INNUMERACY FOR THE BRAIN-FOGGED, who spelled this wrong!!!!!
I did it again. Some of you who have been following my blog might remember a crucial and funny incident from a year ago when I still had my MM card. I had gone to the Dispensary (always an enlightening experience) to get some "herbal medicine" to help with my neuropathy and dizziness from chemo. Being seriously befuddled about the Metric system, I ordered 14 grams EACH of two types of weed. None of us there thought to protest when the cashier got out a container as big as a martini-shaker and filled it with green buds. Even my darling husband did not protest at the horrific price. I kept thinking, "Gram, gram, that's not much, right? Less than an ounce???"
So, pause for a despairing sigh, in my love affair with my new kitchen and fancy-schmanzy stove, I not only made homemade applesauce today, I also decided to make "Magic Tomato" (or is it Tomato Magic"?) from Paula Wolfort's dazzling new "Moroccan Cooking." Having purchased a spiffy red tagine from Amazon, I thought it would be fun to prepare for some serious Moroccan cooking, and this dense, rich version of tomato paste seemed the perfect thing to do.
I got out my 2-cup glass measurer. I read the recipe, then reread it just to make sure. "Hmmm, 6-9 ounces of sun-dried tomatoes packed in oil..." I figuratively scratched my head; "Let's see--a pint's a pound the world around. So this must be almost 2 cups, right?" Ha. Faithfully, I ladled out 1 & 1/2 cups of sun-dried tomatoes packed in oil, and put it in a heavy pan along with 28 ounces of fire-roasted, chopped tomatoes. I cooked it all for 30 minutes, then ran it through the processor.
"Hmmm, this recipe sure makes a hell of a lot!" I grumbled, deciding I'd have to freeze 2 small bags of it and keep a jar in the new fridge. Which still intimidates me and beeps at me
when the power goes off, as it did last night.
It wasn't until I was lying down for my nap that it suddenly struck me: Doh! 6-8 ounces is LESS than an entire cup, you dim-witted, chemo-brain broad with failed ennumeracy skills.
So--for those of you out there with unfolding brains, recovering from chemo and/or surgery, I am here to tell you; I AM WITH YOU STILL. I now have some very, very rich tomato yumminess which I can use in tagines, pasta sauce, and a host of other recipes calling for deep deliciousness. And we will not count the calories added by those bits of sunlight packed in oil.
So, pause for a despairing sigh, in my love affair with my new kitchen and fancy-schmanzy stove, I not only made homemade applesauce today, I also decided to make "Magic Tomato" (or is it Tomato Magic"?) from Paula Wolfort's dazzling new "Moroccan Cooking." Having purchased a spiffy red tagine from Amazon, I thought it would be fun to prepare for some serious Moroccan cooking, and this dense, rich version of tomato paste seemed the perfect thing to do.
I got out my 2-cup glass measurer. I read the recipe, then reread it just to make sure. "Hmmm, 6-9 ounces of sun-dried tomatoes packed in oil..." I figuratively scratched my head; "Let's see--a pint's a pound the world around. So this must be almost 2 cups, right?" Ha. Faithfully, I ladled out 1 & 1/2 cups of sun-dried tomatoes packed in oil, and put it in a heavy pan along with 28 ounces of fire-roasted, chopped tomatoes. I cooked it all for 30 minutes, then ran it through the processor.
"Hmmm, this recipe sure makes a hell of a lot!" I grumbled, deciding I'd have to freeze 2 small bags of it and keep a jar in the new fridge. Which still intimidates me and beeps at me
It wasn't until I was lying down for my nap that it suddenly struck me: Doh! 6-8 ounces is LESS than an entire cup, you dim-witted, chemo-brain broad with failed ennumeracy skills.
So--for those of you out there with unfolding brains, recovering from chemo and/or surgery, I am here to tell you; I AM WITH YOU STILL. I now have some very, very rich tomato yumminess which I can use in tagines, pasta sauce, and a host of other recipes calling for deep deliciousness. And we will not count the calories added by those bits of sunlight packed in oil.
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