Since Michael is not diabetic, I sometimes make him a side of potatoes to go with what ever protein and veggies that I cook at dinner time. A couple of years ago while trying to wean him off potatoes (purely selfish reason, they were tempting to me), I found that he doesn’t like mashed cauliflower or mashed turnips. I eventually gave up trying to persuade him and hadn’t really thought about it in a long time.
While I’ve been enjoying “A Dance With Dragons”, I have nearly finished it. Just yesterday I got to the part where Cersei has just confessed her sins and was “rewarded” with a larger cell and a dinner of roasted capon and “neeps swimming in butter”. As a big fan of butter, I tend to be intrigued by anything swimming in the lovely melty goodness that is real butter, so I googled neeps and found turnips, game on.
I had set to thaw a pork shoulder roast, one of the few remaining that came from the bacon seeds we grew, and thought to myself that if I leave the peelings on the potatoes I could tell them from the turnips, besides, how much starch could they leach?
Before picking up May from school, I stopped at the store for some celery, carrots, onions, and the turnips. By the time I finished washing and peeling, I realized I had forgotten to grab a potato from the bin. Looking at the clock and then outside, I thought about how washing and cutting a couple of potatoes would seriously cut into the amount of daylight left and my practice time, so oops, no potatoes.
The cut carrots, celery, onions, and turnips were already in the foil lined pan, with a bit of butter, salted and peppered. I quickly seared the roast on both sides and plopped it on top, carefully pouring the drippings over it and the veggies, then closing up the foil, popped it in a 400° oven, and reduced the temperature to 350°.
With less than an hour of sunlight left, I grabbed my chopsticks, a target, my crossbow, and my pull cord. I shot my three bolts, retrieved them, and shot them again. Since Sir Hotness told me that I couldn’t use the deck railing as a prop forever, I practiced prop-less. Another thing he has been teaching me is to “follow the bolt”, which means I look for the hole in the target and see where I’ve hit, as I hit it. I did just that with each shot, and prior to retrieving again, I counted up six holes and Biscuit and I set off down the yard.
Time to time, a bolt goes through the hay bales and is poking up out of the yard, but most of the time, the bolts are poking out of the hay and I pull them through. On the way down the yard, I figured I had sunlight enough for a couple more practice rounds, before I found out I had a problem.
Only two bolts were sticking out of the hay bales, so I walked around behind them, but there was no third bolt. “Oh my goodness, I’ve lost a bolt” I thought as I started walking around, looking at the ground, then at the chickens, none had squawked, so I seriously doubted that one was running around with my bolt sticking out. I scanned the trees, low, because there was no way it would have come out of the hay and launched itself higher.
I went back up to the deck with my two bolts, wondering how I would tell His Hotness that I lost an arrow, a little nervous, not that he’d get mad, but that I’d have to do more retrieving and less shooting next practice. I used my scope to scour the yard, nada. By this time, darkness had all but fallen, and I told Biscuit, just one more quick search.
This time I brushed my feet side to side and low and behold a little poky, the back inch of the bolt was the only thing sticking out of the dirt, it had gone pert near underground, no wonder we couldn’t find it. I dug it up and gathered my stuff.
Dinner had really started smelling good by the time I came inside. Shortly thereafter, his hotness got home and asked what was for dinner. I told him roast with veggies and cabbage. Then I told him about the lost arrow that was now found. Over dinner I asked about his day, it was good, and he asked about the rest of mine.
He’s not a big fan of roasts, so when he said “this is good”, I smiled. I noticed he had eaten veggies too, and he must have sensed me scanning his plate. “These potatoes are really good too, did you taste them?” he asked and I said “Actually, they aren’t potatoes, they are neeps.” and proceeded to tell him about Cercei’s neeps swimming in butter and how this dinner was a tribute to King Robert Baratheon, but I used one of Bubba’s sisters roasts instead of wild boar, and somewhere along the way told him that he knew the neeps as turnips. (Normally by that point he is finished eating, especially if said food is something he normally doesn’t like, but he finished eating, turnips and all)
May also enjoyed the dinner, though after cleaning her plate she said she didn’t. Teenagers. She also told me she needed regular sausage balls for the band’s Christmas party, so I made them the regular way that I make them without flour or bisquick. (my recipe is here: https://mydiabetesandme.wordpress.com/2013/08/28/low-carb-sausage-balls/ ) We are out of sausage from our pig, so I bought some mild sausage. She tried one and decided they were “regular” and was pleased.
I ate a few pieces of carrot with my dinner. I didn’t get all weirded out, but they were so sweet. I do not remember roasted carrots being so sweet. (My taste buds have changed) I didn’t have enough strips to do postprandial testing, but my fasting this morning was 98.
I didn’t get my strips yesterday. I exercised patience by hitting the bags, the weights, and replenishing the firewood in the basement, to keep from calling the pharmacy every hour with my inquiry. If I don’t hear from them by this afternoon, I am going to call, if nothing again today, I’m just going to buy a generic meter that comes with a few strips. I really should have a back up meter anyways.