Accidental Balabusta

Recovery from surgery

Don’t let anybody tell you that recovery from knee replacement surgery is a walk in the park. It’s more like a hobble through hell. A very slow, frustrating, hobble with plenty of hurdles, pain and frustration. But, also, gradual victories and milestones.

My journey started off a bit rocky. One week before my knee surgery, I was diagnosed with severe sleep apnea and had to get a CPAP machine. Getting used to that is like getting used to having someone hold a pillow over your face while you sleep. And the apparatus itself – think Hannibal Lecter. Three weeks after my knee surgery, I had a bowel obstruction and landed back in the hospital for a couple of days.

As for the actual knee surgery, I had a spinal anesthetic and a nerve block. They also gave me conscious sedation, which, quite frankly, was my new best friend. Until I felt the surgeon cut into my leg, heard the electric saw they use to cut the thigh and shin bones, and felt the hammering. An unnerving experience, to say the least, and not one I’d care to repeat.

After surgery, in the recovery room, a young woman with black-and-green hair came over and announced that she was going to take an X-ray of my knee. As she leaned over me, the lanyard around her neck swung near my face. The strap on the lanyard said “Vancouver City Morgue.” I looked around, paused for a second, and said: “So, is this what hell looks like?” She corrected the misunderstanding and said the lanyard was a joke. I suggested she might want to remove it, lest she scare the next unsuspecting patient.

As for the process of recovery – I realize that each person’s journey is different and the most important piece of advice I can give someone going into knee surgery is this: do not, I repeat do not, compare your progress to others. While some well-meaning physiotherapists and other medical professionals suggested I might want to join a Facebook support group for people who’ve had knee replacement surgery, I strongly advise against this. There are people who will boast that they achieved a 90-degree bend in their knee two days after surgery, while others will bemoan the fact that it’s been 12 weeks and they still don’t have a 90-degree bend. Everyone heals differently and comparing yourself to others will only make you feel crummy. I speak from experience. Don’t do it.

Full recovery from a knee replacement is slow – they tell you it takes anywhere from six months to a year. If you’re an impatient patient like I am, it can be hard. Take the wins where you can, be thankful for every small step forward, celebrate the successes along the way.

Part of every knee replacement is the post-surgery physiotherapy. If I had to compare it to something, it would be like having a 350-pound bodybuilder sit on your newly operated knee, while bench pressing a Ford F-150 full of cement. It is the polar opposite of a pleasant experience. My physiotherapist happens to be a tiny but extremely muscular and strong woman. She’s only doing what she’s been trained to do but, from my perspective, it’s pure torture. Her goal is to get you mobile, bending your knee and active as quickly as possible. Even if that means making you cry and scream during your half-hour sessions. I always thought I had a fairly high pain threshold, but she blew that theory out of the water right at the get-go.

To be clear, I am the most compliant patient anyone could ask for. If my physiotherapist tells me to exercise two to four times a day at home, I do it. Sometimes, it pays off, sometimes it doesn’t. That’s where the frustration comes in. But then you get to a certain point where you wake up one morning and you think, “Hey, I can do the stairs more easily now. How did that happen?” To be sure, there are countless ups and downs during the recovery. The trick is to keep your eye on the prize and know that, at the end of it all, you’ll have a knee that no longer locks or gives out on you.

Recovery would have been much harder had I not had an incredibly devoted husband who did nothing but take care of my every need for more than two months. From helping me shower to doing all the grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, laundry, driving me to physio and doctor appointments, running errands, and taking care of many other things, Harvey was my rock. He never complained but, not surprisingly, he was exhausted. He’s 74 years old and has some medical issues of his own. More than once I suggested we get a cleaning lady, or do more food takeout, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He recently relented on the food takeout, I’m happy to report.

Here are a few things I’ve learned from this whole experience:

Give people what they need and want; not what you think they need and want.
Always express your gratitude for kind gestures, large and small.
Pay the kindness forward wherever and whenever you can.
Use whatever resources are available to keep calm, distracted and positive during the recovery process.
You don’t need to fight every fight. Choose your battles and conserve energy.
Help others as you would want to be helped.
Struggle is optional.

At age 67, I feel like the past few years, with their accompanying health challenges, have been one long audition for old age. Turns out there’s good news and bad news. The good news is that the audition is over. The bad news is that I got the starring role.

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

Homemade fun food & toys

Healthy food can make for a fun snack. The website hello, Yummy has lots of ideas about cooking for and with kids. This banana car with strawberry wheels and a graham cracker bear driver is but one option. (photo from helloyummy.co)

If I had a dollar for every time I heard a parent tell their kid to stop playing with their food, I’d be a very rich woman. I might even be able to afford a kosher prime rib roast. That being said, I’m here to tell you that sometimes it’s perfectly acceptable to play with your food. Like when there’s a banana strawberry car involved. Or maybe some peanut butter.

Anticipating the visit of my grand-nephew and grand-niece got me thinking about how we could have some fun together in the kitchen – without sending anyone to hospital or having to move afterwards. The 3-year-old, Raphael, loves to help his mom cook and bake, so I figured this would be the perfect way to bond with him. His 1-year-old sister, Ariel, might not be adept enough for the culinary process, but I’m sure she’ll eagerly participate in the finished product.

I think we can all agree that food is more fun when you can play with it. It brings out the inner kid in us, the one who’s just dying to squish mashed potatoes through our teeth. Unseemly behaviour for an adult? Sure. Have we all done it? You betcha. And who among us hasn’t rolled Wonderbread into soft little balls? The fact that edible toys are, for the most part, healthy, is a win-win. You just need to make good food choices.

For the super-fun banana car snack I found online (helloyummy.co) all you need is a banana, a couple of strawberries, some peanut butter to attach the “wheels” to the body of the banana car and a graham cracker “driver” (an animal cracker hippo or elephant works perfectly well, too). As for the strawberry “wheels” you could replace them with thick slices of kiwi, mango or even grapes. If you really want to get decadent, you could dip the banana wheels into melted chocolate, add a red licorice tailpipe, or tuck some raisins or blueberries into the “wheels” to simulate hubcaps. The possibilities are truly endless.

While the original recipe calls for using toothpicks to attach the wheels to the body of the car, I’m hesitant to do that, considering there’s a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old involved. It’s a foregone recipe for disaster.

Instead, I’m sticking with peanut butter as the adhesive (a glob of cream cheese could also work in a pinch). And, yes, I checked with their mom first to make sure neither of them is allergic to peanuts. Given that both kids were practically weaned on Bamba (the peanut-flavoured melt-in-your-mouth Israeli snack food), I figured I was safe on that count, but it’s always good to check with the parents.

Since I’m not sure of the practical play factor of these banana car snacks, there won’t be any makeshift racetracks as part of this edible experiment. (Will the wheels even turn? I doubt it.) Although I did see lots of great ideas on Google and Instagram.

Lucky for me that little Raphael and Ariel are the opposite of picky eaters. In fact, they’ll pretty much devour anything in sight. It doesn’t matter how esoteric, spicy, slimy, crunchy or smelly it is, they’re game to try it. And, if you transform the food into some kind of insect, animal or character they recognize, even better. All it takes is a bit of ingenuity and some basic foodstuffs. The look of sheer wonder on a kid’s face when they see an insect made out of celery, apples and pretzels, and then you tell them they can eat it – well, nothing beats that.

So, go ahead and play with your food, make mealtime and snack time fun, and let your imagination soar. It’s unquestionably a healthier choice than plopping kids down in front of a screen, plus it encourages innovation, resourcefulness and artistic expression.

Aside from fun food snacks, I’m a bit addicted to Instagram for all the cool DIY toys you can make for toddlers and preschoolers using nothing more than leftover paper towel rolls, ping pong balls, a plastic straw, a bit of tape and some kids scissors. As a former children’s librarian, I have all sorts of craft tricks up my sleeve, and I love the uniqueness of homemade toys. But I definitely need a craft refresh now and again.

I’m always a little disheartened by the number of adults whose go-to gifts involve ordering overpriced toys online. I know that not everyone has the time or inclination to make a gift, but I sometimes think our culture has just gotten lazy. And how many times have you seen a well-intentioned adult (with a lot of disposable income) buy a 2-year-old a $75 toy only to have the kid show more interest in the box or the bubble wrap? Expensive does not always equate to fabulous toys. Put some time and thoughtfulness into it, and I guarantee your DIY gift will be memorable.

The second summer of the pandemic, I made a bunch of felt animals for then-2-year-old Raphael and, according to his parents, he loved them. He’d stick them on any surface within reach, and they were a great way to learn animal names and have fun doing it. I’m not saying they were newsworthy, but they were all handmade with love.

And making them was not as onerous as you might think. Just find some free templates on Google, print them out, buy some felt and glue at the dollar store, do some tracing, and boom – you’ve got yourself some mighty fine felt board animals. Aside from putting them on surfaces throughout the house, you can cover a poster-size piece of corrugated plastic with felt (again, dollar store material) and use the animals to make up stories on the board.

It’s my belief that, if you make it, they will come. If you buy it, they may just play with the box instead. See you at the grocery or dollar store.

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

A foolproof eggplant recipe

Rebbetzin Chanie’s eggplant dish is “super-easy and ridiculously yummy.” (photo by Shelley Civkin)

A recent Shabbat dinner with Rabbi Yechiel and Chanie Baitelman and a few other guests was like waking into the light after being in darkness for three years. The isolation brought on by COVID, compounded by health issues leaving us feeling vulnerable, resulted in Harvey and I spending every Shabbat and all Jewish holidays by ourselves for three long years. It was our first Shabbat “out in the open” and we couldn’t have asked for a warmer or more welcoming environment.

Observant, but not very much so, Harvey and I are used to lighting Shabbat candles, and he always reads Eishes Chayil (Woman of Valour) to me. But that’s pretty much all we do on Shabbat. So it was truly a delight to spend it with the rabbi and Chanie, their two youngest children, and a few others. The Shabbat rituals added much to the sanctity of the evening, and reminded me why we do what we do, and why Jews are G-d’s chosen people. The singing, the chatting – really, just the feeling of being “home” – all contributed to this intimate and freilach (joyous) evening. And then there was the food.

No Jewish celebration is complete without spectacular homemade food. And Chanie hit all the right notes on that count. We started out the meal with a bunch of small dishes, including the best eggplant dish I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. There was also baked fish, another eggplant dip, a gorgeous salad, freshly baked challah and an Israeli couscous salad. And that was just to start! Having been a guest at their home before, I knew that this was just the beginning, and that I should pace myself. Juicy, delicious Shabbos chicken followed, along with zucchini and onion quiche.

The star of the show for me, though, was Chanie’s Middle Eastern eggplant dish, which is the stuff that Jewish dreams are made of. People always say delicious food is “to die for!” but, really, the saying should be: “It’s to live for!” Naturally, I asked Chanie for the recipe and she admitted that she doesn’t really use one, which is why it tastes different every time she makes it. I tried to nail her down, as I wasn’t about to let this amazing dish get away. A couple of days later, and after a lot of question-asking and prodding, she relented and texted me the ingredients. No measurements. Just ingredients. Her directions to me were simple: “Just taste it as you go along.” Not unlike what our grandmothers did. But this is not something you say to someone like me, who’s a bit compulsive, and a stickler for a recipe. Needless to say, I was a bit flustered by the meagre directions.

Not to be daunted by a challenge though, I did what I rarely do – I winged it. With great trepidation, I might add. Chanie’s eggplant dish was so spectacular that I just knew I had to figure it out on my own, no matter how many tries it took. And, whaddaya know, I hit it out of the ballpark on the first go! And now, as humbly as possibly, I will share (to the best of my memory) the ingredients and measurements that I recall, and if it doesn’t work out … well … just try again. All measurements are approximate. As if that helps.

REBBETZIN CHANIE’S EGGPLANT
(makes enough for four as a side dish)

3 smallish eggplants, cubed and with skin on
juice of 1 lemon
1/2 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
2-3 cloves minced garlic
2 heaping tbsp tomato paste
2 heaping tbsp honey or date syrup (I used honey)
large handful of parsley, finely chopped
pepper to taste

Dice unpeeled eggplants into small cubes and sprinkle generously with olive oil. Don’t be afraid to use a lot of oil. Then sprinkle with salt. Bake at 375°F. until very soft, about 40 minutes. Turn it halfway through.

While the eggplant is baking, fry up minced garlic in a good amount of olive oil. Once it starts to brown, turn the heat down and add lemon juice, cumin, paprika, smoked paprika, tomato paste, honey or date syrup, and pepper. As you fry it up, taste it and adjust accordingly. There won’t be a lot of sauce but, trust me, the flavour is enough to permeate all of the eggplant.

Once the eggplant is nice and soft, mix it in with the garlic and tomato paste mixture, add the parsley, and you’re good to go. This dish is spectacular on its own, or with challah or focaccia to soak up the oil. It’s great served hot but it’s even better served cold the next day, once the flavours have had a chance to meld and marry. My husband declared it “company worthy” and hopes I’ll make it daily. Nice try, honey.

What I like about this dish is that it’s super-easy and ridiculously yummy – it’s sweet, smoky and slightly tart all at once. It’s also very oily, but that’s part of its Middle Eastern charm. You can adjust the amount you use, as eggplant tends to suck it up like a sponge. In our household though, you can never have enough olive oil.

I served this eggplant dish with steak, but it would go well with pasta, fish, rice, chicken or pretty much anything. Chanie told me that she makes up a big batch of the garlic tomato paste mixture and freezes it, so that when she’s in the mood for eggplant, all she has to do is cube the eggplant, bake it and add it to her defrosted pre-made “sauce” mixture. If I were a store or a restaurant, I’d put a money-back guarantee on this dish. Short of outrageously over-spicing it, you really can’t go wrong. I mean, it’s eggplant after all. The nightshade superstar. Enough said. Go dice your eggplant and call me when it’s done. I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll even bring the bread.

Healthy food Harvey won’t eat

You can really put anything in a quinoa salad, depending on your taste. (photo from flickr / Marco Verch Professional Photographer)

Until recently, I had a very casual relationship with healthy foods. Neither me nor the veggies/tofu/fruit could commit. But now we’re besties. Not that I have eschewed chips, Cheezies and chocolate, by any means. I’m just branching out.

For decades, my meals could be described as culinary grenades just waiting to go off. If I tried to make something new, it was sure to result in one of two things: either Harvey or I would end up with food poisoning, or the meal would be so unspeakably disastrous that we’d have to go out for dinner or order in.

Then the pandemic happened. With restaurants closed and/or my anxiety in high gear about being around crowds who might spread COVID, we ate at home almost all the time. It came down to this: I could spend eternity eating the same three dishes, or I could start expanding my culinary repertoire (I use the word repertoire lightly). In hindsight, I could have boycotted the kitchen entirely. As it was, I was relying on Harvey to pick up the slack more than half the time, and I didn’t feel that was fair. What I’m trying to say is that I basically kitchen-shamed myself. Looking at friends’ food posts on Instagram and Facebook made me feel unspeakably inadequate. How had I gotten to my late 60s without being able to easily conjure up at least a dozen go-to dishes for dinner on any given night? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way.

Whereas I used to consider my dearth of cooking skills a life choice, now I realize how essential those skills are. Plus, I got tired of eating chicken, beef, fish. There are only so many ways to jazz up that same limited rotation. It was getting old, and so am I.

Enter quinoa, or what a nutritionist I knew once described as “the most complete non-animal protein on the planet.” It’s high in fibre, low in sodium, high in calcium, potassium, iron, magnesium and zinc. And it’s naturally gluten-free. Basically it’s a superfood. Just remember to rinse and drain quinoa well before cooking in order to remove any saponins, which have a bitter, soap-like taste.

It took awhile to be convinced of quinoa’s intrinsic goodness, especially given its unusual smell while cooking. But little by little I warmed up to it, and now it’s indisputably one of my favourite foods. Harvey, however, would rather have the combo platter of a colonoscopy and a dental implant than eat quinoa. We all make choices.

One of my favourite quinoa dishes is a simple salad that could also serve as a main dish, depending on how much stuff you add to it. To make enough for two solid meals, I’ll use about two cups of cooked quinoa (Google directions for cooking), diced cucumber, fresh blueberries and fresh mint, cut up. In the summer I add diced up mango. I’ve also been known to add canned chickpeas, diced tomatoes and pine nuts. I’ve seen recipes that include bell peppers, red onion, grated carrots, dried cranberries, and a variety of herbs. You can really put anything in there, depending on your taste. To boost the animal protein content, you could add tuna, salmon or chicken as well.

What elevates this salad to the next level is the dressing you put on it. In my pre-cooking days, I used to think that olive oil was enough to render any salad palatable. Expanding my dressing and sauces repertoire has resulted in much yummier salads. Here are four dressing options I use regularly.

HONEY MUSTARD DRESSING

1 tbsp grainy Dijon mustard
2 tsp honey
2 tbsp olive oil
juice of 1/2 a lemon
salt and pepper to taste

Combine mustard, honey and lemon juice and whisk them together. Then whisk in the olive oil. Voila!

SESAME GINGER DRESSING

1/2 tsp ground ginger
1 1/2 tbsp maple syrup
2 1/2 tbsp soy sauce
2 tsp white vinegar or rice wine vinegar
1 tsp sesame oil
1/2 tsp sesame seeds
juice of 2 limes

Whisk all ingredients together and enjoy this savoury dressing.

LEMON DRESSING

1/4 cup olive oil
grated zest from 1 medium lemon
1 tbsp fresh lemon juice
1 medium clove garlic, minced
1 tsp grainy Dijon mustard
1 tsp honey
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp ground black pepper

Whisk ingredients together and enjoy!

CAPER VINAIGRETTE

1 tbsp red wine vinegar
1 tsp grainy Dijon mustard
1 clove garlic, minced
2 tbsp capers, drained and chopped (or more, to taste)
3 tbsp finely chopped flat leaf parsley
1/4 cup plus 2 tbsp olive oil
1/2 tsp ground pepper
1/4 tsp salt

Combine all ingredients. This one is a very versatile dressing. I often use it on baked salmon and it’s delicious. It works well on chicken, too. I love capers, so I always add loads, but that’s a taste thing.

Check out Food and Wine magazine’s online suggestions for five ways to dress a quinoa salad at foodandwine.com/grains/quinoa/5-ways-dress-quinoa-salad. They venture into more unusual flavour profiles than I’d be willing to try, but for those of you who are more culinarily adventurous, go for it!

Quinoa is the true tabula rasa of foods, since it’s rarely eaten on its own, and it’s never usually the star of the show. It gets its street cred from its supporting cast of veggies, fruits, proteins and dressings. It can be cast for breakfasts, lunches, dinners or snacks, and it’s equally happy served hot or cold. Unlike some prima donna foods, it doesn’t complain about about uninvited guests. It plays well in the sandbox, and you rarely have to call its parents to come pick it up from school for bad behaviour. I have only good things to say about quinoa, even though it sometimes gets an undeservedly bad rap. And, bonus, it lasts well in the fridge for a good week, unadorned. Case closed. Eat your quinoa.

Polenta fries & dipping sauces

My new BFF, the Air Fryer, has been working a shocking amount of overtime lately. So much so that I’m expecting a call from the Air Fryer’s union any moment, complaining about my employment practices.

Harvey and I often use the Air Fryer three times a day. We might make hardboiled eggs for breakfast, marinated tofu for lunch (me, not Harvey – he’d rather stick forks in his eyes than eat tofu) and, well, dinner could be anything. We cook steaks, salmon and chicken in there, make grilled cheese sandwiches, reheat leftovers and cook veggies in it. The only thing I haven’t tried in there is desserts. And cocktails. Stay tuned. I’m embarrassed to say, but our other appliances are exhibiting textbook signs of jealousy. No small wonder.

My newfound interest in cooking, coupled with our purchase of the Air Fryer, has opened up whole new vistas. The Air Fryer has inspired me to try recipes I never dreamed I’d try. For someone who could easily eat the same meal every day for a month, this is, quite frankly, a revelation.

Generally speaking, I’m the polar opposite of a culinary ambassador. I fit better into the “culinary misanthrope” or “culinary misfit” category. My father used to comment on my indiscriminate eating habits this way: “Shelley would eat out of a puddle.” It was true. As long as somebody else cooked it, I’d eat it. It didn’t matter what it was. But alas, the Air Fryer has lifted me to new heights. I now soar with the eagles and run with the wolves. I apologize for the hyperbole, but I’m so excited, I just can’t hide it. (Nor can the Pointer Sisters.)

So, as I was about to say, I’m constantly in search of new recipes I can incorporate into my Air Fryer repertoire. This week it was polenta fries. Polenta is boiled cornmeal that can be served as a hot porridge-like dish, or it can be allowed to cool and solidify into a loaf/log that can be baked, fried or grilled. I used the pre-cooked loaf/log version because it’s more versatile. It comes in regular and garlic basil flavour and can be purchased at most grocery stores. It’s often referred to as “tubed polenta.”

Having stumbled across numerous recipes for polenta fries, I decided to make it my new food project. I looked up its nutritional value and found that it’s a good source of fibre and protein, it’s gluten-free, rich in complex carbohydrates and antioxidants, low in fat and low in calories. Win-win all around. Polenta has a very convincing personality, especially when you pair it with some yummy dipping sauces.

AIR FRYER POLENTA FRIES
18-oz (500-gram) pre-cooked polenta log
pinch of salt and pepper
paprika (optional)
olive oil spray (or just use olive oil)

Cut the polenta log into french fry-slice pieces and put in a large bowl.
Spray the polenta fries with the olive oil spray or drizzle with olive oil to coat them all evenly. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and paprika (optional).
Place the polenta fries in the air fryer basket in a single layer, leaving space between them.
Bake at 380°F for 18 to 20 minutes, or 400°F for 10 to 14 minutes. Flip the fries halfway through cooking. The outside should be crispy and the inside will be sort of creamy.
Serve with your favourite dipping sauce. I made garlic aioli and lemon sauces, both of which were a big hit.

GARLIC AIOLI
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1 clove garlic minced
1 tbsp lemon juice
1/4 tsp kosher salt
2 tsp olive oil
1/4 tsp pepper

Mix all ingredients together in a small bowl and refrigerate at least 30 minutes before serving.

LEMON DIPPING SAUCE
1/2 cup mayonnaise
2 tbsp lemon juice
2 tsp finely grated lemon zest
1 tsp Dijon mustard
salt and pepper to taste

Mix all ingredients together in a small bowl and refrigerate for 30 minutes before serving.

MINT DRESSING
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice or lime juice
1/4 cup packed fresh mint leaves
3 tbsp honey or maple syrup
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 tsp fine sea salt
10 twists of freshly ground black pepper

In a food processor (or Magic Bullet), combine all of the ingredients and blend until smooth. Add more salt and/or pepper if necessary.

This dressing will keep well, covered and refrigerated, for up to one week. It’s thinner than the dips, but it’s delicious with everything – it’s great on salads, orzo, tomatoes and cucumber, with parmesan cheese, goat cheese or feta cheese.

While I’m on the topic of dips and sauces, I have to share one of my favourite and simplest recipes – lemon caper butter. I mostly use this on salmon but you could douse any fish in it and not regret it.

LEMON CAPER BUTTER
4 tbsp butter
1 clove garlic minced
2 tsp capers, drained (I always add more)
2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
1 tsp lemon zest
1-2 tsp chopped parsley
salt and pepper to taste

In a small saucepan melt butter over medium heat. Once the butter has melted, add the garlic, capers, lemon zest and lemon juice. Cook for two minutes, then season to taste with salt and pepper.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I can cook. I’m not ashamed to admit that there have been some culinary casualties over the years, but mostly I’ve managed to keep myself and Harvey well fed and out of the ER. And, irony of ironies, the pandemic has given me the opportunity and impetus to try new recipes and new foods, and for that I’m grateful. I’m also grateful for the plethora of restaurants that do takeout and delivery. Never underestimate the power of a great slice of thin crust pizza. Or Chinese food and a movie. No, wait. That’s what we do on Christmas. Now I’m confused. Or maybe I’m Confucius. Whatever. Bon appetit.

Decadent cocoa brownies

Cocoa powder brownies by Christi Johnstone of lovefromtheoven.com. (photo from lovefromtheoven.com)

And just like that…. I found myself sitting in the living room, clandestinely stuffing a four-inch square of decadent cocoa brownie in my mouth.

It was as though I’d been in a trance, eating on autopilot. But then I snapped to

attention, hearing noises coming from the other room, alerting me to the presence of an intruder (or my husband snoring in the bedroom). I needed to get rid of the cocoa-y evidence, pronto, before I got caught brown-handed. After all, it was 2 a.m. and I had no business eating a stimulant like that when I was already trapped in a spiral of insomnia. But there I was. At least I didn’t pair the brownie with, say, a tiny glass of Bailey’s. Or a hot chocolate. That would have been criminal. I do have some self-control. It might be measured in grams, but still.

The “intruder” stumbled out to use the bathroom just as I was shoving the last bit of evidence into my piehole. I narrowly escaped brownie-shaming by a nanosecond. This is all to say that I have a shameless sweet tooth – it knows no bounds, and certainly has no timelines. I’ve been caught on other occasions scarfing down Cheezies and chips before breakfast (OK … for breakfast). I’ve been castigated at 5:30 p.m. for eating chocolate pudding (it’s considered an appetizer, isn’t it?). I’ve had ice cream ripped from my very hands (alright, maybe not ripped, but forcefully grabbed) right before bed. I cop to it all. Mea culpa. I just can’t help myself.

On that note, I recently heard Dennis Prager, the well-known radio personality, share this pearl of wisdom: “It’s more important to have self-control than self-esteem.” Point taken. I freely admit that my self-control needs a little work, so I vow, right here, right now, to eat decadent cocoa brownies only during office hours. And, since I’m retired, that is open to interpretation. Consider shift work.

As for self-esteem, that’s between me and myself, and I mostly have a handle on it. But self-control affects every part of life and can lead to behaviours that are socially unacceptable, like outbursts of temper, for example. Again, mea culpa. Lack of self-control in overeating can lead to poor health outcomes, and that also needs watching. Personally, I’m guilty of watching from afar. I must get on that.

Being someone who is (luckily?) colon-less in Vancouver, I have the luxury of eating whatever I want and not gaining an ounce. The flip side of that is, well, you don’t want to know the flip side. Suffice it to say that I’ve been known to over-indulge in certain items that are not in Canada’s Food Guide recommendations. On a regular basis. OK, OK, I need to pay more attention to what I am putting in my mouth (otherwise it might fall on the floor or land in my lap).

For now, though, I’m going to share my guilty little secret and be done with it. That translates to: I gave three-quarters of the brownies I made to my niece and only kept a quarter of them for myself. Those of you who are truly observant will notice the reflexive singular pronoun. Used, in this instance, because my husband Harvey has been on a diet for 11 months and has lost 52 pounds. He would no more dream of eating a brownie right now than he would dream of going to a five-star resort in St. Lucia without me. Unless, of course, he was looking for wife number four. Plus, he likes to delegate the eating, so I’m taking one for the team. Alas, the brownies are all for me, and me for them. Eaten at three-hour intervals, it equates to about 1,000 calories per day. For my hips alone. Pure speculation, of course. But I’m willing to risk it.

What I know for certain is that a brownie recipe I recently found – by Christi Johnstone of lovefromtheoven.com – is the bomb. You’re welcome. For your own well-being, do not – I repeat, do not – get on your scale for at least a week after you’ve eaten these brownies. Consider yourself forewarned.

COCOA POWDER BROWNIES

10 tbsp melted butter or margarine
1 1/4 cup sugar (I use 1 cup brown sugar and 1/4 cup white sugar)
3/4 cup plus 2 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 large eggs1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup chocolate chips (optional)

Position your oven rack in the lower third of your oven. Preheat oven to 325°F degrees. Line an eight-inch square pan with parchment paper or just grease the pan.
Combine melted butter (or margarine), sugar, cocoa powder and salt in a large bowl. Allow to cool for five to 10 minutes. You don’t want it too hot when you add the eggs.
After mixture has cooled slightly, add vanilla and mix well. Add eggs, one at a time, and beat until well mixed.
In a separate bowl, combine flour and baking powder and stir to combine. Add the flour mixture to the batter and mix well to combine. If adding chocolate chips (optional), fold them into the batter.
Bake for 30-35 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out with some moist crumbs attached. Cool on a wire rack.

I won’t even pretend to give you a nutritional accounting of this amazing snack because, even if I did, you’d ignore it. On purpose. I suspect it’s shockingly unhealthy, but, in the grand scheme of things, so is watching too much TV. But does that stop us?

The thing about these brownies is that they’re not overly sweet, like some are. They’re just moist, soft, rich, cocoa-y goodness. I imagine that you could freeze them, but then, why would you want to? More to the point, why would you need to? They don’t last more than 14 hours in my home. On a good day. Less, if there’s milk in the fridge.

I have another fudge brownie recipe that’s also pretty special, but there’s so much sugar in it that it makes my teeth hurt. Not that that’s ever really been a deterrent for me. I love all my brownies the same.

Still waiting for knee surgery

I am not known for my patience. And I’ve been preparing for my long-awaited knee replacement surgery for nearly three years.

I’ve acquired all the necessary post-surgical equipment: expensive ice and compression machine, bath transfer bench, walker, crutches, cane, toilet riser, reacher, long-handled shoehorn, high density cushion, a chair with arms. I attended all the prehab and pre-surgery webinars, got my SPARC parking pass, watched all the recommended surgical and how-to videos (several times each), made a list of what to bring to the hospital and rescheduled a host of medical appointments and personal commitments. I even arranged to “foster” some of my furniture out to friends to clear the way for my anticipated post-surgical walker/crutches. I had meetings with the surgeon, pre-admission nurses, anesthesiologist, physiotherapists and an occupational therapist. I was more prepared for my surgery than Eisenhower was for D-Day. I repeat, I am not a patient woman.

Staff at Oasis (Osteoarthritis Service Integration System) and ASAP (Arthritis Surgical Assessment Program) are my new BFFs. They told me about assistlist.ca, a website that lists used medical equipment for sale. I learned that the Red Cross Health Equipment Loan program has become stricter about who it lends to. It used to be that everyone got their equipment there. Since COVID, anyone who wants to borrow from there has to sign a waiver explicitly disclosing their need for assistance. Luckily, I don’t need their services.

I’m armed with more resources than I know what to do with, so it just makes sense to share them. There are lots of medical supply stores, but the ones who have the greatest variety are Lancaster Medical on West Broadway and Macdonald’s Prescriptions (in the Fairmont building). Best place to buy high-density cushions (and any kind of foam) is Discount Foam on Fraser Street near 33rd. Need an ice/compression machine? Go to the source: ProCare Medical Inc. Just FYI, the Polar Care Wave machine combines the ice therapy and the compression that targets not only swelling but also pain. Apparently, it’s a must-have for knee replacement surgery.

If you have an extended medical plan, check to see what they cover, because this equipment can be expensive. Also check if they cover a private or semi-private hospital room. And don’t forget to get a doctor’s note indicating that you need this equipment for a knee or hip replacement, and include this with your extended health claim. My health carrier insisted that I buy from an actual medical supply store (not, say, Facebook Marketplace) and that the receipt indicate the source, and that my name be on the receipt. You might want to buy your equipment secondhand to save some money, but just remember that your extended health won’t cover it.

I learned that a high-density cushion, which I’ll need post-surgery, is not a benefit covered by my health plan. I also learned that, after knee replacement, all seating must be two inches higher than the top of my knee. That includes the toilet, the bed, all chairs and couches, and the car seat. Seriously, the logistics of preparing one’s home (and car) before surgery seem never-ending. Like making sure that everything you need on a daily basis is within counter-height reach. No squatting to get toilet paper out from under the sink – unless you have a reacher. No going to restaurants without your high-density cushion. No bending over to put on your socks. The list goes on. And on.

To say that I was ready for surgery would be this century’s understatement. Then I got COVID.

Don’t ask me how. It’s one of the world’s great mysteries. I am vaccinated five times. After intense speculation, the only culprits I can point to are either the physiotherapist appointment I had (both of us wearing KN-95 masks) or an elevator (me masked, of course).

It was a Friday morning and I just thought my allergies were acting up. Or maybe I’d been mouth-breathing at night – slight sore throat, stuffy nose, tired, a bit of a dry cough and a headache. Minor stuff. Until I did a COVID rapid home test. I tested positive. I immediately called the urgent care clinic and got a PCR test, phoned my gastroenterologist and proactively got a prescription for the antiviral medication Paxlovid, and waited. Less than 24 hours later, when positivity was confirmed, I started on the medication and was better in five days. My surgery was scheduled for four weeks later – and this was a problem, as I will explain.

I want to make one thing clear. I do not blame my orthopedic surgeon or the anesthesiologist for my knee replacement surgery being postponed three times. I do blame COVID. I do blame miscommunication. And I definitely blame an over-burdened healthcare system. Primarily, the latter.

My husband and I have been crazy cautious and isolating like nobody’s business during the pandemic. The wild card is that I’m immunocompromised, so I’m at higher risk for any kind of infection. But nobody has been more careful than us. In fact, I’m pretty sure I spent more money on KN-95 facemasks, latex gloves and hand sanitizer in the past two-and-a-half years than I have on clothing. By a long shot. Until this point, we went nowhere, saw no one and did nothing. But, as COVID eased up a bit during the summer, so did we. But incrementally. Literally by centimetres. I met a few friends for dinner outside. We traveled to Victoria for four days. Wild and crazy stuff by all accounts.

Having just been told for the third time that my surgery would be postponed, I was devastated. It had to do with a seven-week waiting period post-COVID before getting an anesthetic or surgery, because of the risk of blood clots and pneumonia. Immunocompromised … blah, blah, blah.

All this is to say that I should have listened to a wise woman long ago, who advised that I “get comfortable with uncertainty.” Umm, OK. How exactly do I do that? Apparently, you breathe. And wait. And breathe. And practise mindful meditation. Maybe get a little anxious. Breathe some more. Meditate. Eat. Maybe get a bit more anxious. Breathe. Wait some more. I’m now an expert breather.

The only thing that helps me is holding firm to my belief that nothing happens by accident. Everything happens for a reason. Usually one to which I am not privy. But still. Enter faith and trust – stage right, stage left, stage centre. That’s really my only life raft. Luckily, it’s sturdy and solid and mine for the taking. Anytime, anywhere. Now that’s what I need to practise. Oh yeah, and breathing. Meanwhile, I’ll continue cooking and eating. Stay tuned.

Earn Frequent Fryer points

Mouthwatering air fryer chicken satay with peanut sauce. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

My father, alav hashalom, used to use the Yiddish phrase “Don’t hock me a tscheynik,” meaning, literally, don’t bang my teakettle. But, idiomatically, it means don’t bother me with nonsense. My husband Harvey has been hocking me a tscheynik for months now, in the hope that he’ll wear me down and I’ll finally give him the OK to buy an air fryer. Vos air fryer? Whenever people said air fryer, it conjured up a deep fryer filled with greasy doughnuts floating on the top. Or fatty chicken served with waffles, south of the border. It was about as appealing as an oozing wound.

I didn’t know from air fryers. But then my nephew and his wife got one, and regularly post pictures of the mouthwateringly delectable dinners they produce in their newfangled appliance. Still, I was not sold on the idea. While our apartment is a good size, our kitchen was designed for someone who’s culinarily challenged, petite in stature and not in favour of wasting space. Or, for someone like the character of Carrie Bradshaw, from Sex and the City, who only uses her oven to store sweaters. In short, it’s a galley kitchen that only fits two people, if you turn sideways and suck in your stomach. Our counter space is almost non-existent, yet we’ve managed to find a home for a Nespresso machine, waffle maker, Breville toaster oven, Breville blender and two Henckels knife blocks. I can barely fit a Vitamin C tablet on the remaining space. Still, Harvey thinks we can’t live (or at least not live well) without an air fryer.

After months of fighting him on this, I finally relented. Harvey did his due diligence, researched all air fryers known to man (and woman), then snuck out in the dead of night (notice how I made that all dramatic) and bought one. We got the Instant Vortex six-quart air fryer, which is big enough to hold a smart car. Or a baby buffalo.

As you can imagine, we had to make room for it on our aforementioned miniscule counter. The waffle maker now lives in the closet. The Nespresso machine has taken up residence in the liquor cabinet. And the Breville blender now cohabits with the Henckels Dutch oven under the butcher block. Our little family of appliances resembles a group home for wanton, headstrong youth. But still, we love them all the same.

A week has passed since we installed the air fryer into our humble abode and, well, it’s sheer bliss. I never knew it could be like this. So far, Harvey has made baked chicken thighs, carrots and broccoli, hardboiled eggs, potato wedges and hamburgers. All of which passed with flying (frying) colours, except, I’m sorry to say, the broccoli. It was a stringy, hard mess. The air fryer was literally begging us (OK, so I’m anthropomorphizing) for overtime – or at least a day off.

So, does this make us Frequent Fryers?

Meanwhile I’ve been Googling recipes for air fryer eggplant, tofu (Harvey would rather eat nails) and teriyaki salmon. Then, inspiration struck like yummy lightning – I found a bunch of mouthwatering recipes for air fryer chicken satay with peanut sauce. The deal was sealed. Note that, up to this point in time, I had not so much as touched our new appliance. I’d read the owner’s manual a dozen times though. Not wanting to challenge myself too much – you know, performance anxiety, fear of failure – I glommed onto the easiest, most appealing recipe I could find (credit goes to “Damn Delicious”). You’re welcome.

CHICKEN SATAY WITH PEANUT SAUCE

1/4 cup coconut milk
2 tbsp reduced sodium soy sauce
2 1/2 tsp yellow curry powder (I omitted this)
1 1/2 tsp turmeric
3/4 tsp cumin
3 cloves garlic, minced (I used 2 cloves)
1 tbsp freshly grated ginger
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 tbsp fish sauce (I omitted this)
2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs or breasts cut into 1-inch cubes
1 tbsp canola oil (I used olive oil instead)
kosher salt and ground black pepper, to taste
rice vermicelli noodles

for the peanut sauce:
3 tbsp creamy peanut butter
1 tbsp reduced sodium soy sauce
1 tbsp freshly squeezed lime juice
2 tsp brown sugar
2 tsp chili garlic sauce (I used 1 clove garlic, minced instead)
1 tsp freshly grated ginger

To make the peanut sauce, whisk together peanut butter, soy sauce, lime juice, brown sugar, chili garlic sauce (or minced garlic) and ginger in a small bowl. Whisk in two to three tablespoons water (I used coconut milk) until desired consistency is reached. Set aside in the fridge.
In a medium bowl, combine coconut milk, soy sauce, curry powder (optional), oil, salt, pepper, turmeric, garlic, ginger, brown sugar and fish sauce (optional).
In a large Ziploc bag or large bowl, combine chicken and coconut milk mixture, and marinate for at least two hours to overnight, stirring the mixture occasionally.
Make some rice vermicelli noodles, rinse, drain and let them cool in the fridge.
Soak bamboo skewers in water for 30 minutes before using.
Drain the chicken from the marinade, discarding the marinade.
Preheat the air fryer to 385°F for 12 to 14 minutes, or maybe a couple of minutes longer, depending on the wattage of your air fryer.
Thread the chicken somewhat loosely onto the soaked skewers – don’t jam them together or they won’t cook evenly.
Place the skewers into the air fryer basket, leaving room between each skewer. You may have to do a couple of batches to accommodate them all.
Bake for six to seven minutes, then turn the skewers over and bake for another six to seven minutes, until they reach an internal temperature of 165°F.
Serve immediately with peanut sauce over a bed of rice vermicelli noodles. Garnish with thinly sliced green onion or cilantro, and crushed peanuts.

To say that this meal was a success would be a gross understatement. In fact, I think Harvey proposed to me all over again. Then he offered to buy me a new computer. And a car. Perhaps the exhilaration of this delicious meal has gone to my head. Maybe he just said, “Thanks, it was delicious!” I can’t be sure. But my bet is on a new car.

Hitting the high seas & citrus

Who among us enjoys using a 400°F oven during the summer? That would be: Nobody. Ever. For me, summer is synonymous with barbecuing, which is first cousin to steak, hamburgers, chicken and grilled veggies.

Recently introduced to tuna steaks, I’ve now gone over to the light side. On a recent trip to Victoria, good friends had us over for dinner and served one of the best meals we’ve eaten in years. While most of the component parts were healthy, some were deliciously questionable, in terms of caloric heft (see lemon mousse below). The star of the meal, by a long shot, however, was the marinated tuna steak, grilled on the barbecue. Even though it was more well done than I prefer, it was still juicy, incredibly flavourful and tender. I like my tuna steak with grill marks on the outside and pink rareness on the inside. Most good fish restaurants serve it like that. Despite the variance in preferences, our friend cooked it to perfection. As with all good things, I like to share my enjoyment with others. So, you’re welcome.

You can buy frozen tuna steaks at lots of stores. Fresh is even better, but not always available. For your culinary edification, did you know that Pacific bluefin tuna are approximately five feet long and weigh about 130 pounds? (Think: that’s bigger than me!) Apparently, the world record for the largest bluefin tuna caught was set in Nova Scotia in 1979. It weighed in at a whopping 1,496 pounds. How do you even land something like that? It’s like the Tuna That Ate New York. The tuna we had was cut into petite steaks of about five inches by three inches, and was one-inch-thick perfection.

MARINATED TUNA STEAKS
(serves 4)

4 4-ounce tuna steaks
1/4 cup orange juice
1/4 cup soy sauce
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp lemon juice
2 tbsp chopped fresh parsley
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 tsp chopped fresh oregano
1/2 tsp ground black pepper
salt to taste

In a large non-reactive dish (does this mean it’s even-tempered?), mix together the orange juice, soy sauce, olive oil, lemon juice, parsley, garlic, oregano and pepper. Place the tuna steaks in the marinade and turn it over to coat. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. Bring to room temperature before grilling/frying. Preheat grill at high heat, or pan sear on high in a frying pan.

Lightly oil grill grate or frying pan. Cook the tuna steaks for approximately five minutes, then turn and baste with the marinade. Cook for an additional five minutes, or to desired doneness. I’ve read recipes that call for as little as a 45-second-per-side cooking time, so, use your own discretion. Discard any remaining marinade.

Serve it up with a side of guacamango salad (see below), and you’re sure to get a thank you note. Add some tri-coloured baby new potatoes and, voila, just like that, your guests/partner/pets will think you’re Julia Child!

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I can cook and not give people E. coli. I have been known to give my husband and I food poisoning from bad lamb. In my defence, it was a full moon and I was unsupervised. I’ve also been known to accidentally coat snapper in icing sugar instead of flour. Because Harvey and I were in our “courting” phase, he ate it nonetheless. I went out for takeout sushi. This is one of Harvey’s favourite stories. Mostly, I just cook stuff that it’s humanly impossible to screw up. Or, I let Harvey cook and, since he thinks that cooking is like doing a chemistry experiment, I say, knock yourself out Science Guy.

Never heard of my newly created gaucamango salad? Feast your tastebuds.

SHELLEY’S GUACAMANGO SALAD

2 large, ripe Ataulfo mangoes, diced
2 large, ripe avocados, diced
lime juice, to taste
olive oil
fresh mint, chopped roughly
blueberries (optional)

Mix all the ingredients together and tell me this isn’t the freshest-tasting summer salad you’ve ever eaten. Just try me.

As I’ve told you before, this accidental balabusta puts a premium on fast, easy meals, especially during the summer months. And, preferably, recipes that call for fewer than six ingredients, including spices. However, I made an exception for the lemon mousse, which breaches my boundaries for both patience and level of patchkerey. But, man, is it worth it! I usually never try recipes that involve separating eggs, because, well … it’s just dicey. Add in the double boiler element and we’re moving precariously into Ina Garten territory. But my friend’s rendition of this was just so darn good, I couldn’t not try it. If you’re a lemon lover, you won’t be disappointed. If you’re a sourpuss, you also won’t be disappointed.

LEMON MOUSSE DESSERT

2 lemons
1 pouch gelatin powder
4 eggs (separated)
60 grams (or 4 3/4 tbsp) sugar
1 pinch of salt
250 grams (or 1 cup) whipping cream

Wash the lemons. Zest the peel of one lemon and set it aside. Squeeze the juice of both lemons and set it aside.

Separate the eggs. Whisk sugar into the egg yolks.

In a double boiler, heat the egg yolk/sugar mixture and whisk continuously until very hot (but not boiling). If you’re like me and don’t own a double boiler, just set a bowl on top of a pot of hot water instead.

Slowly whisk in the gelatin powder, then add the lemon juice and zest. Put mixture into the fridge to cool, whisking occasionally.

Beat the egg whites with a pinch of salt until firm. Beat the whipping cream.

Once egg yolk/lemon mixture is cooled, gently mix in the egg whites and whipping cream until just combined. Pour into a glass serving bowl for a pretty presentation. Chill in the fridge for a few hours and then garnish with raspberries on top.

This dessert is both fluffy and light, despite all the whipping cream. And the lemon zest gives the richness a welcome bit of texture and zhuzh. This lemon mousse is a spectacular, tart addition to any meal, plus it looks über impressive. Go ahead, boldly go where no accidental balabusta has gone before. Until now. B’tayavon!

May the force be with you

In my world, you can never have enough lamb. Or, to be more specific, lamb shanks. It used to be what I called “fancy food,” for which I splurged only on special occasions, like New Year’s Eve, or a birthday ending in zero. But since the pandemic started, up is down and right is left, and every day that you’re healthy is a day that’s meant to be celebrated. Goodness knows we could all use a little splurging. So, hubby Harvey sold a kidney and bought five pounds of lamb shanks. Lest you think we’re complete chazers, let me add that we had another couple over for dinner. For the first time in two-and-a-half years.

After two years of strict isolation and adherence to Dr. Bonnie Henry’s pandemic protocols, it was a wondrous event, to be sitting less than six feet away from two close friends, masks discarded, acting as though we did this every day. There wasn’t a shred of anxiety anywhere to be seen, and it just felt so normal. To say I felt ridiculously elated and grateful at the same time would not be an exaggeration. It was pure joy. I wondered why we hadn’t done it sooner. And then I remembered … that pesky pandemic. Oh, and my COVID anxiety, which can often be seen from space.

But back to the main event. The lamb. I’d sent Harvey to the butcher to pick up the lamb and, when he returned home, he handed me the bag-o-meat. Which weighed nearly as much as me. I asked him: “So did they throw in a ram for free?” To which he replied: “I told them I wanted the biggest lamb shanks they had.” Long story short, each shank was the size of a small country. Maybe slightly bigger. All of a sudden, my four hours of estimated cooking time was looking more like half a day. Luckily, I’m an early riser.

I hauled out my biggest roaster, proceeded to dirty every fry pan, pot and utensil in the apartment – we’re talking squeezers, mincers, graters, peelers, a multitude of various-sized knives, cutting boards and a healthy shot of Scotch (just kidding about the Scotch, but after it was all said and done, I sure could’ve used a glass) – and had at it.

The recipe, which Harvey found on the internet, is called Tom Valenti’s Lamb Shanks, and it’s spectacular! I won’t bore you with the details – Google it. Never mind that it calls for a bottle of wine, four cups of broth and a whole whack of other stuff. When it was all assembled, I couldn’t even lift the roaster, never mind take it in and out of the oven every 30 minutes for the next five hours. I happily handed over the reins to Harvey to do the heavy lifting. While I sat around and ate bonbons. Not.

All modesty aside, the lamb shanks were a huge hit. But, I was left with cups and cups of gorgeous, rich, winey braising liquid, flavoured with onions, carrots, celery, garlic and thyme, to name just a few of the players. I actually considered drinking it. Is that wrong? Of course, the thyme sprigs might get caught in my teeth.

So, I did what any self-respecting 21st-century cook with a few gallons of leftover braising liquid would do – I Googled it. Which is where I found an article by Mackenzie Stratton in The Spruce Eats, called “What to do with leftover braising liquid.” Imagine that. I learned many things, like the fact that chefs often refer to braising liquid as “liquid gold” because of its ability to transform whatever it touches into something fabulous.

I know some of you will wonder why I bothered keeping the seemingly useless flotsam and jetsam of a meal. It’s because I hate throwing stuff out that I could possibly use. Operative word here is “possibly.” My father, alav ha-shalom, always used to rib me about how thrifty I am. He’s right. I hate to waste food and, if I can repurpose it, why the heck not? When I told Harvey my plans for the braising liquid, he informed me that the army used to call that a “force multiplier.” May the force be with you, too.

If Mackenzie Stratton is to be believed, you can elevate just about any dish with leftover braising “gold.” But first you have to let the “gold” cool overnight in the fridge, then skim off the fat from the top. You’ll be left with a lovely (?) gelatinous bowl of the aforementioned “gold.” Next step requires you to sacrifice your ice cube trays. Fill each one with a big glob of “gold,” freeze them, and then put the nuggets in a Ziploc baggie or in small containers for future use. This is where the “gold” comes in, because at $16 to $18 a bottle for the wine and another $60 for the lamb and the rest of the ingredients, it’s not something you relish throwing down the sink once everyone’s had a good burp.

What all can you do with these little brown, gelatinous gems? You can incorporate them into other recipes, like soups, pasta or grain dishes; use them to poach chicken or tougher cuts of meat; or put them in stews. You can also use them as the supreme weapon of decadence: boil potatoes in the thawed braising liquid, then turn them into the ultimate side of mashed potatoes. I have no words. The drool is dribbling down my chin.

I usually like to include a photo of my culinary creations/discoveries and, well, not to be crass or anything, but Harvey says these “gold” blobs look like something people pick up with those little green baggies on their hand. Need I say more? Now just try and un-see that visual.

Like the thrifty Accidental Balabusta that I am, you might just be on the receiving end of my leftover braising “gold” next time you come for dinner. But you won’t know it. To paraphrase John F. Kennedy: ask not what your lamb shanks can do for you – ask what you can do for your lamb shanks.

Once again, you’re welcome. Bon appetit!

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.