A Cat, a Kitten, and Coming Home

My poor, sorry blog has been neglected ever since I started my job as Food Editor at The Toledo Blade in February of 2014. Deadlines, stories, and not enough time have kept me from stopping by here very often. And I've missed everyone!

So today, after chatting with a couple of our editors, the suggestion was made that I could use this space for random stories, for stories that aren't quite what the paper wants on the food pages, for stories that deserve to be read but need a different space.

Here's the first installment, then: a story about Craig's and my new kitten. It's a sequel to an earlier story, and I've included a link. I'm hoping to do this fairly regularly ... we shall see. Time is elusive, and there's not enough of it. But I'm going to try!!! (If you want to follow my writings and adventures, the best bet is still The Toledo Blade Food Page, on Facebook.)

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In January, I introduced everyone to my cat, Hobbesie. (Here's the story.)

His proper name is Hobbit because, as I noted, “he likes to eat breakfast. And second breakfast. And a mid-morning snack. And brunch, followed by lunch, second lunch, and afternoon tea. He wants ’linner’: a lunch/dinner combo. He likes supper, dinner, an evening snack and a midnight snack.”

Hobbesie has filled out nicely (perhaps just a touch too nicely, as he’s a sturdy 10-pounder now), compared to the scrawny little thing he was when we found him wandering in our neighborhood last fall.

Given how popular he seemed to be after his introduction, with lots of feline fans telling me about their own cats’ quirky names and unusual eating habits, I thought you’d like to know that Hobbiesie now has a baby sister, Graycie. Needless to say, we called her that because she’s gray with a light-colored striped stomach.

Graycie was living under the deck behind our house, and we’d see her with two other cats who were much bigger than she was. Neither seemed to care for her efforts at snuggling; one of them actually swatted her when she tried to cuddle up. The three would come up for the food we’d started providing once we realized they were there. A very round raccoon also enjoyed joining the party. The buffet was served every night.

We checked with several rescue organizations, and it became clear that the older cats wouldn’t be domesticated very readily. But Graycie was very little, so we tried to capture her.

She was skittish and afraid, but gradually would come out to eat some soft canned food even if we sat close by, hoping to make her comfortable with our presence. As a skinny little scavenger, Graycie didn’t have a particularly discriminating palate and happily ate everything we offered.

Very quickly, the older cats seemed to have left her alone. It was as though they’d completed their mission, dropping her off at a new home where someone would take care of her. Graycie would sit alone in the middle of our deck and cry, but then run back under the slats any time we gently tried to get close.

There’s one sure way to lure a little frightened cat, though.

You call it tuna. I call it kitten kryptonite.

We put a small bowl of it into a carrier one evening and she soon tiptoed out in search of the treat. At which point we shut the door, brought her inside (to Hobbesie’s great delight as he sat on top of the handle), and then took her to a vet the next morning. He guessed that she was about eight weeks old.

Some creeping crud in her eye, a bad smell, fleas, and being hungry were the only medical issues. Eye drops, oral meds, death-to-fleas treatment. Then Graycie was discharged to come home. Our home.

Ravenous as she was, it didn’t matter whether we fed her Hobbesie’s kibble for indoor cats or her own kitten chow. Cans of chicken, turkey, tuna with egg, salmon, pate (which Hobbesie loathes) or tidbits or filets ... Graycie ate it all.

Until a few days later, when she snubbed the beef shreds.

Beggars can’t be choosers, as they say. But apparently Graycie had realized that she didn’t need to beg anymore. She didn’t need to share her food with the mean cats or with Rocky Raccoon.

Sure, Hobbesie ate out of her bowl because it somehow seemed new and exotic, and he was likely teaching her who the Alpha Male was. But Graycie just retaliated by eating out of Hobbesie’s bowl. It all worked out and no one was going hungry.

And so, with the new-found comfort of knowing more food would be available, Graycie let us know she didn’t want beef. She waited ’til her minions served her something better.

I used to joke that Hobbesie was our starter cat, and happily he likes having Graycie around.

Maybe the next cat will be beige. I already have a name picked out: Matzah Ball.

Front Page, Above the Fold

Front page, above the fold - where everyone can see it even as it sits on a newsstand - is just about the best place for a story. And today, after a whirlwind of 6+ months that has kept me from blogging as much as I'd like to, kept me from keeping in touch with all of my friends here as much as I'd like to, I got a HUGE story (in more ways than one!) for Toledo, with primo placement, today.

Here's the story. It's a really good one, with tremendous nostalgic value and a lot of hope for something to brighten what can be some disappointing days in Toledo. The city needs a little love. We can't drink the water, unemployment is high, my paper did an entire story about blight in the city as the faltering economy has wreaked havoc here.

But today, people who are old enough to remember Tiedtke's Department Store are smiling as they think back to better days. People throughout the city who shopped at Tiedtke's or who grew up hearing about it - oh, the store is legendary for customer service and for taking care of employees! - are excited about a new, and old, tradition.

I still can't believe that, in January, food writing was my side gig and today I've got a front page headline. You never know what the universe has planned for you ....

Playing Catch-Up

The chocolate and white chocolate mousse torte from Giorgio's - the chef/owner's signature dessert.

I moved to Toledo on the 1st to become the new Food Editor of The Toledo Blade. It's been a dizzying whirlwind of unpacking, training on new systems and programs, learning to work with a team when I'm accustomed to being a one-woman show who did my own posts entirely (including the pictures), orienting myself and not getting lost ... whew! I feel as though I've done virtually nothing since I came here - with the exception of visiting Jeremy last week (I miss him!!!) - but work and try to get myself up to speed in a dozen different areas. I'm still trying to catch up with all the comments on my pieces, with voicemails, with emails, with commitments.

At the same time, I've met some of the most wonderful, welcoming people here! Everyone - well, except for the woman who called on the day my first column came out (and called, truly, the moment that I'd just sat down at my desk!), chastised me because she couldn't find the recipe for a dessert that was merely featured as an example of culinary students' work, and then hung up on me when I offered to get the recipe for her - has been unbelievably kind and gracious. Folks here have tremendous pride in their city and in its food, and they want me to love it all, too. It's pretty hard to resist when an entire city is rolling out a red carpet for you, and feeding you along the way! Craig and I are going to a Shabbat dinner tonight at the home of a legendary cook; she warned us to stop eating at noon, so we'd be ready for the meal, but others have chimed in that I should have stopped eating yesterday!

So ye olde blog has been a tad neglected, shall we tactfully say? And I feel as though I'm neglecting my friends, too, as I'm so busy trying to stay afloat that I haven't read your own wonderful work, commented, anything ... sigh. I'm in transition, and I'm hoping things will calm down a bit soon.

In the meantime, though, I thought I'd at least share my adventures with you by showing you some of the amazing food I've eaten since coming here! That's right - Toledo is a GREAT food town, and I'm here to make sure everyone knows it!

 

Vegetarian plate at Manos Greek Restaurant.

Mini cinnamon rolls from Black Kite Coffee & Pies, at the Restaurant Week Kick-Off.

Curried Chicken Salad from The Cafe at Oliver House, at the Restaurant Week Kick-Off.

From Registry Bistro, at the Restaurant Week Kick-Off.

Reuben at the Dorr St. Cafe.

Shredded Chicken Quesadilla at La Hacienda.

Be sure to read my column and my weekly features (recipes, community members, etc.) on Tuesdays to keep up with everything ... :)

My Word of the Year (a little late, but ...!)

Last year's "Word of the Year" - with much gratitude, as always, to my beloved Leanne at From Chaos Comes Happiness for the inspiration to choose an annual theme and goal - was "Dance."

My intention was to dance as I baked, with tunes that are just fun - albeit, often cheesy or embarrassing! - infusing my kitchen and my food with happiness. I did this, somewhat, though I often had Jeremy and Craig around, as the former has lived primarily with me rather than with his dad and the latter spent long weekends with me. They like to watch t.v. (and, as musicians with semi-fried eardrums, they turn it up way too loud!), and they tease me - with affection, of course - about some of my questionable taste in music. (I have a far greater sense of humor about it than they do.) So, if I had the house to myself, I took full advantage of it and turned up the tunes and danced away. It didn't happen often, but I did enjoy it when it did.

On a less enthusiastic or entertaining note, I also continued the dance with the insidious devils of substance abuse and mental illness in loved ones. Trips to the ER, calls to the police, the search for stability ... but I've done these steps for a few decades, now, and I've perfected them; one might confuse me with Ginger Rogers, or presume I've spent some time at an Arthur Murray dance studio, given my fluidity and grace in these circumstances. While I never take sobriety or sanity for granted, the last half of 2013 has been remarkably stable and serene. Good health, serenity. My dance card was full, and it exhausted me to take so many turns 'round the dance floor, but I'm sitting and sipping some non-alcoholic punch now as I enjoy the chance to rest my feet.

There were also a couple of dances with death, as twice I was told that my father was close to it, his congestive heart failure trying hard to lead. But at 86, my father is still here. My 82-year-old mother - who overlapped with my father one day in the hospital, as each had a health issue to contend with - is still here, too. Death has retreated to wallflower status for the moment ... watching, but from a distance.

I danced through the year, continuing to write, to take care of others, to try to take care of myself, to take on new challenges (like my first gig as an emcee, for a Girl Scout event featuring both a bake-off and an auction). I had surgery on my shoulder, from which I'm still healing, which has restricted my ability to dance a bit - mostly, in recent weeks, I've been going to work, going to physical therapy, and sleeping. Healing is hard work.

So, what inspiration to seek in 2014?

What word to guide me, to lead me?

This year, it was hard. It usually comes to me in a flash of brilliance, the perfect notion, as though it was bashert [bah-SHAYRT] ... destiny.

But not this year. This time, my brain was clouded by pain, by stress, by trying to prepare for surgery on December 13 and to get things ready at work, at home, at The Ann Arbor News, on the blog, and everywhere else ahead of time. Nothing sounded right. Nothing fit.

But then it came. The word.

Here.

So often, I'm looking ahead toward posts to do, food holidays to prepare for ("celebrating" early in order to have a post ready for the day itself), feeling pressure from deadlines and obligations, trying to sort it all out and meet all my responsibilities rather than being HERE, in the moment. I'm always a day, a week, a month ahead.

But I'm determined to be here, now, in the moment - to stop my brain from spinning and planning, to focus on this experience, this place, this time. And since I thought of the word, it's even taken on new connotations.

Because I have big, big, BIG news to share: in the midst of surgery and holidays, I managed to get a new job in a new city.

I'm going to be the new Food Editor of The Toledo Blade, starting February 5!!!

Toledo is only an hour away from Ann Arbor, straight down 23. But it's not Ann Arbor. It's not even in Michigan, where I've lived since we moved from New York City in 1978. When I say "here," I'll be in a new place, completely unexpectedly. I was just seeking a quick gig to supplement having been cut back by The Ann Arbor News to one post/week from three. You never know what the universe plans for you! And, as my friend Nicole, of Destination Unknown, has posted on Facebook in the past, Coco Chanel had the perfect quote about this:

“I don't understand how a woman can leave the house without fixing herself up a little - if only out of politeness. And then, you never know, maybe that's the day she has a date with destiny. And it's best to be as pretty as possible for destiny.”

Six days after having a lot of work done on my shoulder - with three little scars and three little stitches, and unable to move my arm very much - I had a date with destiny. I put on a black sleeveless dress that I could step into (since I couldn't lift my left arm), one that zips up the back and wouldn't sit heavily on my still-bandaged self. I put on a purple cardigan, 'cause it was cold and 'cause I'm a colorful girl who tries to dress with some flair even when I'm toeing a fine line between needing meds but not wanting to drool on the potential new boss' desk. I put on my sparkliest earrings, a beautiful pair I'd bought for $2 at a rummage sale at Jeremy's old high school, and a gorgeous red wool coat with a black velvet collar.

And I danced with destiny.

I spent 5 hours chatting, asking and answering questions, and doing everything in my power to come back here - to Toledo, where I was being interviewed. Many people have suggested to me that this might be a stepping stone; I ask, instead, why it can't be a destination? Destiny.

And so, I considered choosing "destiny" as my word of the year, or perhaps bashert [bah-SHAYRT], the Hebrew version. But I think that "here" may be more appropriate.

For I will soon be here, referring to a new city when I say it. But a huge part of my heart will stay here in Ann Arbor, with Jeremy, especially. It will stay here with friends, with the synagogue I've worked at for the past 7 years with such wonderful people that the congregation is really a part of my extended family. Tony Bennett left his heart in San Francisco; I leave a piece of mine in the city I've lived in for 30 years. But all of these loved ones will be here with me, always, no matter where I am physically.

I have dozens of ideas for the food page, from social media to contests to holidays to food drives. I need to stay here, in the moment, focused. I need to be here, learning about a new city and its restaurants and markets and food banks and - most importantly - its people.

It's scary. I also considered choosing the word "ch-ch-ch-ch-changes" (just as David Bowie sings it) ... I debated this word, in this format, with its hesitation and fear of the unknown. But while I'm partly terrified, partly exhilarated, partly dumbfounded - a whole smorgasbord of mishigas [mish-ih-GAHS] and shpilkes [SHPIL-kiss] (great Yiddish words meaning "craziness" and "antsiness," respectively) - I don't want fear to particularly be a part of that mix. I'm nervous. I feel I can only disappoint, as everyone's expectations seem to be set so very high, although I'm really hoping to rejuvenate and invigorate the food page and invest in a relationship with readers.

But I'm going forward into a new year, a new city, a new home, a new job, a new life intending to be here, enjoying and appreciating all of it!

On Saturday, as the moving truck and Craig and I cross the state line into Ohio, I'll say, "I'm here." And the adventure will begin ....