Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Something about the description of Peter Heller’s Celine grabbed me, strongly enough that I entered for and ended up winning a free copy.  I don’t read many  mysteries, but the idea of a P.I. from an old-money New England family who specializes in reuniting birth families?  It drew me in.  I have three elementary schoolers and a starting-next-week-preschooler, however, so my early copy has been sitting on my shelf for months.  I was delighted when I finally realized that my library had it in e-audio, which meant I could listen to it on the elliptical (and while sorting laundry, or doing dishes) and skim my hard copy for anything I missed.  (The narrator took some getting used to, but I did get used to her eventually.)  I’ve been doing just that all week, finishing up last night while I was getting ready for bed, which means that at long last I get to review it for your reading pleasure.  (You’re welcome.)

First of all, if my dad were 15 years younger, I’d give him this book in a heartbeat.  Heller writes with deep appreciation of both New England and the Mountain West; my dad has lived in and loved both places.  (I’ve lived in both places, but I’m not outdoorsy enough by nature to have developed his appreciation of Utah and the Uintahs.)  Setting, particularly of the nature and small town variety, is part of Heller’s story.

As far as his writing in general, Heller seems to eschew conventional transitions, which felt occasionally odd but more or less successful, in its own way.  His characters’ “Hah!”s of laughter translate better in an audio format–I didn’t love them on the page.  Overall, his style is different from my usual preferences, but it ultimately felt like part of the novel, so–hey.  It worked.  Certain side characters were fond of the F-word, which did bother me, but thankfully not the main characters.  (There are enough instances of language that you should go into it expecting same, but not so many that it felt like the entire book was peppered with profanity.)  There was a page and a half somewhere in the middle of the book that grated on me–Heller was describing a beautiful woman from Celine’s point of view in a way that struck me as wholly male, not at all female–but thankfully it was an isolated incident.

Lastly, the story itself–which just kept drawing me in more deeply.  Celine and Pete’s journeys, Hank’s journey, and the case itself weave in and out in a way I appreciated more as the story went along.  I found myself continually hoping it was the start of a series, which speaks volumes all by itself.  If the premise of the book intrigues you and you can deal with a certain amount of language, you won’t be disappointed–even if you’re more of a crime drama watcher than a mystery reader, like me.

Several parts fruit being made into jam

Almost two weeks of sudden early mornings after a summer of sleeping in a bit

One beast of a 3,000-piece puzzle

One audiobook

One 3-year-old who likes to wander into Mommy and Daddy’s room at 2 AM

(I seriously almost missed tonight’s post as well.  I shall attempt better concentration!)

I was ridiculously excited when Alan Alda’s If I Understood You, Would I Have This Look on My Face?:  My Adventures in the Art and Science of Relating and Communicating showed up on my phone.  (I love that digital holds are automatically borrowed from the library when they become available.)  After the sad strangeness of my last audiobook I was looking forward to something funny, and really, how can Alan Alda not be funny?  (He can’t not.  Period.)  What I glossed over slightly in my mind was the subtitle, which states exactly what the book is; rather than a memoir, it’s a book about what he’s learned about empathy and ‘theory of mind’, especially as they relate to communication in general and communication in science in particular.  It’s amusing, yes, because it’s by ALAN ALDA, and he reads it himself, but it’s informative enough that it wasn’t quite as distracting on the elliptical as I wanted it to be.  If I had it to do over again, I’d read it instead of listening to it.

I’d still absolutely read it, you understand.  Both because it was incredibly interesting and because, well, ALAN ALDA!

Once upon a time we acquired a 50 lb box of red potatoes.  Reds are our favorite potatoes, you understand, but the box was acquired at the beginning of summer, which meant that soups and a multitude of other hot things weren’t going to be eaten much for the next few months.  In those months the potatoes sprouted and grew alarmingly, and yesterday morning I decided to tackle the potatoes and try a slow cooker recipe I’ve been eyeing, thus killing two birds (or hundreds of potato sprouts) with one side dish.

The good news?  Pretty much everyone in the family happily ate these Slow Cooker Cheesy Bacon Ranch Potatoes (shocking, I know, but some of my kids still have a barely-there relationship with spuds in general).  I didn’t bother measuring anything other than the amount of potatoes, I didn’t put the last bit of cheese on top or garnish with chives (it was one of those days), and yet–success.  The bad news?  Well, let’s just say that potatoes that far gone into growth mode take a lot of work to render usable.  If your potatoes look like normal potatoes instead of Christopher Lloyd in the “Back to the Future” movies, you’re good.  The next time you need a side dish, give these a try!

Seriously.  In the last week or so we had a death (my uncle) and a funeral, a faceplant off the swing resulting in a doctor visit to check for a broken nose (my youngest), a wedding/ring ceremony/reception (my niece’s), a previously undiscovered cousin (long story), a day at the waterslides with my brother and his youngest (the kids and me), and the start of school for my older three (including my son’s first day of first grade).  That would be why I missed on Sunday, and that’s why this blog post is going to be impressively brief.  I tried these Peach Oatmeal Muffins for dinner tonight, since I have peaches to be used from my parents’ peach tree, and they were–okay.  Texture-wise, they were all an oatmeal muffin should be; flavor-wise, well–they needed more of it.  I may try them again, but the spices need to be at least one-and-a-halved, and the salt could probably use upping as well.  What lovely peach recipes do you make?

I chose The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake as my next audiobook because I was thinking it would be in the same vein as The Cake Therapist, or Delicious!, or perhaps something by Sarah Addison Allen.

My brain is full–too full to easily empty all in one swoosh.  I’ll have to see what I can manage on Friday.

One of our neighbors asked my daughter to water her garden while she and her husband went camping for the weekend, and she told her she was welcome to pick their beans while they were gone.  And WOW.  I have never seen such a bumper crop of green beans–she probably came home with 5 pounds of them in 3 days.  I went looking for interesting ways to use them, because why not?, and decided on this recipe for Seasoned Chicken, Potatoes, and Green Beans.  (Note:  I also have red potatoes that need using.)

I was a bit nervous about the cook time, based on some of the comments, but I went with about what it said because I was starting with partially frozen chicken; both the chicken and the potatoes came out quite nicely.  (They weren’t exactly the firmest potatoes to start with.)  The green beans were more done than we usually have, but they were seasoned and tasty and cooking them all together made for a one-pot meal, so I’m not complaining.  I can’t guarantee that completely thawed chicken and perfectly firm potatoes would cook up quite as evenly, but I’d probably just cut the potatoes a bit smaller and hope for the best.  Let me know how it comes out for you!

I finished listening to Helen Simonson’s The Summer Before the War today, and I’m a bit conflicted about it.  Her first novel, Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand, was full of gradual awakenings and even more gradual comeuppances; I remember asking Britt if the ending was satisfying, because if certain characters weren’t going to get what they deserved, I was going to be too irritated to put in the time to finish it.  She assured me I was safe to keep reading, and the ending was every bit as satisfying as she promised it would be.  The ending of The Summer Before the War, sadly, was not quite as satisfying–AND, in my opinion, the title was misleading.  WWI more or less begins about 115 pages into a 473 page novel, which means that a full three quarters of the book takes place during the war.  That makes it, overall, a war novel, which of course means that people die at the end, including some of the people to whom you have grown attached.  There are some comeuppances to be had, but just as much tragedy. (Come to think of it, both the title and the cover art belie the actual story.)

Of course, Simonson can undoubtedly write, and write well.  She has the Austenian gift of conveying what is real during the course of a polite conversation that studiously avoids reality at all costs; one laughs, cringes, grinds one’s teeth, and generally experiences an impressively wide range of emotions during all of those conversations.  There’s a bit of Agatha Christie’s England here as well–I wasn’t surprised to learn that her autobiography was part of Simonson’s period research.  Indeed, if I had expected a war novel, with all of the tragedy that implies, I would likely have come away–in general–very impressed.  (I say in general because a few bits of the falling action felt suddenly rushed, as if the fast forward button had been inadvertently pushed during a couple of scenes.  The pacing of the rest of the novel made the contrast noticeable.)  As it was, I felt a bit betrayed by what the novel became.  It’s absolutely worth reading when you know what you’re getting into, mind you–just don’t expect the same kind of reading experience as Major Pettigrew.

(Please forgive the proliferation of double dashes and such–I’m a bit tired to be writing this sort of review.  As for the tendency towards a bit of British-ness in the writing, this was a 15 hour long audiobook.  These things happen.)

I may not have finished any books, but I’ve got several recipes I ought to be reviewing.  Unfortunately, I’ve been awakened by a child for the last four nights, and my hubby and I are just now trying to rein in our bad bedtime habits, so I quite literally lack the mental energy.  I therefore offer you a mishmash of food recommendations that involve no cooking (and therefore no critical thinking) whatsoever.

1.  Just say yes to the Rocky Road Trip Oreos.  Dang, those things are good.
2.  I loved the pina colada thins, my sister liked the Pistachio.
3.  And to complete the Oreo trifecta, the Good Humor man Strawberry Shortcake Bar ones were disturbingly tasty.  It was a good season for Oreos.
4.  OH MY GOSH, the Tropical Mango Button Cakes that Costco carried this summer.  Made by Sugar Bowl Bakery, these individually packaged bits of rich, fruity, coconutty goodness have not done my waistline any favors.
5.  Who else quite enjoys the Reeses stuffed with pieces?  They work for me.
6.  For my Utah friends, the local corn selling at $3/dozen at Ream’s made quite a lovely dinner tonight.  Technically, one does cook corn, but really, you boil it in a pot of water.  (Grilling it was so not happening today.)
7.  There were “watermelon radishes” in my Zupa’s salad today.  Considering my profound dislike of garden-variety radishes, I was pleasantly surprised.
8.  Also, the brownie I got there–with caramel and pecans–was rather amazing.  I wasn’t expecting it to be anything like THAT good.

Alrighty, folks.  There’s your list for today.  Perhaps I can have a night or two of uninterrupted sleep and come up with the mental energy for an actual recipe review eventually…then again, perhaps not.  Only time will tell.