Well, maybe not entirely, content; Moon
just poked her wet nose underneath my arm to see what I was up to and whether it involved food. She was half right.There are several prospects for the day. My meaning here is that weekends at the farmhouse are always opportunities to cook and eat and to think about cooking and eating.
Breakfast is the first thing in the order of the day. Weekends at the farmhouse means waffles. Chef Greg prefers buckwheat. We usually serve with a dollop of peanut butter added to the maple syrup. At some point today, there may be an opportunity to see what is fresh in Old Man Slabach's garden; uhm! lolli bone. Dad has already promised an adventure into Sandusky for supper to treat us to one of his roadside finds; these are always roadhouse style jewels that are definitely off the beaten path. And, to top it all off, the fair begins today. Therefore, the evening promises a delicious funnel cake homemade by blue-haired, golden agers followed by an evening stroll among the 4-h barns. Today promises to be a good day. Plus, lingering in my subconscious is a way to make iced coffee that involves a cold brew . . . more on that later.
So all and all, if any of you have been waiting patiently for my next post, this weekend should be a doozie.
UPDATE, GREAT EXPECTATIONS:
Well, I didn't have to eat Miss Havisham's cake, but to suffice to say the funnel cake could have been better. At the fair, I couldn't find the golden age waffle stand, so I instead had to use the Bucyrus hospice waffle stand as my vendor. Okay, that was the most morbid f'd -up sentence I've ever written. :(
The people working the booth weren't grey haired, and therefore, I believe did not know what they were doing. I attribute this to lack of experience. With gray hair comes the knowledge of how to fry dough, it's a noble truth. The guy working the fryer just didn't know what he was doing, so instead of a tasty waffle, I got a fried Frisbee. Not to worry, this makes me want to make my own--in my own cast iron pan. I will definitely let you know who it goes.
Such a promising day but no luck on two fronts. I was promised a field trip. :( The field trip afar into the exotic land of Sandusky turned into a 5 min. drive to the road house. You may remember me bitching about the road house b/c of the overcooked salmon I had there the last time. It was not only overcooked but arrive at my table after everyone dinning with me had eaten. So, instead of getting grumpy, I rolled with it and ordered a steak. Go figure! A steak at the steak house (A tiger in Africa?), was actually the thing to order . . . well really fillet mignon. How could they f' that up really? It was really good with lots of blue cheese on it. However, because of the rug that was pulled out from under, I have been promised a trip to Vanson's in Monroeville for some veal picatti.
I know! It's Grandma's fault she fed me veal when I was little. I've only eaten it once since I turned twenty, and I plan on breaking down this summer for one more indulgence, and then it's back on the cruelity free wagon. Name my pennance?So, Vanson's is on notice. It better be good! If anyone finds themselves in Monroeville anytime soon, check it out 232 Sandusky St, Monroeville, OH 44847, (419) 465-2827 They serve a very good breakfast affordable and good size servings. The pancakes were decent too. And, isn't the dinning room quaint?
It reminds me of some places in and around Ohio that Mom and Dad took me when I was a kid. I love it. Can't wait to go back.Well as I promised before, I am still planning to update you on all everything that has happened since Feb. More to come
