I didn't have a proper pan for them, so I had to improvise with what I had. There's a Claim Jumper pie tin that has been coming very much in handy long after the original pie that came in it is just a memory. It's been used heavily for everything from cinnamon rolls to shortbreads to quiche. The remaining rolls went into my Dollar Tree 8 x 8 pan.
Nobody seemed like they were in the mood to fire up the charcoal grill this evening in order to cook the filet mignons we have waiting, and last night was mac n' cheese, or "KD" (for Kraft Dinner), as my kara amika from Canadia calls it. We decided that we had to have KD in KD, so last night we did. Kara Biela felt the need to put ketchup on hers, which in my opinion gives it a rather lurid traffic accident look.
In any event, we didn't want pasta two nights in a row, so I slammed together an Impossible Pie, one of those Bisquick inventions that is fast and satisfying, if not entirely healthy. It came out beautifully. We didn't have any green veggies, so I didn't quite make a passing grade on the healthy plate test. I did the best I could with some carrots.
Check out the kicky napkins they brought me back from the bargain bin at Von's after a recent shopping trip in Brawley. They fit the goofy, seventies vibe that sometimes seems to seep from KD's walls.
The Impossible Pie (made with bacon bits dating back to Burning Man 2011) came out great, but I had a couple of bad moments when the too-full pie tin slopped over and began burning on the hot oven surface, and then I realized I'd forgotten that all-important top garnish of cheese and tried to pull the rack out to correct that, nearly spilling the whole works entirely. Then I couldn't get the rack back in. It was a moment when the happy-housewife veneer was definitely cracking, and I didn't have any valium to complete the motif. Instead I reminded myself to Remain Calm and Carry On, and in the end the little bit of smoke from burning cheese and egg concoction was whisked away by KD's efficient vent fan (powered by her awesome batteries that were in turn charged up by the sun!), and the final product was perfect.
Finally, I'd also suggested strawberry shortcake as a way to deal with the big container of strawberries bought a few days ago in El Centro. Once again the pie tin came to the rescue, and the oven turned out perfect shortbreads to be served still warm with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. My only picture sucks, and fellow bloggist Biela has promised to send me the picture she took of her portion before she demolished it, so I'll hopefully I'll be able to update that soon.
In other, non-food news, the nearby Chocolate Mountain Aerial Gunnery Range is just across the Coachella Canal from us, and for the first time we are experiencing it in an active phase.
Since the holidays are over, this is a regular work week for the Navy and Marines who use it to train. A couple of days ago it sounded like a heavy fire fight was going on, until lunch time when everything stopped. This morning there were some real rip-snorters, detonations that shook the trailer and made the unwary jump. Enormous, ripping booms that rippled out over the desert. It is exciting and scary at the same time. Slabbers are used to this sort of thing, but I can say that I've never been so close to so much explosive force and flying hot lead as these last few days. Let me emphasize here that the range is literally just across the canal (which is just on the other side of the road from us). We are only yards away from the boundary, although what we were hearing was probably considerably further off. I am told that some Navy SEAL training takes place here. Listening to the long, furious firing of automatic weapons allowed to gallop at full tilt, presumably running some battle scenario that the senior warriors reasonably expect they might encounter some day, is deeply sobering. Train on, men. We silly campers are depending on you to guard us and keep us.
This activity starts early in the morning, so that as I am sleepily opening my eyes to the first warm, rosy light of the new sun coming in through the curtains, I know that the soldiers practicing their craft have been up before light and are well into their work day. That's when I usually put a pillow over my head and roll back to sleep.
Tonight I continue to hear jets overhead and off in the distance, some kind of firing intermittently continues in the dark.
The final note of the night was an exciting fun-with-propane moment. I was doing the last batch of dishes for the night. Cooking creates dishes, and so I've been spending a lot of time at the sink. I can feel Kenny's disapproving spirit peering over my shoulder, shaking his head and muttering that I should be using all paper plates and pans from the Dollar Tree which can be thrown out when too dirty to wipe clean with a paper towel. That was part of his tutelage last year, when he patiently explained to me what I was doing wrong by being up to my elbows in dish water so much of the time. But no matter, he did not fully understand that doing dishes is part of playing house, that it soothes me to once again be doing little domestic tasks in my own home, even if it is on wheels at the moment.
Tonight, however, I noticed that the rinse water was lukewarm. That was odd, since the hot water is hot enough to scald, usually. And then, as it grew progressively colder, I realized that the problem was what I had been half expecting for the last few days. We had finally run through the tank of propane. Good thing I got the guys who were out here delivering a few days ago to refill the other tank. Ordinarily I would have left it to deal with in the morning, but my campers are going to make a trip to Mexico to the pharmacy in Algodones where many snow birds get their prescriptions filled. It is a place to get prescription drugs at far below the regular cost here in the states. I don't have my passport together, so I can't go with them, but Biela will want a hot shower before she hits the road. They will try for an early start, and nobody is going to be in the mood to fool with changing propane tanks in the predawn darkness and cold.
So I fetched my campers back from their rig before they had quite gone to bed, and we changed tanks with only a little minor difficulty, and proceeded to relight the water heater. Having done it once already, I was feeing confident enough to dispense with the part of the instructions that direct you to turn everything off and wait five minutes to let the accumulated gas dissipate in the burn chamber. Since I had clearly run out of propane, I reasoned there would be no more gas left, so didn't see the need to wait that pesky five minutes. We relit the pilot light, then turned the control to the full on position. The burner lit with a WHOOMP and a BANG, and a jet of flame shot out of the back of the burn chamber six inches and straight at my midsection.
JEEZUS! I yelled, leaping back. Biela nearly convulsed herself, she laughed so hard. I guess I'll wait that five minutes next time.
That was funny... I'm still laughing! :-)
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