A little chicken soup, please.

There is just something about soup on a cool day. I can't say a cold day because in Las Vegas it gets cool, but not really cold. Las Vegas cold is light jacket cold or midwestern spring cold. Nonetheless, a good soup is wonderful.

About 3 weeks ago JoAnn started making southwestern chicken soup, a recipe she asked for from the temple cafeteria. It is one of our favorites and the favorite of many others. We used that recipe for social recently and shared it with others. It sure was good. So good, in fact, we probably had it 10 plus times over the next 2 weeks, including a couple of times at the temple. Yes, our temple still has a cafeteria, and it is usually busy.

After 2 weeks of southwestern chicken soup I was ready for a change. So, last Monday I noticed we had some chicken in the refrigerator - just waiting for some soup to go with it. I know that JoAnn appreciates it when I come up with a recipe, so I dug out a crockpot cookbook and looked up chicken soup in the index. Sure enough, I found a great recipe titled Mediterranean chicken vegetable soup. I did a quick look, didn't recognize many of the ingredients, but figured JoAnn would. I even talked to her later in the day to make sure it was okay. It was. I stopped on the way home and got a loaf of French sough dough baguette. Okay, even I know French and sour dough should never be used in the same sentence, but that's what it said on the label. I was ready for dinner.

I got home, walked in and immediately smelled the wonderful soup. I was excited. While I fixed the bread JoAnn dished up the soup. The first thing I noticed was the absence of chicken. "Where is the chicken?" I asked.

"There isn't any chicken in this soup," replied JoAnn.

Of course I knew I was right, but how could JoAnn be wrong? "Sure there is. Let me see the recipe." Guess what? No chicken in the recipe. I know it called for chicken, so I looked in the index where I found it this morning. Is said "chickpea," not chicken.

"I don't understand, why don't they have a chicken soup in this recipe book? To which JoAnn responded, "Maybe because it is a vegetarian cookbook?"

duh…

We had chicken in the soup on Tuesday and it was still awesome.

Lazy Saturdays

It's approaching summer in Las Vegas. We can tell, the wind has died down a little bit and we teased 90 degrees today. It won't be long before a 90 degree day will be considered cool, but for now, it's still a little on the warm side.

Saturday is our day. It may get busy, like last week with graduation, but usually we can carve out several hours just for the two of us. For our kids with children, eat your hearts out. For us it is usually the best few hours of the week. We don't do anything spectacular, just get out and relax together. We might go shopping, like we did yesterday, followed by a lunch, and then home. Mostly it is about getting out together.

The day started early with me taking a friend to the airport at 6:30 am and then home to wake JoAnn up so she could help me out cleaning the chapel. By 9:30 am we were done and ready to do a little shopping at Bass Pro Shops (sorry Olaf). On the way home we decided to find a new restaurant a friend of ours opened up. We knew generally where it was, but not exactly. We did know the name so we trolled through a couple of strip malls until we found it. We were rewarded with a wonderful time and meal.

First, we were the only people there, which worried us a little, but it is still their soft opening (DW Bistro). We met with Bryce, the co-owner and our friend and had an enjoyable patio lunch. In fact the food was soooo gooood we have designated it as our new "favorite" restaurant. JoAnn had a DW Nicoise – pan-seared fresh tuna, olives, haricot verts, red & white potatoes, heirloom tomatoes, sliced egg, mango & Dijon champagne vinaigrette. It was a very tasty salad. And I had the DW BLT – stacked high, thick bacon, crispy shredded lettuce, tomato with chipotle mayo and they tell you when you order the bacon is Jalapeno bacon - and yes, it has a bite, but a good bite. The cook is from Jamaica and grew up in Albuquerque, so the food is unique. We were just so impressed with the food, how good the wait staff was, and the fact that Bryce spend an hour just visiting with us. Did I mention the fries were sweet potato fries - and they were really good!

But wait, it wasn't over. Bryce learned to cook scones when he lived in Ireland and he treated us to blueberry and raspberry scones that we thought were awesome. They were the lightest scones we had ever had. We will be taking our kids out to eat when they come. It's a great neighborhood restaurant and fits in with our other favorite, Frank and Fina's (Mexican where JoAnn gets the sweet potato enchilada)/

Papa's Car

Our 3rd daughter's youngest son calls me Papa and at almost 2.5 that's just fine with me. Truth is he could call me anything and I wouldn't care, as long as he knows I'm his grandpa and JoAnn is his grandma.


We had a lot of fun at our reunion (more on that in later blogs) in Breckenridge, CO and on Monday morning six families began departing for different parts of the mountain west and midwest. We left about 30 minutes before 3rd daughter's family and headed west down the mountain. I figured Grand Junction was a perfect place to get gas and maybe drop by a grocery store and grab a sandwich from a deli for lunch.

We pulled off the highway, got gas for the car and pulled back out into traffic. JoAnn asked where we are going and I said straight ahead (south on a city street) to look for something to eat. Just then the cell phone rang and it was daughter number 3. "Hey Dad we're going to Burger King for lunch."

"Where are you?"

"Right in front of you." And they were! While we were getting gas they had pulled of the highway and as we pulled out of the gas station they were turning left literally right in front of us. Had the light been different we would have missed them.

"How did you see us?"

"I didn't, little Deano said, 'There's Papa's car.' And when I looked it really was you."

So we had a bonus coming home, we got to spend extra time with one of our families.

The Critics Review is In

I just returned from Spanish Fork and Boise where we spent time with children, grandchildren, and the newest grandchild of all - little Charlotte. That is one of the great experiences of being a grandfather.

Since we had some free time (me, not JoAnn) I took Suzanne, the 4 kids, and Mike (our son) to lunch on Tuesday. The girls were all up for McDonald's, but I didn't drive all the way to Boise for a big Mac. So I selected a downtown restaurant, with Mike' help, that is a fast-food Mexican, I enjoy. So we went.

Later in the afternoon daughter Jeni called to say she had received an email from Suzanne's oldest daughter, Ellen, describing lunch, and it was a classic...

"Grandpa took us to lunch today. It was no fun!"

Okay, from now on I will stick to fast food restaurants with play areas. My lesson is learned.

Melted Malted Milk Ball Mountain

Yesterday was exciting at our house. Colorado daughter called and wanted to make sure we checked the mail. We are getting older, but JoAnn lives for all those adds we get in Las Vegas - NOT! Our recycle is full every week. This time, however, Colorado daughter said my Father's Day Present should arrive today! I was excited, especially since I had no idea what it was.

JoAnn went down, checked the mail and came back with a box. She started to very carefully open it and I had zero patience at that point. Of course I was still on drugs from my procedure that afternoon (and there will be NO blogs on that) so I can try to excuse myself. I asked for the package and promptly got it open. Material? I got material for Father's day? Talk about disappointed. But wait, there was a box in the box. I pulled it out and it was wrapped (see the photo) and I could tell what it was. The shape of a malted milk balls box is distinctive and anything chocolate is a sure hit. I opened it up, pulled out some soft milk balls. Gave JoAnn a couple and popped a couple in my mouth. No crunch, just sort of a squish-crunch.

Wait a minute, there was no rattle when I shook the box. Think Daniel, think. Oh, summer, 90 plus degrees, sitting in a hot mailbox and probably in a hot mail truck, and who knows where else? Now what do we do? I am not throwing away perfectly good malted milk balls. Into the refrigerator. Results - A Melted Malted Milk Ball Mountain. Okay a Square Melted Malted Milk Ball Mountain. Too bad I didn't take photos of me carving the mountain to get to the milk balls. At this point the appropriate term is probably malted milk slices. Who knows, maybe I have hit on something. Probably not, the FDA would surely find something wrong with it. However it does spawn creativity.