Jerryism #1

Jerry has a brilliant mind... 

It just doesn't always connect with his mouth.

Jerryisms.  Malapropisms.  Fractured American idioms.  I've thought of putting together a book of Jerry's most entertaining verbal fumbles.

"IF YOU COME TO A FORK IN THE ROAD, TAKE IT." — Yogi Berra

When commenting on my last post, which touched on American idioms, an old friend reminded me of a Jerryism that still gives her a chuckle nearly twenty years later.  So, I've decided to share it as the first in a series of random Jerryisms.

GET ALL YOUR DUCKS IN A ROW.

When Jerry was with Yale University, he was invited to give a talk at the Princeton Club in New York.  We drove down from New Haven and spent a few days in the city.  Jerry gave a talk on the future of research libraries, library automation, technology in the workplace, organizational management, change management, self-managing teams, or some other equally scintillating topic.

COVER ALL BASES.

JERRYISM #1
During Jerry's talk, he said:

"Before you get in too deep, make sure you have all your ducks covered."

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A Fat Chance and a Slim Chance: Same Thing

AND SKATING ON THIN ICE CAN GET YOU IN HOT WATER

I'm spending a lot of time lately thinking about language.  Too much time thinking and not enough time practicing.  I can't wait to understand Spanish well enough to be able to make fun of its inconsistencies.  For now, I'll just continue to make fun of English.

The Los Angeles Spanish Consulate provides the visa application in both Spanish and English.  But, if we fill out the English version, it looks like we have to then have it professionally translated back into  Spanish.  Hmmm.  So, we're just going to set the English and Spanish forms side by side and then fill out the Spanish one.

NOT THE KIND OF TRANSLATOR WE NEED.

We have all our required documents in hand and they are now being translated by a certified translator, as required by the L.A. Consulate.  That includes our FBI letters, marriage certificate, domestic partnership certificate, retirement income statements, SSI income statement, medical statements, and any apostiles.  We should have all translations in hand by Monday.  The only outstanding items, pre-interview, are our photographs.  I think we should get haircuts first.  And definitely shave; we've both become kind of lazy about shaving since retirement.  The plan is to drive up to Los Angeles next week for our interview at the Spanish Consulate.

WE BOTH NEED A SHAVE AND A HAIRCUT...

We'd love to be in Spain by the end of May, but it's probably unrealistic to expect that we'll have our visas and enough time to make plane reservations.  If we are, however, in Spain by the end of May, we get to head up to Bergen, Norway, for our cousin's wedding.  That would be a joy.

BERGEN.  BEAUTIFUL... EVEN IN THE RAIN.

I almost forgot to mention our "stuff."  We have been going through it, tossing it out, selling it, and giving it away.  It's sometimes difficult to part with something, but once a decision is made, we've had no regrets.  It sure feels great to unburden ourselves of so many unnecessary possessions.

18" PLATTER FORM BY GLASS ARTIST IRA SAPIR.

The art glass, however, continues to present a challenge.  We'd now like to donate it, but haven't figured out how or where.  It is not the retirement nest egg it was cracked up to be.  (No pun intended.)

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Our First Home-Cooked Authentic Spanish Meal ... In Irvine, California

Espinaca con garbanzos.  We loved it in Spain and Jerry successfully reproduced it Wednesday night in Irvine.

ESPINACA CON GARBANZOS A LA JERRY.

While we were still in Spain, Jerry searched a few bookstores in Sevilla, Jerez de la Frontera, and Málaga but was unable to find an English-language cookbook filled with all the great Spanish dishes we had sampled, including espinaca con garbanzos.  So, when we got home he did some research and I then went on Amazon and ordered "The New Spanish Table" by Anya von Bremzen.  It arrived Tuesday and Jerry immediately went to work.

SALMON CON HABAS Y HINOJO, Y ESPINACAS CON GARBANZOS

The fragrances from our kitchen brought me back to Andalucía.  In addition to the spinach and garbanzos, Jerry broiled salmon that had to be the best salmon I've ever tasted.  The dish was called "salmon con habas y hinojo" (salmon with beans and fennel).  Jerry used soy beans (edamame) instead of fava beans — because he couldn't find fava beans.  That was fine with me.  I don't mind fava beans, but I love soy beans.

CAZUELAS.  MAYBE JUST FOUR FOR STARTERS.

He's now looking for cazuelas, the terra cotta dishes and covered casseroles used in Spanish cooking.  Of course, Jerry will want several cazuelas and he'll want a variety of sizes.  But he agreed that he would wait until we're in Spain to purchase them.  No need to buy them here and ship them there... although I'm sure he's already being driven crazy with the waiting.

NOT A VERY RESTFUL NIGHT.

We're supposed to be at Disneyland for the day.  It's only 15 minutes from home — so close we can hear the nightly fireworks.  But we ate a lot of garlic last night... And we ate really late... And we ate way too much.  Neither of us got much sleep.  (Garlic and overindulging.)  So instead of Disneyland, we went to Peet's for coffee and the newspapers, and we then went back to bed.  Jerry didn't even have a pastry at Peet's.  So, you know it was a bad morning.

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Kraft Macaroni and Cheese

OR WHY I DON'T COOK, PART 2

NOT ME.

Even after the shrimp scampi disaster, Jerry was still not convinced that taking turns cooking was a bad idea.  Looking back, I'm not quite sure who this guy was.  Certainly not the same person who 10 years later would have an all-out panic attack and need to phone Yale University Urgent Care twice when he realized he had eaten a farm-fresh green bean that might have touched another green bean that might have had a tiny bit of white mold on it before it was washed.  How could this same person not be a little concerned about being fed shrimp or clams by the likes of me?

I NEVER SERVED ANYTHING THAT LOOKED LIKED THIS.

So, the next weekend, Jerry came over to my apartment on Worcester Square for my standard fare.  Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.  I was very skilled.  I had been cooking Kraft Macaroni and Cheese since the days you could buy five boxes for a dollar at the supermarket.  During my college years, my gourmet touch was to add a cut-up boiled hot dog.  I then graduated to Bacos, those mostly chemical bacon-flavored bits.  Before long, I was proudly preparing my bacon bits "from scratch."  No more fake bits for me.  I fried up bacon in a pan until it was crispy, placed it on a paper towel to soak up the remaining grease, and I then folded over the paper towel and crushed, by hand, the bacon into bits — which I then had to carefully pick out of the paper towel fibers.  I will never be mistaken for Julia Child.

FRESH BACON.  FOR THAT GOURMET TOUCH.

Something I didn't mention when I told you about my vast experience cooking and eating Kraft Macaroni and Cheese was that I always cooked one entire box for myself, even though the box read "serves four."  Also, I never bothered serving it up on a plate or bowl.  I stirred the packet of powdered imitation cheese, the stick of butter, and the quarter-cup of milk right into the 4-quart saucepan I had used to cook the pasta.  I then stood over the stove with a large spoon and ate it while it was hot — directly from the 4-quart saucepan.

Jerry had told me to just do what I always did.  But I realized there were limits.  I cooked up two boxes at once in that same 4-quart saucepan.  I stirred in my gourmet bacon bits.  And I then split the contents of the pot onto two dinner plates.  In hindsight, a sprig of parsley might have been a nice touch.

The macaroni and cheese was no longer steaming hot, which disappointed me, by the time I carried the plates to the table.  We sat down and placed our paper napkins (Jerry owned cloth ones) on our laps.  Jerry slipped his fork into the large yellow mound on his plate intending to come back with a forkful of macaroni and cheese.  Instead, the entire mound moved as one unit.  The macaroni and cheese had cooled and hardened into a plastic-like mountain.

"I usually eat it right from the pot," I explained.

We grabbed the car keys and headed over to Boylston Street for a decent dinner at By George.  Now, Jerry cooks and I clean up.

THE FIRST THING  I WOULD BUY WHEN
JERRY WOULD TRAVEL ON BUSINESS.

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Shrimp Scampi, Broccoli, and Baked Stuffed Clams

OR WHY I DON'T COOK, PART 1

“We should take turns cooking.  One weekend, you cook for us at your apartment and the next weekend, I’ll cook for us at mine.”

Jerry and I had been dating for perhaps a month when he had what he insisted was a brilliant idea.  I tried to explain to him that I did not cook.  I tried to make him understand that my idea of a gourmet meal was Kraft Macaroni and Cheese with freshly crumbled bacon (none of those bacon bits from a jar in MY kitchen).  But, he wouldn’t listen.  I think he just couldn’t believe that anyone could be that disinterested, or unskilled, in the culinary arts. 

COPLEY SQUARE, BOSTON.

So, it was Friday and it was my turn. Jerry was picking me up after work and we were going grocery shopping.  I had no idea what I was cooking.  I figured Kraft Macaroni and Cheese was not an option since Jerry had cooked some highbrow chicken (in a homemade sauce and everything) the week before.

My best friend, Brian, was the bar manager at a local Boston restaurant called Ken’s By George (known as “By George” to differentiate it from Ken’s deli upstairs).  It was right across the street from Copley Square.  I drank most of my lunches there and quite often stopped off for a drink — or three — after work.

I figured I’d get suggestions from Brian.  But, he wasn’t any better in the kitchen than I was.  He had once tried to bake cupcakes.  He bought a cupcake pan and the paper cupcake cups, but he didn’t use the cups because he was afraid they would catch fire in the oven.

CUPCAKES A LA BRIAN.  WHAT WAS I THINKING?

Another regular at By George, Barbara, was at the bar and she told me she loved to cook.

“Shrimp scampi,” she proclaimed.

“Barbara, I need something easy,” I groaned.

SHRIMP SCAMPI.  IT COULDN'T BE EASIER.

“It couldn’t be easier! All you need are some really nice jumbo shrimps, garlic, and butter.  Melt some butter in the pan, add a clove of garlic, and drop in the shrimp.  They don’t even take two minutes to cook.  If you cook them too long, they’ll get rubbery.  If you want to really impress him, butterfly the shrimp.  They’ll look beautiful.  Serve it with some broccoli on the side.  A couple of wedges of lemon.  I’m telling you.  It’s so easy and he won't know what hit him.”

So, shrimp scampi it would be.  Jerry picked me up after work and we drove over to Safeway on Boylston Street.  I bought a pound of jumbo shrimp for $10.95.  Big money in 1981.  Jerry was very impressed.  I picked out some fresh broccoli and a package of frozen, baked stuffed clams.  I had cooked broccoli in the past and the baked stuffed clams came with instructions.  Just pop them in the oven.

WORCESTER SQUARE.  WITH SOME OF BOSTON'S FINEST KITCHENS.

We headed to my apartment on Worcester Square.  Jerry took his briefcase into the living room to do some work and I headed to the kitchen to work some magic.

I lined up all the ingredients on my kitchen counter.  I preheated the oven to 300 degrees and put the baked stuffed clams on a cookie sheet, carefully sliding them into the oven.  I put some water up for a boil and dumped in the broccoli.

GARLIC IN WHOLE & IN PARTS.

I then went to work on the garlic.  Now, I already knew at the time the difference between a head and a clove of garlic.  I wasn’t a complete novice.  I pulled away a clove and began to peel.  I peeled away one layer after another until there was no garlic remaining in my hand.  This was an indication to me that I had gone too far.  I went to work on another clove of garlic, this time stopping my peeling after the first paper-like layer came away.  I chopped up what remained and threw it in the pan with some butter.  Maybe a little too much butter.

I washed the shrimp.  They were beautiful.  I decided I would go all out and butterfly the shrimp.  I was determined to impress.  So, I dropped the first jumbo shrimp on the kitchen counter, hefted my knife, and realized I had no clue how to butterfly a shrimp.  Barbara was so matter-of-fact about it that I didn’t think to ask.

But, I’m an artist.  A visual person.  I could figure this out.  I flipped the shrimp back and forth a couple of times and determined the obvious way to slice a shrimp to make it look like a butterfly.  I placed the blade of the knife into the shrimp and pressed.  Nothing.  My knife was not sharp enough to cut into the meaty jumbo shrimp.  I would have tried another knife — I had three others — but they were identical to the one in my hand.  I had purchased the set one Saturday a couple of years earlier at the Aqueduct Park flea market.  They were a great deal.  The set of four wood-handled steak knives cost me only $1.  I now knew why.

Meanwhile, the broccoli was boiling away on the stove.  I turned down the heat.

IT'S AMAZING WHAT A SHARP KNIFE CAN DO.

The baked stuffed clams were beginning to smoke, so I frantically dragged them from the oven, grabbed a hot pad, and ran into the living room.  I tossed the hot pad and the cookie sheet of baked stuffed clams onto the coffee table in front of Jerry and ran out of the room.

“Wait.  Wait,” called Jerry.  “Sit down and have some with me.”

 “No time!” I hollered back.

He followed me into the kitchen with the cookie sheet and told me to just place the clams back in the oven on warm until I was ready to join him.

Fine.

The garlic and butter sizzled in the pan and I went back to work on my first butterfly.

I could get the knife to cut into the shrimp if I sawed quickly back and forth.  I hacked into the shrimp as much as I could and then tore it apart with my fingers to produce a rough-edged butterfly.  I did the same with the remaining shrimp and then threw them all in the pan.

I cooked them the two minutes Barbara had instructed and was about to remove them from the pan onto our two plates when I became concerned.  What if I undercooked them?  Couldn’t you die from undercooked seafood?  I left them in the pan a couple of minutes longer just in case.

I then dished up the shrimp and the broccoli.  The broccoli was gray-green.  It was too mushy to spear with the fork, so I had to scoop it out of the pan and onto our plates.

I then remembered the baked stuffed clams that had been warming in the oven.  I pulled out the cookie sheet, grabbed the hot pad, and carried them back out to Jerry.  This time, I placed them in the center of the dining room table as a side dish for our shrimp scampi.

I brought out the two plates of shrimp and broccoli and we sat down — Jerry excitedly — to dine.

We each took a baked stuffed clam and used our forks to scoop out the extremely dry and crusty filling.  It had definitely baked and then warmed way too long.

“This is fine,” said Jerry as he reached for his water glass.

Next, the broccoli.  It was slimy.  And mostly gray.

“I cooked it too long,” I commented.

“No, it’s good.  This is how my mother always made it.”

And then the shrimp.

I hacked off a bite-size piece with my 25-cent steak knife.  I pressed into my plate to make sure the shrimp was securely on my fork.

It bounced.

I had overcooked the shrimp.  And, just as Barbara warned, it was rubbery.  Not just rubbery.  I had cooked up a batch of Superballs at $10.95 a pound.

“This is good,” mumbled Jerry as he gnawed away at his butterfly scampi Superball.

“No, this is not good,” I said.  “I told you I don’t cook.  Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.  That’s what I make.”

I was grateful to now be off the hook.

“So, next time, that’s what we’ll have,” he said as he smiled.  “I love Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.”

Still to come:  “Kraft Macaroni and Cheese — or — Why I Don’t Cook, Part 2”

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Connecting The Dots My Own Way

I am retired.  I don't know if the Wall Street Journal would agree.  They might say I'm unemployed or that I've closed a business due to difficult economic times.  (I myself have been saying that for months now.)  But, Jerry has convinced me.  He's retired and I'm retired.

THE CAKE.  THE LIBRARY HOSTED A GREAT PARTY FOR JERRY (& HONORED ME, TOO)

I had no doubts that Jerry had retired.  Pension, social security, and everything else.  Even the Wall Street Journal would have no doubts about the fact that Jerry had retired.  Anyway, I always made it clear that when Jerry retired I would retire. I wanted him to retire a long time ago, so I could retire before the age of 40.  He didn't listen.

CONNECTING THE DOTS ... SPAIN

Just to be clear.  I love the idea of retirement.  I just also love the idea of retirement income.  And I always felt the two should go together.  Thankfully, Jerry has the retirement income for us both... and is old enough to collect it.  So, I'll say it again... with feeling: I'M RETIRED.  (Because Jerry was ready to bean me yesterday when I said yet again that HE was retired and I was simply out of business.)

BUT I'M STILL WORKING

ToldemArt GENUINE ALLIGATOR TIE.
FOR THOSE WHO STILL WORK.

I submitted a story to a writing contest yesterday.  Publication ... and a nice cash prize are the rewards.  I added more products to my zazzle.com/toldemart store.  Creating the designs is pure fun for me and I continue to enjoy domestic and international sales — good for my ego (although they don't cover a utility bill).  So, I guess I'm still qualifying my retirement with the idea that I perhaps can earn a bit here and there.  But, that's really all simply for fun...

... Until my best-seller gets published and I begin my book tour.  I can't wait for it to be translated into Spanish so I won't have to spend as much time on the road. 

Because I am retired.

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