seems like pizza dough gets better and better the more it rises. If you go too far, you can always punch it down.

I think I made this pie with bread flour. I can’t remember.

Second thing: I have new information about improving bad cheese. I’m using Gordon Food Supply’s mozzarella/provolone mix, which is fairly good but too low in fat. In the past, I’ve added a small amount of butter to improve it. This keeps it from burning, makes it chewier, and prevents it from tasting like vinyl. Today I added butter to one half and olive oil to the other half. I used between a teaspoon and a tablespoon of fat for four ounces (weight) of cheese. Just enough to coat it. I didn’t use a real measuring spoon, but I would guess I used two teaspoons per four-ounce half, and it was ample.

The olive oil side was better. Butter can make the cheese too rich. The olive oil added flavor without making the cheese too greasy. And the cheese laid down better when it melted. So I highly recommend it. Just don’t overdo it. This will be a lot easier than driving to Costco to get their flawless mozzarella. I have a feeling it will also work on supermarket cheese.

This pie was truly excellent. I think I got my mojo back.

I may also divide my sauce into two-ounce portions and seal it in vacuum bags. It’s almost a month old, and it’s going to go bad if I don’t do something. Those gallon cans are so wasteful. The Stanislaus people should wake up and start selling small retail cans.

Warding Off the Prince of Persia

I am trying to figure out what to do for the next 40 days.

Every year my church has a 40-day thing. You can fast for 40 days or make some other sacrifice during this time. You’re supposed to sign up. I was sick all week, so I forgot about it until I went to church on Sunday. They had a form to fill out, and there was no way I was going to come up with something during the service, so I held onto the form. I guess I can turn it in this weekend.

I decided to spend one hour in prayer every afternoon until February 12. That’s a good one. This illness has wrecked my prayer routine, and I am desperate to get it back in shape. Mid-day prayer is very powerful. But that still leaves the question of fasting.

I considered doing a “Daniel fast.” This means you cut out bread, flour, rice, meat, wine, sweets, and all beverages other than water, for 21 days. It was tempting at first, but the more I think about it, the more it sounds like a giant bummer. And I don’t have a lot of faith in partial fasts. I got fantastic results with a water-only fast this summer. I was relieved of some self-control issues, including a lifelong tendency to overeat. But would I get that kind of payback from a Daniel fast? Not sure.

I already have regular fasts built into the month. Maybe I should add one day a week.

Fasting with no particular goal seems like a dubious practice.

Maybe the prayer-hour thing is enough. You can make yourself crazy with unnecessary asceticism.

In my opinion, this stuff means nothing unless accompanied by prayer. Perry Stone seems to agree. He says that when you fast, you’re not supposed to lie around watching TV, waiting for the day to end. The point of the exercise is to enhance your communication with God, so I guess it should be obvious that the prayer part is more important than the fasting part.

Now that my illness is fading, I’m going to get back on track. I’ll be able to get up earlier and resume my morning prayer routine. That will set me up great for the afternoons.

My Fein Multimaster arrived. I have no idea what to do with it. It was really just a way of avoiding letting credit-card points expire. I should find an excuse to plunge-cut some holes in something.

I guess it was a reasonably smart buy. There is no way I would have spent actual money on this thing, so this is the only way I would ever have gotten one.

I’m taking a break from sight-reading practice. I think I finally figured out how to practice correctly. I should have listened to my piano teacher. He said he would open books of sheet music at random and just play. I tried software and sight-reading books instead. For the timing, the programs and books are fine, but they don’t work for note-reading. Why? Because they’re repetitious. Sight-reading is playing music at sight, which means “not by memory.” If you play a sight-reading exercise twice, the third time, your memory kicks in. That renders the exercise useless. You need a continuous supply of unmemorized material. That’s why random sheet music is better.

Boy, was I stupid. I didn’t understand the importance of what he was telling me. I don’t think he did, either. When you’ve always done something right, maybe it’s hard to guide people who do it wrong.

Memory doesn’t seem to interfere with timing practice. I guess it’s easier to memorize pitch patterns than time patterns.

If this works, I won’t have to break the piano up for kindling. I’ll be able to use it. That would be a dream come true. I am hoping God will help me become a competent musician so I can make use of my gifts. Wasted potential is an ugly thing. It would be a thrill to compose some decent songs. I’d love to be able to write music fluently instead of one note every five minutes.

I was insanely gifted at languages when I was a kid. I barely worked, but I won prizes. My college French instructor asked if I had lived in France. Then I got old and my memory weakened, and memory is a big part of it. If I can get my memory working halfway right again, I should regain a lot of my ability to learn symbolic systems. And music is a symbolic system, very much like a language. Maybe ability will trump old age to some extent. I seem to be picking sight-reading up pretty quickly now. Tonight I found myself skipping pieces because they were too simple. These were really easy pieces, but still.

I’m hitting the B1 and sleeping long hours and losing weight. I memorize psalms every day. I can’t think of anything else that might help, except for gingko biloba, and I’m afraid to take it because I have no idea what it does.

You can’t cry about lost opportunities. You have to strengthen what remains and keep moving. I managed to do a good job of maximizing my writing ability. That’s worth something. A lot of people would be happy to do one thing well. Maybe some day I can find a young person who is wasting his talents, and I can kick him in the rear end until he realizes what he has. If you can’t be a success, you can be a warning to others.

I make a great cheesecake. When I question my self-worth, I can always remember that. And maybe music will still pay off.

Start Here

Someone asked me to post my pizza recipe. I am getting rusty, but I think this will work.

CRUST

1 cup flour
1 tablespoon dry yeast
4 oz. water
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons olive oil

Warm the water to make the yeast happy. Dissolve the yeast in it. I usually dissolve half a teaspoon of sugar in it to give them something to feed on. When the yeast foams up, you’re ready to make dough.

Put everything except the water mixture in a Cuisinart with a regular blade. Turn the Cuisinart on. Dribble the water mixture in until the flour forms a single big glob. Continue to process for one minute. For bigger amounts (over two cups of flour), you may want to use the special dough blade.

At this point, you should have a dough that is squishy enough to work, but not sticky. If it’s too sticky to work, blend a little flour in. If it’s too dry, add water.

You can use ordinary all-purpose biscuit or bread flour. If you love gluten, you can use bread flour and add a spoonful of gluten flour. If you hate gluten, use biscuit flour.

You don’t need fancy 00 flour, but there is no reason you can’t use it if it makes you happy.

You don’t have to put oil in the dough. If you don’t, however, it may be impossible to toss, because the outside will dry and crack while you work it. This doesn’t matter if you roll it. A tossed crust will usually be a little better than a rolled crust, and it’s easier to get the flour off of it.

Form the dough into a disk. Coat the disk with a thin layer of olive oil. Put in a covered dish to rise. I oil the dish lightly. When the dough has at least doubled in size, it’s ready to form into a pizza. This amount of dough will make a thin 12″ pie with a half-inch lip. Toss it or roll it. Put it on a pizza screen.

If the dough holes while you’re working it, you can smoosh the edges of the holes back together and keep going.

SAUCE

4 oz. Stanislaus Super Dolce sauce
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2-1 teaspoon sugar
1 tablespoon white vinegar
dry oregano to taste
1-2 tablespoons olive oil

Add enough water to the sauce to make it loose enough so it won’t form peaks. This is probably more sauce than you need for a 12″ pie, but you don’t want to err on the light side. Put enough sauce on the dough to make it red, but don’t bury it. The best tool for spreading sauce is your fingers. They are less likely to weld the dough to the screen.

Almost all supermarket tomato products are bad.

Use 6 ounces (weight) of Costco shredded mozzarella. You can also use sliced whole-milk mozzarella from the deli counter at a grocery. If you want to go all-out, find a place that sells Grande brand cheese. When the cheese is on the pie, sprinkle about half a teaspoon of oregano on it.

Scamorza cheese is also good, and you might enjoy a blend of mozzarella and provolone. Be careful about using part-skim cheese. It may burn too fast. If you end up with cheese that doesn’t have enough fat in it, you may be able to save it by tossing it in a tablespoon of melted butter before you put it on the pie. You can add flavor by adding grated cheese.

Almost all shredded supermarket cheese is bad.

Dump the pizza on a stone in a 550-degree oven. Cook for four minutes. Using an aluminum peel, remove the screen and leave the pizza on the stone. Bake for 2 1/2-3 minutes.

That’s it.

This may not be your favorite type of pizza, but it will give you a safe place to start. If you can stand to make dough a day in advance and refrigerate it, it will probably be better. You don’t have to use a screen, but it’s easier than using semolina and a peel.

Cheese pizza is the real test of a recipe. Any pizza tastes good when you cover it with crap. While you’re trying to get your recipe right, your best bet is to make cheese pizza over and over before you use toppings.

Enjoy.

I was a Fool to Believe

Does it make sense to use the word “disappoint” when you’re referring to something that fulfilled your low expectations? Doesn’t disappointment necessarily include surprise?

Whatever. The Domino’s pizza I ordered was not good, and I guess I’m not disappointed, because I’m not surprised.

Here is the rundown.

1. Cheese. Seems like the old cheese to me. It was a lot like vinyl, and it was browned in many places, suggesting it’s too low in fat.

2. Crust. Still soft and flavorless, like Wonder Bread. But now it has a fishy-tasting, salty coating of grease on the edge. I can’t figure that out. The fishy taste suggests canola oil is involved; canola is naturally fishy-tasting. But maybe there was some kind of anchovy contamination at the local store.

3. Sauce. Can’t tell the difference between the new and the old.

I wanted to like it, but it’s just not good. They need to get real cheese with fat in it. They need a crust that has a little yeast flavor in it; the main reason people like pizza is that it tastes like fresh bread. They need a sauce you can taste. And that fishy grease has to go. I don’t even understand that stuff.

Maybe they were trying to imitate Pizza Hut’s spray-can butter. That’s a mistake. It does not take a genius to realize that butter was never meant to be an aerosol.

If you want to make pizza with very low risk of failure, use Grande or Costco cheese, Stanislaus Super Dolce sauce, and a simple crust made from flour, yeast, water, salt, pepper, and maybe a little olive oil. This business of hiring dubious chefs and rounding up focus groups is not the way to go.

I wonder why the pizza was so much better back in the Eighties. The new ingredients must be processed industrial waste from China. There has to be an explanation for a decline this steep.

Domino’s Gives it a Shot

Finally, something interesting in the news. Domino’s has decided to improve its pizza.

I worked for Domino’s about a thousand years ago. At that time, the pizza was very good. I saw the ingredients as they were delivered, and it was all good stuff. Real cheese. Real meat. Quality dough. The pizza wasn’t the New York style I prefer, but it was satisfying.

I don’t know why it got so bad after that. I suspect lawyers are part of the reason. The last time I had a Domino’s pizza, the crust was a lot like Wonder Bread. Spongy. Too easy to chew. I couldn’t figure out why they would ruin it by making it soft. Then a bell rang. Liability. Somewhere, someone has probably sued Domino’s because their dentures came out when they bit into a slice. Another possibility: a lot of food companies intentionally make their products bland and wimpy because that way, they offend the fewest customers. Consider Budweiser. It’s a pathetic excuse for a beer. It’s basically sweetened water with carbonation. But the lack of flavor makes it easy to drink, provided you keep it very cold. And it’s cheap.

Don’t ask me why the sauce went downhill. When I worked at Domino’s, they told me Tom Monaghan himself had created the recipe.

Now Domino’s says it’s sorry. They claim their new pizza is worth eating, and they even have a sale going, with a guarantee.

I have to try this. My policy is to try any new pizza restaurant that shows up near me and any restaurant that makes a significant change.

I have a feeling I’ll be disappointed. Good cooks are hard to find; traditional hiring strategies tend to locate people who are aggressive, hard-working, or connected. Those characteristics have nothing to do with good food. The fact that a person got A’s at cooking school says absolutely nothing about his ability to make food you will want to go back for over and over.

In my mind’s eye, I picture a bunch of enthusiastic but talentless corporate types, doing “trust exercises” and fire-walking and singing the company song and so on, when they should really be looking for someone who can cook. Screaming “WE’RE NUMBER ONE” really loud at corporate meetings doesn’t actually improve your pizza.

I’m disturbed that they say they added cayenne to their sauce. Pizza Hut makes spicy sauce, and it’s a mistake. Italy is not Mexico. But I can’t issue a ruling until I try it. I think I’ll order a pie for dinner.

I feel like Charlie Brown, running up to kick the football again. Will Lucy pull it away at the last moment? Probably. But if you don’t do the research, you don’t find the best pizza.

Japan Enters Cookware Fray

The Internet is an endless source of vital information, provided you are a seasoned Boolean-logic miner. Today I found some good news concerning cast iron cookware.

First, the current status of my collection. I have Griswold large-logo skillets in sizes 6 through 9, although I haven’t been able to make myself season and use my #7, because the bottom appears to have been damaged by sitting liquid. I have three Benjamin & Medwin skillets from Target (a set). I have a couple of big Lodge skillets. Other than that, I have a Dutch oven and some other irrelevant items.

The #9 is the ultimate breakfast skillet. Eggs slide right out, and they have that “cast iron fried egg” taste.

I wanted to complete the Griswold collection, but it looks like that won’t be possible. Sort of. I like the skillets without heat rings, because they sit directly on the range top. A heat ring lifts the skillet up a fraction of an inch. I just looked in my Griswold and Wagner reference book (why are you staring at me?), and it turns out my skillets were never made in sizes larger than 10. So I can get a 10, but that’s about it. I have no interest in the smaller sizes. I can’t figure out what they’re for.

If I want to go bigger, I’m going to have to pick a new brand, and it looks like Wagner will do. Their skillets sell a little cheaper, but they’re just as good.

I was considering fly-cutting the insides of my Lodge skillets to make them as good as my old Griswolds. They heat unevenly, and they’re rough. I may still do it, but it’s a perilous enterprise. I have no idea how uniform a skillet bottom has to be to conduct heat evenly, so I don’t know what I’m shooting for. I’m not sure how flat the undersides of the skillets are, either, and if I used the fly cutter, the undersides would be my references (think about it), so if they’re screwed up, the machining will also be screwed up. Even more aggravating: I have no tools suitable for measuring skillet-bottom-thickness.

Lodge skillets are just no good. I’m sorry. It’s that simple. I’d give mine away if I knew anyone who would want them. I only have two, plus a Dutch oven. I guess the oven is okay, since the finish is not as critical. Also, I never use it.

Oddly, the Target skillets seem okay. I had to polish them with a drill and an attachment, but they seem to work all right. Maybe they were made in a nicer part of China. Unfortunately, only one is in a useful size. One is really small, and the other is just barely wrong for cornbread. If you make cast iron skillets, you should know 9″ is standard for cornbread.

Speaking of the Far East, it turns out the Japanese make excellent cast iron pans. If you root around on the web, you can find a company called Iwachu. Like, “You better not shoplift in my convenience store, because Iwachu.” Or something. They make skillets. One size, as far as I can tell. I haven’t seen one up close, but people on the web say nice things about them.

I found another Japanese company called Nakedpan that makes skillets.

The Japanese make very high-quality cast iron. Big shock there. You can even get fancy teapots. Girly stuff. Very nice, if that’s what turns your crank.

I also checked Wagner’s site. They still exist, and they sell crappy Chinese (I assume) skillets. But wait! All is not lost! A few years back, I bought a new Wagner polished skillet. They take the crappy skillets and mill out the insides. They’re not as smooth as a Griswold, but the one I have has performed perfectly. It’s a #6, and I use it for cornbread.

I wanted to get more of these, but there was some reason why I didn’t. I think they only offered one size, or their website went down. I can’t remember. But now the site is up, and they offer skillets up to 13.5″ across. I’m inclined to get a couple. They won’t increase in value like Griswolds, but they may actually work better, and I won’t care if I destroy them, and I won’t have to sit watching Ebay for nine months to get a good price.

Here’s why I think they may work better. New cast iron is thick; that’s good, because it means heat retention and, maybe, better heat distribution. Old cast iron is thin. That’s good, because it reflects the high quality of the castings. The new stuff is cruder. My theory is that a new skillet that has been machined will have the heating qualities (and maybe warping resistance) of a new Lodge, with the smoothness and uniformity of an old Griswold.

I think it’s worth fifty bucks to find out. That’s what a big Wagner costs.

I wanted to tell Mike this important news, but for some reason he is wasting his afternoon cooking dinner for his family.

I came across a cast iron know-it-all on a forum. He was telling everyone what iron to get and how to treat it. He seemed to know absolutely everything you could want to know about the subject. He talked about polymers and other things I know nothing about. Interesting thing: his conclusions were pretty much identical to the ones I’ve come to via trial-and-error, bullheadedness, and pure ignorance. That happens to me a lot.

1. Season iron at 450, not 350.
2. Lodge is no good.
3. Pork fat for seasoning. He also recommended Crisco. He did not like light oils.

He also said you can’t remove seasoning with soap and water. That may be true, but you can definitely wreck the nonstick qualities, so it still seems like a bad idea.

He said the finish you get at 350 degrees isn’t even seasoning. You have to burn the fat to get the kind of molecules that make real seasoning. I guess the 350-degree finish is more like varnish. It certainly smells like it. It gets rancid when you don’t use the skillet.

Okay, to sum up:

1. Mike has ridiculous priorities.
2. Wagner polished skillets seem okay.
3. I am right about everything that matters.

Must be the Hash Browns

I feel wonderful today, but I can’t figure out why. Is it because I’m getting over the virus that has slowed me down for a week? Is it one of those mysterious Christian things? Or is it the fact that I just had a MAGNIFICENT MCDONALD’S BREAKFAST WITH REAL COFFEE INSTEAD OF DECAF????

Cynics will move directly to the third option.

This virus is extremely odd. It makes one part of my body sick. Then that part of my body gets well. Then another part gets sick. It’s as if every part of my body has to develop its own resistance. I know that makes no sense. It started out in the upper part of my throat, and then that went away, and night before last, it went to the lower part of my throat. Now that’s breaking loose. It spent some time in my nose and sinuses, too. Where will it go next?

When I was in law school I had a bug like this, and when it got done with the rest of me, it made stuff come out of my eyes. I mean, come on. Give up, already. You lost. Get out. This is starting to seem like pettiness.

When I was a kid, my mother passed on a helpful tip from my great-grandmother. Her remedy for colds and the flu was to wrap up in quilts and sit by the fireplace, roasting her feet. I think this probably works, although I have dismissed other old Kentucky remedies, such as drinking sheep manure tea to make chickenpox pustules break. For several days, upon waking up, I’ve been cranking up the heat in the electric mattress pad and lying there until I get uncomfortably warm. Seems to make for a much better day. This is as close as I can get to roasting my feet by a fireplace. Maybe I could roast my feet by the plasma cutter.

I feel better today, but the improvement is mostly emotional, not physical. My symptoms have improved a lot, but I would not call myself well.

Whatever it is, I’ll take it. It’s better to feel happy than well.

I have to get off my butt and go to church today. I missed all sorts of stuff this week. I could have spent two days looking after a big-time Christian musical act while they visited the church. That would have been great. I missed the New Year’s services. I missed my prayer group this morning; I wanted to go, but it was 50° outside, and I was afraid I would be inviting a relapse by getting up too early and driving to Hallandale with wet hair. And I figured I’d give the bug to the other guys in the group, as well as the nice waitress who takes care of us. Then she’d be dead, and we’d be banned from Denny’s.

I considered going to the doctor today just to make sure what’s happening to me is normal and harmless. Then I remembered something. I saw a mezuzah in his office. Do I really want to see a Jewish doctor on Saturday? Wouldn’t I be contributing to the delinquency of a backslider, or something? The last time I saw him, it was on Saturday, and I didn’t even think about this.

I want to DO something today. I wonder how active I can be without inviting death. I could put the VFD on my drill press. I could try to fix the questionable ergonomics in the garage. Sooner or later, I am going to have to bite the bullet and part with my workbench. I have to get a dust collector, and I don’t need the bench any more, because my table saw provides me with, like, thirty square feet of horizontal surface.

AUUUGHHH I feel liquid running down inside my ear! Is this the virus’s latest attack?

Wait. It’s water from the shower.

Never mind.

“Quiet” Tool-Obsessed Neighbor Amassed Arsenal of Lethal Peppers

I decided to torture my virus with more hot food. I hit the store and got ingredients for doro wat. The plan was to make it even hotter than the curry I made a few days ago. I picked four habanero golds plus one big Trinidad Scorpion to season it.

Now I have the stew bubbling on the stove, but it seems like the virus just went away. My head opened up, and I feel much better. Maybe it was the fumes from the burning onions, toasting spices, and minced peppers. Or maybe I’m really cured.

I have to ask myself: do I still want to eat this stuff if I’m not sick?

Of course I do. Let’s not kid ourselves.

I’m planning to make rotis instead of injera. I can’t help it. Rotis are better. And I bought sour cream to wrap up in there with the doro wat.

Tomorrow I may have something that makes a virus seem pleasant.

More

Ohhh…that was amazing. My brain actually melted and ran down my throat. I can’t say I miss it. I haven’t used it since 1996.

Take my word for it. Rotis are ten times better than injera. Dump a big pile of doro wat on one, make sure there’s a boiled egg in there somewhere, add a big blog of sour cream, fold it up like a burrito, and GO.

Bedeviled by Sean Connery’s Catchy Mantra

Here’s a near-paradox. I love sleep, but I hate rest.

I felt pretty cruddy when I got up today, so I decided to do two things: rest, and stay warm. I think it was a mistake to be active yesterday. And the hotter I get, the better I feel. Except for smelling and sticking to things.

What do you do when you rest? I hate lying around watching TV. I don’t have enough character to do something productive while I rest. This is one of those times when the Internet is actually good for something.

What can I blog about? Here’s something fun. I never, ever redeem my credit card points, and they keep expiring. The stuff you can buy with them is usually not very interesting, so I forget to redeem them, and I lose them.

This year I decided to redeem them for a Sears gift certificate and see what I could find. I decided to get a Fein Multimaster.

This is one of those tools no amateur buys for himself, because they’re insanely expensive for what you get. But when you have a pile of old credit card points and nothing else to do with them, putting them toward the price of a Multimaster seems almost justifiable. It beats not using the points at all.

I have no use for it, as far as I know. Detail sanding, I guess. Cutting things in awkward spaces. That’s about it. I think it’s one of those tools that come into play at random moments, when nothing else works. Like a Dremel.

Maybe I should go lie on my back and listen to religious CDs. I actually enjoy that. If you’ve never had an experience you considered supernatural, this kind of thing can be boring or silly, but when you’ve seen a few kooky things, it’s comforting to hear other people talk about their own manifestations.

What else can I do? No cooking. I’ve gained two pounds. Was it the holidays? Partly. Mainly, I’ve been eating too much because I feel sorry for myself. If I can’t do anything or go anywhere, I should at least be able to eat ice cream, right? That was my line of reasoning. But I am not willing to gain weight, so I had to quit.

I could practice sight-reading, which is like studying Harry Reid speeches while eating liver and waiting in line to have your driver’s license renewed. I’ve decided I’m going to do one of two things: learn to sight-read and give keyboards another chance, or give up the whole keyboard dream. A cousin of mine is married to a famous trombone virtuoso, and she suggested sight-reading as a way of compensating for my deteriorating musical memory. Can’t hurt to try. If I can make myself do it, I might at least be able to compose efficiently, even if I never become a good pianist. Composing was my original goal.

I’m working on improving my memory. I memorize scripture and I am fanatical in my efforts to get enough sleep. And I’m losing weight. I have this idea that being fat is bad for the brain. I’m also taking B1 again.

God gave me a big pile of gifts, and so far, my biggest achievement has been creating the world’s best cheesecake. I realize that’s a major feat which, on its own legs, justifies my elevation to sainthood. But I can’t help thinking I should be accomplishing more. “Cheesecake” makes for a short resume. I hear such beautiful music in my head; surely I was intended to write some of it down.

Christian music was great for a few years, but it seems to be in a slump. Some of the songs they play at my church are so monotonous, you wonder why anyone bothered paying for the copyright registration. If I wrote a song like that, I’d delete it from my hard drive without telling anyone. Christians ought to have quality music again. We don’t want to spend eternity busing performers in from hell whenever we have a party.

I could practice. Or I could go look at YTMND.com for six hours.

My Nose Hairs are Smoking

I think I killed my digestive tract. I’ll have to replace it with PVC.

The chicken curry was magnificent. I was actually able to taste it through the viral infection. I used three habanero gold peppers in 2 pounds of chicken, and it was perfect. Any hotter, and I would not have been able to eat it. Any milder, and it wouldn’t have gotten the job done. I needed something to scorch my sinuses and open up all the little holes in my head, and this stuff did it.

I wish I had some chicken fat to add to it. That would make it even better.

I Attempt to Melt a Slotted Spoon

I found a doctor who works on Saturdays. This guy is open twelve hours a day during the week, plus Saturday mornings. Crazy. Seems like a good doctor. Very efficient. I commented on his schedule, and he says his friends can’t make a living because they don’t want to work.

He says I have a viral throat problem, so I have to avoid people for a few days. Unless they are people I want to kill. He also said you should always see a doctor when you have a sore throat, to make sure it’s not strep, which can affect your heart. This is pretty much why I showed up.

My blood pressure bordered on high, so he gave me a sheet of dietary instructions. I took a look, before giving it to Marv to chew on. He could have just said, “You know what you do all the time? Stop it.”

My diet is actually pretty healthy these days.

Last night was a fun ride. It started with a scratchy throat. Then it got worse, and I got unbelievable bone pains. I got so cold I could not get warm. I put three blankets on the bed and cranked the heated mattress pad to its highest setting, and my hands were still like ice. The air temperature in the room was 75, but it didn’t matter. Then, of course, I woke up frying. I slept about fifteen minutes.

I can’t drive for the church tonight. I guess they’ll find someone else to drive people from the shelter.

There’s one nice thing about being sick. It gives me an excuse to make blistering-hot food. When you have a cold or sore throat, spicy food and ice cream are the only things that taste good. I have to decide what I want. I’m thinking curried chicken.

The great thing about this opportunity is that I don’t have to share this, so I can make it so hot it glows. And I’m going to pile sour cream on it.

Soon the viruses will wonder what hit them. This body will not be a pleasant place in which to make a home and raise little viruses.

I feel pretty good today, except for the throat and a little mental fog.

Don’t Try to be This Holy at Home

PRIME RIB! PRIME RIB! PRIME RIB!

Time to put the roast in the Showtime oven!!!!!

Another Miracle? Ho Hum.

How many times do I have to write a blog post that begins with me saying that God has freaked me out?

I guess I’ll never stop.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, for the people who just want to read about tools, food, and politics), I can’t say much about the things that are freaking me out this week. They involve problems another person is having. I am working on a solution to some debilitating, life-ruining difficulties in another person’s life, and as he so often does, God is hammering me with one “coincidence” after another. And this time, my dad has a front-row seat. He can rationalize nearly any move of God away, but this one will be a special challenge. Man, I wish I could blog it.

My church is having a ten p.m. service tonight, and I would rather die than stay up past 9:30, but I’m going to go. I want to be there to show my gratitude for the things that are happening to me and around me.

I walked by faith back in ’84, when I lived on Kibbutz Geva. I never knew what I was doing as I made my way across Europe and to the kibbutz, but I found that as I continued putting one foot in front of the other, things simply worked out. When I returned to the US, that all stopped. I started to get it together about 20 years ago, but I abandoned ship because I got offended. Lately, I’ve been getting back on track. And once again, God seems to be right over my right shoulder, steering me around obstacles and opening doors. This is what life is supposed to be like, but it’s hard to make your mind up to live this way.

Yesterday a guy asked me if I wanted to write a book about his life. This happened as a result of the problems I mentioned above. I was in his office, trying to get help for someone else, and he dropped this question on me out of the blue. In front of my father! Incredible. I want to do it. I’m sure it’s a good project. I don’t know if there is any cash in it, but it’s exactly the kind of thing I want to do with my life from now on.

The person with the problems doesn’t know it, but a “perfect storm” of God’s contrivance has developed. Circumstances and timing are arranging themselves in such an extraordinary, odds-defying manner that this person will have no choice but to make a defining decision that will either end the problems or lead to perdition. Either way, the boil is coming to a head, and the collateral damage–the torment that has bled outward onto other people–is going to be cut off abruptly.

Day is going to break for me, and it will probably break for my father, because of the effect this spectacle will have on him. The only doubtful issue is whether it will break for the afflicted person. That depends on free will. God can be extremely persuasive, however, so I am not losing hope. God blinded Paul in order to wake him up. He has penetrated some very bony heads (mine included) and crushed many revolting egos. Defiance requires effort and strength, and God knows how to weaken people who need to be humbled. He put Lester Sumrall on a deathbed when he was in his teens. He has put many people on the floors of rehab facilities and jails. He has twisted a lot of arms in order to turn people around, and it often works. It’s a mistake to overestimate the impregnability of free will.

The other day I saw an Internet video where some guy was asking Kari Jobe questions, and she grinned and said God was “just wrecking” her life. I know what she meant. When God moves powerfully and quickly, it can be like an episode of Extreme Makeover, only without the ensuing foreclosure and divorce and arrests, because God does a better job than ABC.

If I will just listen, my life will be on rails from now on.

Dinner was fantastic. The pig was gorgeous. Everyone loved the flan. And Val’s aunt made ambrosia, which is…a COINCIDENCE…because Mike was asking me for a recipe yesterday. Maybe I can get her to spill the beans.

Talked to Val’s wife Maggie again about visiting church. I’m going to get them. And their little dog, too. Wait and see.

I have to poke Marv before I get in the truck. Merry Christmas Eve.

This Year’s Noche Buena Pig

I write a lot about tools and religion. Today I thought it might be interesting to talk about medicine. Here’s a look at the latest advances in prostate surgery. First, the surgery itself:

Second, the patient relaxing with a caring OR nurse.

I guess some of you realize this is not really prostate surgery. It’s the pig Val Prieto is cooking for tonight’s Christmas Eve feast. I helped him for a couple of hours, and during that whole time, I didn’t see a single kitchen implement, other than a spoon. It was all tools. Isn’t that how cooking should be?

This year he’s doing a small pig at his parents’ house. That’s a 50-pounder. And he cheated by buying congri instead of having me make it (thank you, Lord).

I know this does not photograph well, but here are some shots of the pig prep, in case you want to try this yourself. He got the pig at Winn-Dixie instead of the matadero, and he said it smelled fresh and was very clean. Until we got ahold of it.

The older gentleman in the photos is Val’s dad. The younger guy is his nephew, whose name I can’t spell. The OR nurse is Val’s sister.

There is some seismic instability in the pig, so I may have to run to Home Depot for some hardware cloth or chicken wire.

I prepared two pans of coconut flan, which I delivered this morning. Here’s a tip: if you cook your flan in disposable aluminum pans, put a heavy dinner plate on top of each one to keep it from floating in the water bath. If it floats, the flan will flow to the lower side of the pan, and you get a flan that is tall on one side and short on the other.

If you use my recipe, you might try adding an additional cup of half and half and maybe a tablespoon of sugar. I think I may have made the version in the book slightly thicker than it should be, and the added half and half will loosen it up.

Today is my dad’s birthday, and I got him a crappy fanny-pack-type thing for concealed carry. It’s perfectly nice, and it will be a great convenience, but it was cheap. He’s always telling me not to spend money on him, so I figured I’d let him see what happens when he asks for things he doesn’t really want. TOMORROW, on the other hand, he gets something better. A Glock 26 with Tru-Glo sights. I figure 24 hours of suffering are enough for him.

He’s 78 today, and I know he probably won’t live forever, so I figured I’d get him a gift to remember. On Father’s Day, he gets a pair of socks. Second quality. On sale. I am not made of money.

I know he’ll like the Glock, because he shot mine when he went shooting with me and my Christian buddies, and he loved it. I’m hoping this will give him incentive to keep shooting with us. I remember telling him we should take my pastor fishing, and he said, “I’m afraid he’ll get the Holy Ghost on me.” Maybe the same thing can happen at the range.

I have a prime rib roast in the fridge, for tomorrow. I salted it down and covered it with butter and mashed garlic. I’m hoping some of the salt will get into the meat. This will be the first time I’ve used a roast with the ribs cut off and tied back on. It will also be the first time I’ve used my dad’s Ronco Showtime rotisserie oven to do prime rib. The unknown variables scared me, so I called Mike for a consultation. He says he puts a little additional twine on the roast to reinforce it. That will keep the ribs and the meat from separating and falling apart.

He told me he likes to make prime rib and slice off a big portion of the fat and the underlying meat. You know the part I’m talking about. The extra-fatty meat around the outside of the cut. He likes to eat a sheet of that, basically. I was amazed to hear it, because one of my dreams has been to cook this and call it something like “filet of prime rib.” It’s unquestionably the best part of the meat.

I asked Mike what his wife and kids get when he does that, since it pretty well butchers the meat. He says A) he doesn’t care, because he does all the work and therefore makes the rules, and B) they don’t mind, because for some insane reason, they don’t want the fatty part.

Mike is a storehouse of that sort of manly wisdom.

Hope you and yours are having a fine Christmas Eve.