Another Charlie update. Here, he’s sleeping in his favorite cat bed on a rocking chair. But, unlike most cats who tend to curl up when sleeping in a cat bed, Charlie seems to just drip out of the bed, all arms and legs hanging as well as his head. He’s a clown and we love him dearly.
Rosalie and I were reminiscing about the kinds of things we cooked and ate when we were first married. Naturally, one of the things we remembered was the old Chef Boyardee pizza kit. Back in the early sixties, one couldn’t find pizza just anywhere, especially not in the Midwest. And we didn’t know about all the things available today in pizzas. Back then, we rolled out the dough, put on the tomato sauce and parmesan cheese, and I think we sprinkled on browned hamburger. And away we went. Homemade Midwestern pizza.
That memory led to others. We’d buy a whole chicken, cut it up, fry it, and then eat the whole damn thing, just the two of us. I guess chickens then must have been smaller than the ones I now see in the store. Or maybe we were just gluttonous pigs in our youth. Back then, you could still buy chicken gizzards in a small carton. I don’t know if modern chickens no longer have gizzards or if the markets are grinding them up for some other chicken delight. In any case, they don’t seem to be for sale anymore. Also, back then, we didn’t worry too much about calories or fat content. So a good many meals consisted of a cream sauce with all sorts of things added (one at a time, not all together): chipped beef, tuna, hard cooked eggs, browned hamburger (the old army SOS), cheese, chicken chunks, ham, Spam, bologna, assorted veggies. The sauced stuff could then go on toast or crackers or mashed potatoes or egg noodles. The list seems almost endless. Cream sauce, the wonder ingredient that led to hardened arteries. I even once tried my hand at a soufflé. I can’t remember how I did it or what else went into it besides the eggs. It must not have been very memorable since I tried it only once. Ah, the memories.