A week of dreadfully sunny days finally broke, and it clouded up right after noon today. Sure, that's not generally seen by most humans as a positive statement, but for a gal like me, the threat of rain and the cool wind electrified me, and I had my first really energetic day in more than a week. I come alive when it's overcast. I was smiling and bouncing and enthusiastic about even the most simple activities. I needed a day like this.
After running a quick errand (the string trimmer has been out of string for weeks, so we re-stocked), we tried out a new park for me to get exercise and the roommate to catch Pokemon. This one is close to downtown, has a giant pavilion where they apparently can and probably do hold volleyball or basketball games (judging from the lighted scoreboard therein), odd little ladylike bronze sculptures, and a large rose garden at one end with more than a hundred different varieties of roses. (I seriously did not count. Just throwing out a number there.) I put my face in at least a couple dozen blossoms, trying to find any that had a rose-esque scent, and I was supremely disappointed. I found maybe four that actually smelled like roses to me. But I found lots of lovely new cultivars to plant, if I can figure out where on this small lot to put them. I have plans for an arbor one day, where a climber can go. But other than that, I'll have to be creative.
I lay in bed late this morning, realizing that for the first time in a week, I actually felt hungry. I have been totally off my feed while I felt so bad, and it was a novel experience craving real food again. I let my mind wander, and started thinking about how to be creative with the foods that we currently have in the house, including the growing number of large, ripe tomatoes from the garden. I knew we had a couple frozen pizzas (grain-free crust, to be certain), and I could easily cut up a fresh tomato for one of those. I always add extra cheese to them, because everything is better with Moar Cheese, and that got my creativity up. When I was little and could eat such things, my mother always made her lasagna with cottage cheese instead of ricotta. It made it moister and creamier than traditional lasagna. I wondered, why not on a pizza? What harm is there in trying? So after our tour of the new park, I stopped in and bought cottage cheese and sliced mozzarella (so that on the top would be little sheets of browned cheese, just like mom used to make). I used a large tomato and a hunk of fresh basil from the garden. It was definitely pizza you eat with a fork, but I'll be damned if it wasn't really good.
As I smeared the layer of cottage cheese on top of the frozen pizza, I was reminded of a story I heard in my youth. My cousins used to be in ROTC at the college in my hometown, and the father of one of my closest friends from high school was the colonel of the ROTC detachment. One weekend, they were all at some sort of military training campout. It was the morning following a night of seriously intense consumption of adult beverages. One of my cousins sat with his head in his hands, wanting to murder my friend (who was about 14 or 15 at the time) and his younger brother. They had stepped on empty Pepsi cans, wrapping them onto their shoes, and were stomping around the campsite, making as much noise as two young boys could, for no good reason at all, other than to annoy hung over would-be soldiers. Eventually my cousin asked (yelled? I don't know) the boys to stop it. My friend looked at his pained, green face, and said, "Picture this: Cottage cheese sandwiches." It was enough to make my cousin instantly ill. Well done, friend. Well done.
Lasagna pizza wasn't my only new culinary experience today. I was actually hungry enough to want to try to make a dessert too. I haven't tried to make a flourless chocolate cake in a while, and I kind of wanted to play with possible ingredients, to see what I could do on my own. So with only a vague impression of what a recipe should be like, I beat three eggs, stirred in a can of sweetened condensed milk, way more cocoa powder than I intended, and a couple of hunks of butter that I melted in the microwave. Right before I poured it into a buttered springform pan, I sprinkled in the tiniest bit of salt and cinnamon. It immediately started to ooze out of the pan, so I wrapped aluminum foil around the bottom and hoped for the best. I baked it until I could smell chocolate burning where it dripped on the coil of the oven. I let it cool while I watered the flower beds front and back, and then came in to try this thin layer of chocolate "cake" (more like pudding, and I mean it was less than half an inch thick, even in the smallest springform pan I had). I put a small scoop of vanilla ice cream on it, because why not. I truly surprised myself. It was really, really good. That last second urge to put cinnamon in it was inspired. I have a new work of art in my repertoire.
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