Day 13: Never have I ever.... skied a double-black-diamond

Most avid skiers have blazed down double-blacks all over the Rockies, the Sierra Nevadas, maybe even the Alps. But not me. I'm a pansy. I stick to my blues and zig-zap happily down the mountain, sometimes I even like to sing as I ski. I'm not exactly a mountainside daredevil. See, I'm fond of my face, and all four of my limbs. And I've heard one too many horror stories (Friend A broke his leg last year in Wyoming. Friend B required medical heli-transport in order to survive her skiing accident. Friend C broke his arm and leg, requiring six permanent pins in his bones. Need I go on?) I just don't care to ever know how it feel to ride down the mountain on one of those red sled-gurneys. 

Warning: Ski Patrol's last sweep is 3PM. If you ski this trail 

after 3PM  and become injured, you will  not be rescued, 

and will  likely die  alone overnight on the side of a 

freezing cold mountain. Happy Skiing!

But, I went skiing out in Utah this year. And it was gooooood. Thigh-deep powder. 50 inches in four days. Trails called "Mystic Pines" that literally made me weep. Constant falls, near-constant fear. Runs so long, I had to stop seven times on the way down. And when I ski east coast mountain, the blues suddenly feel  like greens. The blacks were like blues. I'm not really challenged? This is strange. So, since I was skiing with some trés advanced skiers that day, I felt the confidence to go for broke. (no bones.)

So, I saw the double-black-diamond trail called "Outrage" and thought.... I want to be Outraged! I'll do it! Down the wooded, steep, mogul-y trail I went.

Results: My form was terrible. The trail skied me. But, I was in control about 90% of the time, and the other 10%, I was lucky enough not to crash or fall.

Status: Success! 

Day 11: Never have I ever... channeled my inner Bubbe

I recently received a request from my roomie to make matzoh ball soup. Or matzo ball soup, or matzah ball soup, depending on how you spell it. Now, I really should know a thing or two about matzoh ball soup, seeing as though half of my family (and half of my heritage) is Jewish. But the truth is, I've only had it once, tasting a friend's order at a diner. And I thought the balls were kind of.... meh. I much prefer slippery, slurp-able noodles. But, honoring such requests make for a happy home, and I like to try new things. So Matzoh Monday it is! (well, I think it was a Wednesday. Whatever.) 

I should mention that the request wasn't for any old matzoh ball soup. It was for his mother's recipe. The request every woman dreads: Please live up to my infallible Mother's famous signature dish. I felt destined to fail. As I began the recipe, he said "I don't know about this.... you have 29 years of Debbie's Matzoh Magic to live up to." Great. 

She had graciously sent her recipe, but unfortunately we went shopping without it in hand, and guessed at a few ingredients. Right away I realized I couldn't follow it exactly. First of all, I had bought boneless chicken thighs instead of a whole chicken. Second, her recipe only called for water and no stock (the whole chicken would soon turn the water into stock). But without the chicken innards, I knew a flavorful broth would require a boxed stock. Cheating? Maybe. But nothing is worse than bland soup. 

I also browned the chicken thighs first, my own little additional step in the recipe. Then, I covered the thighs with half water/half stock, and added heaps of chopped carrots, celery, and onion. Then it was let to simmmmmmmmmmmmmer... for about two hours. 

In the meantime, I began to make my first matzoh balls. I bought whole-wheat matzoh meal, partly because it's healthier, and partly because that's all the store had in stock. In the middle of February, without any matzoh-mongering holidays in the near future or recent past, I guess it isn't a top-seller? The recipe distinctly said that I should mix the matzoh balls in "a non-metal bowl". This perplexed me. Why a non-metal bowl? I googled it. Apparently there is some debate over whether yeast reacts with metal, giving dough a funny taste. However, I'm pretty sure that the whole point of matzoh meal is that there is no yeast, as it's ground-up unleavened bread made of flour and water. But regardless, I didn't want to monkey with the rules, and so I pulled out my Grandma Marie's orange milkglass mixing bowl circa 1935. It's such a classic. 

I mixed eggs, water, oil, baking powder, salt, pepper and matzoh meal until it became a glue-like paste. After a good chill in the fridge, I shaped the paste into ping-pong sized balls and dropped them into boiling water to cook on low for 30 minutes. 

By now, the soup smelled delicious. The chicken had completely broken apart into strings and small chunks, and the veggies were perfectly tender. I ladled the soup out first, then placed 1-2 cooked matzoh balls in each bowl, as per the recipe's instructions. I wondered if I could have just plopped the cooked matzoh balls right into the soup all at once, but it was insisted upon that the two items needed to be stored separately until they were to be consumed. Because that's the way it has to be, and always has been, forever. 

Results: It was delicious!! I can't pretend this was some great feat. It was chicken soup and some dough balls. And my slight adjustments were (surprisingly) noted as welcome changes, as they made the soup slightly healthier by way of whole wheat and less chicken fat. 

My opinion of matzoh balls remains the same: meh. But I was just relieved that I didn't mess up 29 years of magic. 

Status: Success! 

Gone Fishin'

I wish. Actually, I've been sick. And turns out that the only new thing I've wanted to try this week is the new Puffs Plus Lotion with the Scent of Vicks. Inhaling the soothing menthol felt so good on my burning lungs. And made me smell like this guy.
Thank you for understanding my recovery hiatus. I'm almost all better, and will be resuming my activities today as well as catching up on two long overdue posts. I have lots of exciting, new activities planned this week, none of which include coughing up blood or passing out in the grocery store. Fingers crossed.