Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder and Hypertensive

It's been one month and thirteen days that we've been without a functioning kitchen.  I've had four home-cooked meals, thanks to good and loving friends concerned about our sodium levels.  I am beginning to feel like a salt lick with legs - is it possible to get hypertension from six weeks of take out and restaurant meals? I can't stop thinking about meals I made in the months before the demolition.  Even the ones that were kind of meh are now crave-worthy, simply because I knew what was in them, really.

There was this pork loin braised in milk from Dinner a Love Story.  The cookbook was a wedding gift and a joyous surprise.  I picked it up to read this fall and was hooked; this was the first recipe I tried and it delivered.  My only suggestion is to get the largest-diameter pork loin roast you can, so you don't have to add a ton of extra milk.  Make it, though, it's awesome.  And make it for friends who appreciate ugly, delicious food.

Braised Pork

I long to make slow-cooked stocks.  A friend recently launched a lovely new blog and posted her stock recipe, which I've been dying to try -- 40 hours of slow cooking, loaded with good healthy things.  No salt lick.  I keep thinking about how much fun I had cooking for Thanksgiving - crazy flip charts and all - and how proud I was of my homemade stock for my first homemade gravy.  It was groovy, groovy gravy.

Making Homemade Turkey Stock

I don't have a picture of the gravy.  We ate it.  Right down to the picture.

And then there were the rum runner hand pies.  When I can bake again, I'll bake these again, and try to mail down the recipe.  Oh the burden.


We are so, so close to eating all of the vegetables I can dream of.  The floor is in, mostly.  The cabinets are in, mostly.  By midweek we should have our appliances back in their new places and a temporary counter.  We'll be cooking with gas, even if it's prepared on temporary plywood counter tops. Which will be replaced with lovely new ones a week after that.  Give or take a few minor setbacks, I'm sure.

In the meantime, enjoy your kitchen - even if it has crazy, crappy, cracked fifties tile and windows painted shut and cupboard doors that don't close and house legions of silverfish.  If you didn't have it for long enough, you'd miss it (a little).