Celia Chandler, Writer

View Original

I eat, I read, I watch — dining solo #5 - ramen (sort of)

Ramen at home

Today’s post is the 5th of “I eat, I read, I watch,” my monthly column highlighting one of my solo dinners and my reading or Netflix accompaniments. Please treat yourself well at mealtime too. Don’t just eat alone - dine solo! You’re worth it. And it’s not hard to do. Missed the earlier instalments? Click #1 (pork chop & green beans), #2 (trout & veg), and #3 (shrimp pepper bisque)., and #4 (rice & peas with coleslaw).

I eat: Ramen (frequently!)

I’ve eaten so much Japanese food that it’s become my comfort food. And none is as homey for me as ramen. So much so, I’ve taken to making versions of ramen at home. Not those packages. Gross. No, I’ve kicked it a tiny notch higher. Like this one.

Yesterday I bought a rack of ribs and cooked them in the slow cooker with an onion, some Persian spice rub, and a good dollop of fermented honey and garlic - a new addition to my pantry, and highly recommended. The ribs were great. But the leftovers are plentiful. Today I took care of some of them.

I started with making some broth. I had a chicken carcass from a store-bought BBQ version a few days ago. I threw it with water, some rib bones, a few of the fermented garlic from yesterday’s rib pot, a whole onion cut in half, two cloves of fresh garlic, and a cube of ginger into a pot, brought it to a boil, and then let it simmer for an hour. I strained it and threw out the depleted solids.

Then I pulled a piece of ramen noodles from the freezer and got it going in a pot of boiling water. At the same time, I put two chopped shiitake mushrooms and the meat from two ribs into a frying pan with a little rib fat. I heated up the broth and added a few frozen peas for colour. As the noodles were thawed and apart, I gently lowered a whole egg to poach in the liquid with the peas. When the egg was done, I drained the noodles, putting half into a large bowl, used a slotted spoon to bring the poached egg out of the broth, added the mushrooms and pork meat and drowned the whole mess in broth. I sliced a radish for colour, shot a little sriracha on top, and sprinkled a few sesame seeds on top.

Yum!

Prep Time:  75 minutes

Cost:  $5 at a guess?

Tell me about your comfort food.  In the Comments below please!

I read: Her Name was Margaret: Life and Death on the Streets

I first learned of Denise Davey, the Hamilton journalist behind this book, when she discussed her book, Her Name was Margaret, at GritLit 2021, Hamilton’s writers’ festival, one of many writing events I attended online during the pandemic. Davey’s talk served to shift my attention from the difficult time I was having in my own emotional and psychological life to the infinitely worse and more tragic one Davey chronicles.

Margaret Jacobson was born in 1944 and, as Davey describes, was a fairly typical young child. By age 18, however, she was hospitalized for psychiatric care and for 22 years, was the victim of the uncoordinated, damaging deinstitutionalization practices of Ontario’s psychiatric health care system. In 1985, she was ejected entirely from the hospital system, resulting in her experiencing homelessness until her death in a Hamilton sub shop a decade later.

The author met Margaret in 1993, managing to connect with her enough to learn her story first hand. After Margaret’s death, however, Davey gained access to hospital records and interviewed family, friends, and social workers to unearth the story behind the woman who died looking much older than her 51 years from the extraordinary challenges she’d experienced throughout her adult life.

Davey’s story should shock me more than it does. Housing provider clients I served for 17 years were full of tenants and co-op members who would be better served with supportive housing, or, in some cases, hospital care. I receive near-daily emails from desperate strangers seeking housing, and those are the ones who have access to the Internet, allowing them to find my email address. None of the co-ops in our association have open waitlists and even if they did, they wouldn’t provide the kind of support people like Margaret need. I see unhoused people in my own community, near my office, and in all other corners of the city. We have a severely under resourced system at all levels. While the move to deinstitutionalize psychiatric patients 50+ years ago may have started the trend, the last 30 years of neglect of our social services have exacerbated it. Margaret’s painful story is just one example.

Got a recommendation to read something tough but true? Add it to the Comments below.

I watch: Not soaps

On November 1, my dad would have turned 96.

Regular blog readers will know that Peter Chandler was not one to waste time. If he wasn’t milking cows, he was building an airplane in the basement, learning a new dance, writing a book on double-bass construction, building a house unassisted, or producing herbs and vegetables in quantities well in excess of the needs of a retired couple. When he did afford himself the luxury of sitting on the couch, he either had a book on his chest, or the remote control in his hand. And it was after 9 o’clock at night. Only the unproductive would ever have the TV on when it was daylight outside. Even that was only a later-in-life addition - guided by this strong productivity ethic, we didn’t have a television until 1981. If you’d like to read more about the impact of that deprivation, please check out my love letter to TV:  GenXers - this one’s for you - all 25 of you.

When dad died nearly 18 years ago, I wanted to emulate some characteristic in him so his legacy would live on in a direct way. While I had long-since given up the addiction of daily soap opera watching that characterized my university days, I was still a regular watcher of the Young and the Restless, the half-century-old US daytime drama that hangs on still while many of its competitors have been retired. I know people who follow the goings-on of Nicky, Ashley, Victor, Sharon, Phyllis, and the rest of the gang.

But it’s not for me. I decided to never watch the Y&R again. And I’m proud to say I haven’t.

Have you ever given up watching something for some principled reason? In the Comments below please!


If you like what you’re reading, there is no greater compliment than to become a subscriber. Sign up below with your email address to receive an email with my weekly blog.