And Now, a Word From Yisha Trearwood

Welcome to Val's blog this evening. She was gracious enough to let me take over just this once. Actually, she was kind of out of commission, and I can't help but feel responsible. Val is a fan of mine, you see. Not so much a music fan, though we all know I have a phenomenal set of pipes. No, Val is more of a cooking show fan. Not that she cooks. But not everyone who watches those home remodel shows remodels homes, either. Anyway, Val likes to watch my show, Yisha's Below the Mason-Dixon Line Cookshack.

Therein lies the problem. On Saturday, and again last evening, Val saw the show where I made my delicious Chicken Broccoli Casserole. We all know that Val is more of a warm things in the microwave (with TWO handles!) or heat them up in the oven (now with two WORKING elements!) kind of gal. But nothing would do her but to try my fantastic recipe. C'mon. Thevictorians can't live by broccocaulipeppot alone, you know.

So Val gathered her ingredients, and boiled up her big fat chicken breasts yesterday, and shredded them last night so they'd be ready for cooking this evening. In the meantime, she got to thinking how maybe her mayonnaise that has been opened and in Frig II for several months, which expires on June 6, might need to be replaced before trying my fabulous recipe. And since she was going to the store anyway, she decided to pick up some shredded cheddar, because after shredding those big fat breasts, Val was in no mood to wrestle the cheese grater. It may be one of the few times Val has stifled an opportunity to cut the cheese. Since she was already picking up mayonnaise and cheese, Val decided to get some fresher sour cream as well. Oh, and since she was already stopping for mayonnaise and cheese and sour cream, Val figured she might as well grab a lemon, because we all know she had none of that fresh fruity stuff in her homestead.

Once she got home, Val set to heating her oven to 400 to pop in a DiGiorno for The Pony, because he's not an adventurous eater, and he needs his leftovers to take in his lunch for two days while he does his A+ tutoring with kindergarteners. Then Val was caught up in the whirlwind that is my Chicken Broccoli Casserole. She was blanching and ricing and buttering and dolloping and grinding and sprinkling like a fiend. An absolute fiend!

When Val called The Pony upstairs for his pizza, she said, "I feel like a surgeon in the middle of an operation. I wish I had somebody to dab my brow to keep the sweat from running into my eyes." To which The Pony responded, hesitantly, with a couple of false starts, "Do you want me to get a paper towel and dry your sweat?" Val let him off the hook. She figured she'd done enough damage all those times she declared she was tired of holding his balls, or told him to grab his brother's package. So she just shook her head, flinging sweat beads like a Golden Retriever spraying pond droplets after fetching a duck. "No. I was just saying."

Val nearly dislocated an elbow folding all those ingredients together. But she got 'er done! After 40 minutes of heating-up time, that casserole was ready for consumption. I overheard Hick declare that it was tasty, but Val begged to differ, saying that it needed something. Well. Of course she left out that hot sauce that I add to mine. I can only do it when my friends drop in to cook with me in my Cookshack. That's because my famous husband does not like the spicy. Maybe you've heard of him: Barth Grooks. He used to sell a few records, way back when folks still bought records.

Now let's give the floor back to Val. She looks like she'd about to collapse on it anyway.

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Huh. That Yisha Trearwood sure is long-winded. I'm not sure what to think of her. But I'll tell you one thing. You need to read the fine print on her recipes. Okay. It's all the same size print. But pay attention! You may think it only takes a few minutes to throw together, like Yisha does on her show. But NO! You have to make your preparations way ahead of time. It's like a full-time job, cooking. Which is not something Val wants to do after coming home from her full-time job. And it seems a little bit unfair to spend 2 hours and 50 minutes making something that The Pony only nibbles, and Hick polishes off in five minutes. Not to mention all those dishes that clamor for a washin'.

Let's just say that if you end up sweating more than a marathoner on her 25th mile during a July 4th race in Atlanta...YOU'RE WORKING TO DANG HARD TO MAKE THAT MEAL!

Excuse me. I am off to rehydrate by hooking up a homemade IV with a knitting needle and the tube that dispenses cold water out of the freezer door of Frig II.