Pretending to Farm

Hey Sweet Potato, I could eat you with a spoon!

When I was a little girl, Helen, or Gramma as I called her, would hug me tight and declare that I was so sweet, she could eat me with a spoon. Which, looking back, was very loving and wonderful in that way that only grandmothers can convey; but, at the time, it frightened me. I had all sorts of mental images of my grandmother, who was a tall, big-boned German woman, wielding a giant grapefruit spoon and plunging it into my short, small-boned American body like a deranged zombie.

I assumed it had to be a grapefruit spoon as it needed sharp edges and a point to really dig into my my flesh. Unfounded fear is all in the details. 

But we're here to talk about pie, aren't we? Thanksgiving is in exactly a week. And I am scheduled to work that day. Which does not please me. So let's pout and make sweet potato pie. With bourbon, some in the pie and a slitch on ice for the baker.

Sweet Potato Pie is similar to pumpkin pie in the fact that is indeed orange and uses similar spices and flavorings in its recipe. But a sweet potato is a tuber while a pumpkin is a squash. As an aside, sweet potatoes are not yams but were mislabeled as such by growers who thought we were too stupid to know a sweet potato was not the same as regular potatoes. Because there is nothing worse than baking what you think are russets and discovering that your chives and bacon bits are useless. Yams are a completely different genus and species, are native to Africa, popular in Latin American dishes, and very sweet. They can also grow over seven feet long which would be damned difficult to manage in my kitchen.

To my taste buds, sweet potatoes are richer and slightly more sugary than pumpkins. But canned pumpkin puree is ubiquitous this time of year and one actually has to bake and mash sweet potatoes. How inconvenient. We're making pie with them regardless.

Or irregardless as Helen would say. She loved collecting malapropisms and using them for her own amusement so that someone, meeting her for the first time, would not realize that she knew the correct word or phrase.


Let's bake!


This recipe is courtesy of Paula Deen and FoodNetwork.


 

Old Fashioned Sweet Potato Pie

Prep Time: 20 min

Cook Time: 1 hr 55 min

Level: Easy

Serves: 6 to 8 servings

 INGREDIENTS

• 2 cups peeled, cooked sweet potatoes
• 1 1/4 cups sugar
• 1/2 stick melted butter
• 2 eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract or 1 to 2 tablespoons bourbon
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1 cup milk
• 9-inch unbaked pie crust
• 3 egg whites

DIRECTIONS

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

For the filling, using an electric hand mixer, combine the potatoes, 1 cup of the sugar, the butter, eggs, vanilla, salt, and spices. Mix thoroughly. Add the milk and continue to mix. Pour the filling into the pie crust and bake for 35 to 45 minutes, or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean. Place the pie on a rack and cool to room temperature before covering with meringue.

For the meringue, using an electric mixer, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form; beat in the remaining 1/4 cup sugar 1 tablespoon at a time. Continue beating until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is glossy and stiff, but not dry. With a rubber spatula, spoon the meringue onto the pie, forming peaks. Make sure the meringue touches the crust all around. Sprinkle with a pinch of granulated sugar. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes, or until delicately browned. Cool and serve.

What I did right: I added extra vanilla, a dollop of bourbon and a generous pinch of nutmeg. It seemed sacrilege to not use nutmeg. When beating the meringue, I added a 1/4 tsp of cream of tartar, doubled the amount of egg whites, and beat them to soft peaks with a hand mixer in my clean copper bowl. Nice and high, that's how I like my meringue.
What I did wrong: See Butterscotch Cream Pie.
What I thought of it: Yum. More complex than pumpkin pie, different in that it's topped with meringue instead of whipped cream. It's lighter and better for you. After all, nutritionists at the Center for Science and the Public Interest ranked sweet potatoes #1 in nutrition, outscoring the next highest vegetable by over 100 points.
How I'll tweak it next time: I think I'll make two. Teenage boys, you know.

 

The Channeler is Not Baking Today

Why, you may ask? Well, she's damned tired as she is still working in the often menial, typically Sisyphean food and beverage industry and has been on her feet for far too many hours in the last several days. Her dogs are barking and we are not referring to the puggle, the bloodhound, or the little brown mutt. 

Oy, my feet hurt, my legs ache, and I got a little thing ya know, a little scratchiness. And heavens to Mergatroid, I cannot afford to get sick.

So I have an assignment for you. Make some pie crust for this week. It will make the pies go faster. If you have a food processor, which I do because I am a kitchen gadget whore, use it to make your pie crust. If you don't, use two knives or a pastry blender. If you buy a pre-made pie crust, don't tell me. I can't bear to know these things.

For two 9" pie shells, mix or pulse together 2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour and 1/2 tsp of salt. Cut in or pulse 2 sticks (1 cup) of very cold butter cut into pieces. Into a 1-cup Pyrex measuring cup, add an egg yolk, 1 tsp apple cider vinegar, and a little crushed ice. Add water until the mixture reaches the 1/2 cup level. Mix and add to your flour and butter mixture, either with your hands and forks or by adding a slow stream through the feed tube of the food processor while it is running (quick, catch it!). You may not need to add all the liquid as you only need enough until it almost gathers into a ball.

Divide the dough in half. Stick each into a gallon ziploc bag, smush into a flat disc, seal and put it into the refrigerator until later. There, you're done. Go watch Glee and The Fashion Show with TLo. Beware Iman.

Oh, if you were one of those extra credit overachievers in school and want to do more to get ahead, you can bake some sweet potatoes, enough for approximately two cups of mashed sweet potato. I used four medium sweet potatoes.

That is all. I will try not to be so punchy tomorrow. Sláinte! 

Pie Week!

Pie Week!

Just like Shark Week but sweeter!

Eons and eons ago, when I was but a mere teenager, I spent a summer working at The Greenbrier Resort in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia. I was there to play nanny to a young baby, the son of the hotel manager, and to free my parents, who were living in North Carolina, of my presence so they could have sex anytime they damned well pleased.

Beside the perks of being able to use the spa free of charge, to eat anything on the premises I desired, and to spend hours hanging poolside with hunky teenage lifeguards, all while getting paid, I got to play Suzie Homemaker and bake during the baby's naptime. On one such magical afternoon, and after searching for recipes which I had the ingredients to make, I discovered the glory that is Butterscotch Cream Pie.

Although a butterscotch pie is not traditional for Thanksgiving, and, in fact, no pie that I feature this week will be, it is a delectable dessert treat. Not too sweet, the richness of its pudding filling is balanced with the lightness of meringue cradled in a flaky pie crust. It's ready for its closeup, Mr DeMille. Just bake and devour.

Recipe was submitted by Colleen on the allrecipes.com website. The photos are my own. 

And, no, I am not a photographer. If Barry or Julie visit, you'll be able to see some quality food porn.

Butterscotch Cream Pie

Rated: Submitted By: Colleen Prep Time: 5 Minutes Cook Time: 40 Minutes Ready In: 45 Minutes Servings: 8

"This recipe has been a favorite of mine and my family for over 50 years. The meringue topping with the butterscotch filling makes for a very rich dessert, eat it warm."

INGREDIENTS:

2 cups milk 1/3 cup all-purpose flour 1 cup brown sugar 1/4 teaspoon salt 3 egg yolks 3 tablespoons butter, melted 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

6 egg whites 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar 2 tablespoons confectioners' sugar   1 (9 inch) unbaked pie crust

DIRECTIONS:

1.	Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Brush pie crust lightly with egg white to seal. Bake in preheated oven for 10 minutes, or until light brown and crisp. Remove from oven and reduce temperature to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
2.	In a small bowl, mix together the flour, brown sugar and salt; set aside. In the top of a double boiler over medium heat, scald the milk while stirring with a whisk. Slowly whisk in the flour mixture. Cook, stirring constantly until thickened; remove from heat.
3.	Place the egg yolks in a medium bowl. Stir in 1/3 of the milk mixture to temper the yolks, Then pour the yolk mixture back into the pan. Return to the stove and cook, stirring constantly until thick. Remove from heat and stir in the butter and vanilla. Pour into baked pie crust.
4.	In a large glass or metal mixing bowl, beat egg whites, cream of tartar and confectioners' sugar until stiff peaks form. Spread meringue over pie, covering completely.
5.	Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 10 to 15 minutes, or until meringue is golden brown in spots.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED © 2010 Allrecipes.com What I did right: As I don't cotton to tempering egg yolks (pathological fear of scrambling), I performed my Time Saving Superhero Pudding and Pie Filling Shortcut. After whisking the dry ingredients together in a heavy bottomed saucepan (I prefer All-Clad Master Chef), I mixed in the egg yolks and then drizzled in the milk before heating the pan. After about ten minutes of stirring with a whisk, the mixture thickened and came to a full boil. I took it off the heat, added the butter and twice the vanilla called for, and, shazam, butterscotch pie filling. Also, I used a clean copper bowl and a handheld mixer to beat the egg whites, giving me picture-perfect meringue. What I did wrong: I could say I did nothing wrong though I did insist on using my favorite Emile Henry 10" pie plate which was a tad large for this recipe. My 8" Pyrex would have made a high and perfect pie but it's boring glass and I like pretty dishes. I am a girl after all. What I thought of it: Delicious! There I was right back at The Greenbrier all over again, poolside with hunky teenage lifeguards. Then, I started to feel pervy because I am 47  and my twin boys are the same age as those lifeguards were so I just ate quietly and minded my own beeswax while my waistline expanded. How I'll tweak it next time: I'll search the internets for a smaller but still pretty pie plate or, sigh, use the Pyrex one. Other than that, I won't change a thing. Unless you all have a special request, tomorrow we'll talk dough and sweet potatoes. And ugly pie plates because the pretty one has a pie in it.  BTW, Helen would definitely enjoy a piece of this pie. She liked having  "a little meat on her bones". In moderation. "Everything in moderation."

 

Happy Easter!

Our personal Easter Bunny, Albert, and the rest of the Dillon Family would like to wish everyone a very happy Easter filled with rebirth and renewal.

We here at Rancho Laurena are enjoying the new life with which we've been blessed and hoping for Charlotte to repeat last Easter's performance by gifting us all with more lambs.
(Otherwise, we're going to have to paint Goodyear on her sides and have her officiate sports events, poor girl.)

March Forth!

I have a recurrent fear of constantly repeating myself. This is due to my dear departed paternal grandmother who, well, constantly repeated herself. She told the same stories over and over and, since we all loved her more than life itself (well at least I did), we never called her on it. Also, she told them in such an entertaining manner, particularly when sharing cocktail hour with her best friend Hunna, that no one truly minded.

So here it is my birthday again and, for the life of me, I can’t think of what I’ve told you and what I haven’t. Yes, I could look it up but I’m too lazy. I have a nasty cold/flu (a generous present from my husband who received it from his co-workers, the gift that keeps on giving, you might say). My lymph nodes are swollen from singing feliz compleanos (it’s a little known fact that lymph nodes are heavily into important days, hence all the sickness that accompanies holidays and other special occasions and also they sing only in Spanish).

Risking repetition, here is some Lauren’s birthday trivia:

Did you know that March 4th is the only day with an action, i.e. March Forth!?

This marching forward birthday is shared by Antonio Vivaldi, John Garfield, Patricia Heaton, Chastity Bono, Emilio Estefan, Miriam Makeba, Catherine O’Hara, Steven Weber, Knute Rockne, and James Ellroy.

The first tavern in Boston was opened on March 4th, 1634. I think this explains a lot.

Also on this day in history :

1766 The British Parliament repeals the Stamp Act, the cause of bitter and violent opposition in the colonies

1789 The first Congress of the United States meets in New York and declares that the Constitution is in effect. (I think this means my birthday should be a national holiday, don't you?)

1791 Vermont is admitted as the 14th state. It is the first addition to the original 13 colonies.

1792 Oranges introduced to Hawaii

1793 George Washington is inaugurated as President for the second time. Shortest speech (133 words) (I think he just wanted to go home to Mt Vernon and make whiskey, the poor guy.)

1797 Vice-President John Adams, elected President on December 7, to replace George Washington, is sworn in.1796: The First Real Election.

1801 Thomas Jefferson becomes the first President to be inaugurated in Washington , D.C.

1809 Madison becomes 1st President inaugurated in American-made clothes

1825 John Quincy Adams inaugrated as 6th President

1829 President Jackson gives his "just policy for Indians" speech today

1849 Mormon pioneers establish the State of Deseret in what is now Utah , with Salt Lake City as its capital.

1861 Lincoln 's first presidential inauguration

1861 The Confederate States of America adopt the "Stars and Bars" flag.

1861 President Lincoln opens Government Printing Office

1863 Battle of Thompson's Station, Tennessee

1863 Territory of Idaho established

1881 California becomes 1st state to pass plant quarantine legislation

1901 William McKinley is inaugurated president for the second time. Theodore Roosevelt is inaugurated as vice president.

1902 American Automobile Association (AAA) founded in Chicago

1908 The New York board of education bans the act of whipping students in school.

1909 President Taft inaugrated as 27th President during 10" snowstorm

1913 Woodrow Wilson inaugurated as 28th President

1913 1st US law regulating the shooting of migratory birds passed

1914 Doctor Fillatre of Paris , France successfully separates Siamese twins.

1917 Jeannette Rankin (Representative-Republican-MT) becomes 1st female member of Congress

1921 Warren G. Harding is sworn in as America 's 29th President.

1921 Hot Springs National Park created in Arkansas

1929 Herbert Hoover inaugurated as 31st President

1929 Charles Curtis (R-Kansas) becomes the first Native American to be Vice President of the U.S.

1933 FDR inaugrated as 32nd President, pledges to pull US out of Depression & says "We have nothing to fear but fear itself"

1938 Toothbrush bristles are changed from badger hair to nylon

1944 Berlin is bombed by the American forces for the first time.The U.S. 93rd Bomb Group.

1952 North Korea accuses the United nations of using germ warfare.

1970 Fifty-seven people are killed as the French submarine Eurydice sinks in the Mediterranean Sea.

1970 Jacksonville is 1st college basketball team to average 100+ points per game

1975 Queen Elizabeth knights Charlie Chaplin.

1977 Earthquake in Romania, kills 1,541

1979 US Voyager I photo reveals Jupiter's rings

1979 200th episode of "All in the Family"

1987 President Reagan takes full responsibility for the Iran-Contra affair in a national address.

Because I am sick, and therefore stupid, I cannot think of anything clever to say. Maybe at the least we have learned a thing or two together to forget later. Happy Birthday to me, Woohoo!

Mrs. Fool

Before you begin reading this dribble, stop what you are doing and make sure you have your black-eyed peas cooking on the stove (no, not the group, that would be silly plus they wouldn’t fit in the pot). You must cook them today, not tomorrow, nor a week from yesterday. This is a rule that must not be broken; our new year depends upon it.

That said, how was your Hogmanay? After writing yesterday’s post, I looked up Edinburgh’s Website touting their oh-my-could-this-be-more-fun raucousness, shared it with Hunky Husband, and we have collectively set a goal to celebrate the next new year there! Honestly, where else can one march through a river of fire, set a Viking longboat aflame, and burn a giant willow stag?
So 2008-2009 Hogmanay in Edinburgh it shall be where we will celebrate “A guid New Year to ane an' a'!” (Now to just come up with that pesky matter of funding the adventure but I’ll think about that tomorrow, Scarlett. It’s New Year’s Day!)

Dreams of Edinburgh notwithstanding, we had a wonderful evening two doors down (where they were laughing and drinking and having a party). Got that song in your head? Good. The food was wonderful as was the company. We actually behaved ourselves considering the occasion (I’m saving rampant misbehavior for next year) and I had just enough to drink to get to that point where, for some unfathomable reason, I think I can dance and also think I look damned good doing it. My dear friend Karen and I share this phenomenon.

Plus, “The Clash” was blasting “London Calling” on the stereo; it is a not-to-be-broken Lauren rule that I must shake my moneymaker to “The Clash” and/or the “B-52’s.” (As an aside, wouldn’t it be nice if the shaking of one’s middle-aged posterior would generate capital? It would definitely help with trip expenses.) Anyway, here I was in a room with about 20 people dancing all by myself (didn’t want to be but I was all by myself anyway, Eric Carmen) when, unaccustomed to wearing the heels that bedecked my feet, I unsuccessfully navigated the fringed border between the rug and the carpet and fell flat on my ass. Not only did I fall, mind you, I landed in such a manner that a pine side table cupboard smacked into my head with a deafening crack. Yup, there I lay, Mrs. No-Longer-Dancing Fool. Awesome.

You would have thought a bomb had gone off. The room went silent and all heads turned my way. Hunky Husband, Knight in Shining Armor that he can be, rushed to my side, sure I had given myself a concussion whilst our worried hostess filled a gianormous Ziploc bag with ice, wrapped it in a towel, and literally ran across the room to me. I, in my goose-egg-growing state, didn’t really think it was that big a deal. Hey, I made it through the eighties and fell down plenty of times during that decade. Why the concern now?

Today, though, I have to admit I am feeling the effects of my misadventure. Due to our recent viewing of the “Johnny Cash Show” on DVD, a show which ran from 1969-1971, I am experiencing an obsession with hot rollers. That female keyboardist must have put at least five rats in her hair to get it to puff up that high and damned if for some insane reason I am totally wanting that look right now. We have two functions to attend today, a casual corned beef and cabbage luncheon at favorite neighbors Tom and Michelle’s followed by a New Year’s Day Open House at the Candee’s (I’m secretly hoping for shoes) and, no matter how much the pine-damaged portion of my head hurt, I was damned if I wasn’t going to put those rollers in my hair and shove those medieval torture sticks around them to hold them there. Beauty, albeit totally-retro-bordering-B-52’s beauty, before pain, dang it.

I will now end this tale of humiliation and woe. I hope, by sharing it, the rest of you feel just a wee bit better about yourselves and know, that no matter what you do, I alone am the fool on the floor.

Tomorrow, the revolution begins.

Happy Hogmanay

What a better occasion to re-enter the blog world, Hogmanay, yet another pagan holiday (mostly from the Scottish Highlands) usurped by humanity at large and made its own. Auld Lang Syne was adapted from a Robert Burns poem and the Times Square illuminated ball originated from the fireballs (contraptions of chicken wire, tar, and paper attached to ropes) marched through the streets on this night and swung high until cast into the harbor or other body of water. And yes, the crowds this custom gathered rivaled those in New York City (can anyone say New York City without thinking about that salsa commercial? I can’t.)

So Happy Hogmanay to everyone. May a handsome guest cross your threshold at midnight bearing gifts of salt, coal, shortbread, and whiskey. Feed him well and offer him great hospitality and the upcoming year shall be one of great fortune and health. Hey, I’ll try anything at this point.

Leap back one week and we find ourselves where I last left you, wishing you a Merry Christmas and unsure whether the tree would get decorated, the presents wrapped, or a holiday-worthy meal prepared. Well, it all happened somehow.
Somewhere in the fog of the 23rd and 24th, I pulled out my one anal retentive quality and trimmed the tree.

Felina was not happy about this. She was digging her new arboreal lifestyle. In retribution, she proceeded to break some of my ornaments. This is not a good thing, Martha. She received no turkey or plum pudding on Christmas Day even after she so insincerely meowed “God Bless Us Everyone” while balancing a crutch under one leg. The Poser.

Thankfully, my favorites made it (knock on wood). Papa Snowman taking his wee snowson on an adventure.

Our token black Santa (I mean this in all unseriousness)

Our heavily underbitten bulldog

And, of course, the dear wee baby Jesus, made by local Native American artisans.

We even have a pickle on the tree. It’s a Scandinavian good luck charm. I’ll hang ram nuts on the tree if it will bring us good luck.

The presents were wrapped as well, though their looks began to suffer as the Scotch tape began poisoning my bloodstream. I particularly loved it when, thinking I was finally finished, Hunky Husband plopped down his business associate gifts in front of me and looked at me imploringly. Yup, I wrapped them, too.

In the end, it was all worth it. Even the napkins I sewed (and no, I did not finish all three sets though I did fall asleep at the sewing machine trying) became holiday fodder.
No Christmas cracker hats for us, not when the opportunity to play pirate presents itself.

The best part? Watching the holiday through the eyes of a three-year-old whose excitement at opening each and every gift expanded upon itself until I thought he would bubble over. “My toys, my toys!” he shouted with glee. Even the pajamas and jacket he received were greeted with such joy that, at that moment, nothing could be more perfect.

Yes, Christmas offered me a memory strong enough to hopefully push back my sometimes glass-half-empty nature even when faced with illness and hardship and for that, I will be forever thankful. Granted, I am hoping the whole 2008-rhymes-with-great fortune is a true one and we will not endure another year like the one that just passed, at least farm-wise. We’d be plum out of livestock and then what would I call this mess I write?

Oh, and if you were wondering? Next Christmas, I'm leaning more toward Cordelia's way of celebrating the holidays. It would definitely cut down on the stress level.

Merry Christmas!

From all the critters at Rancho Laurena

Especially the human ones.

Have a wonderful holiday. I'll write again when I remember how to sit down.

A Bright, Bright Sunshiny Day

Today marks the beginning of a new era, a good era, filled with happy children and healthy farm animals and coyotes who know their place in the world, i.e. not in our farmyard. I feel it in my bones.

First of all, it is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day, light-speaking, of the year. For the next six months, it can only get brighter from here. I love those days when the light lingers far into the evening, bringing out the badminton set and the archery equipment. Not that I am good at either of those things, I am about as coordinated as an amoeba. No one stands anywhere near the target when a bow is in my hands for fear of looking like Steve Martin in his early stand-up routines. It’s still fun, though.

Today also marks Seinfeld’s “Festivus for the Rest of Us” so those of you who don’t participate in any of the myriad holidays that not-so-coincidentally fall at this time of year can pull out that aluminum pole, air your grievances, and display feats of strength. I’m a big believer in celebrating as many events as possible so, although we have no pole to set up (thankfully) and we air grievances on a daily eye-twitch-creating basis, we do have a family wrestling match which takes care of displaying those feats of strength (or weakness if one is referring to me). Hunky Husband always wins, of course, but he teases us enough to make us believe we could take him down before he puts the final kibosh on us all. Yup, not only is he handsome, the man is as strong as the proverbial ox.

The final and most convincing-to-me reason that a new positive era has begun happened early this morning as the Pint-Sized Farmer and I were doing our farm chores. (David is serving jury duty. When I told him he could probably get out of it, he told me it was his civic responsibility which made me feel like a gutter crumb for suggesting he skate in the first place. If you’re keeping track, that’s handsome, strong, and ethical. I did well.)

Pint and I were spreading scratch for the chickens, both astonished at how large the now-pullets-and-cockerels are getting, when one young bird looked right at me and crowed. It was a small crow, almost silent and very high-pitched, but it was a crow nonetheless. I haven’t heard one of those since the Great Coyote Massacre of 2007 and it was sweet music to my ears. Our little farm is reawakening to a better-than-ever time and I am blessed to be a witness to it. Once again, life is good.

Not Even a Towel

Let it be heard throughout the land; I’m taking the day off (as much as someone raising a three-year-old can do such a thing). We had a wonderful time last night and, although I am not the least bit hungover today (surprise!), I am tired and I don’t think I will even do one load of laundry. Yes, the washer and dryer deserve a day off, too; they’ve been working hard after all. People don’t have enough empathy where appliances are concerned.

The party favors were a hit. As you can see, they are nice silver framed ornaments anyone would be happy to hang on the family Christmas tree. We added a little gag though and took out the anonymous photos that came in the frames and replaced them with pictures of Jon and Curt, the CEO and President, respectively, of Jon Wayne Construction. Everyone got a chuckle out of it and Jon and Curt were particularly pleased that the photos turned back time ten or so years.

This is what they look like now. Jon and his always lovely wife, Teresa.

And Curt with his equally beautiful partner Jill. Honestly, I think they all look great, years, schmears.

When we arrived home, we found this lovely ornament in the mail. My amazingly talented mother-in-law Carolyn (remember Pint's quilt?) made the covering for the ornament on her fancy dancy embroidery machine. It now holds the proud honor of sole ornament on the tree. Thanks, Mom!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a day off to begin. Clean-the-refrigerator-out-stock-that-will-be-soup is spreading its homey scent throughout the house and a sofa and blanket are calling my name. What’s that? They’re getting lonely without me? Gotta go, I’d hate to upset the housewares.