Right away you need to know that according to a recent British study, this week’s French Fridays with Dorie recipe is numero uno of the top twenty foods we cannot pronounce. Tzatziki, a classic Greek cucumber-yogurt mix, even beats out Dauphinois, Gruyere and Mascarpone. My personal favorites, Gnocchi and Hors d’oeuvre, came in thirteenth and fourteenth.
Zat-ZEE-key. Pronouncing this word correctly has left me befuddled this week. That’s not all that’s left me befuddled, but let’s take one thing at a time……….
Although Tzatziki is easily thrown together, here are a few essential tips for its success. Use thick, creamy Greek yogurt, now easily found in your grocery store. After chopping, lightly salting your cucumbers and setting them aside for 30 minutes, drain, drain, drain. Dorie then suggests: Mixture – Towel – Twist – Squeeze. Tzatziki should NOT be zoupy!
After letting the flavors blend for a few hours or overnight, serve it cold. Although I used this as a dip with pita bread, sharing with the kids at the front desk, Tzatziki is versatile and dances with many partners. I know the other Doristas will have some great ideas this week but whether a spread, side, embellishment for meat and fish, or dip with crudities, this recipe is delicious.
Now let’s return to this befuddle business. Of the many adjectives which could be used to describe Me, flaky, distracted, flustered, addled and befuddled are not even in the mix. That’s what has me worried. People, it’s not good.
Last week, I went to my ophthalmologist appointment on a Friday morning only to be told I was scheduled for the following Monday. (And, yes, I asked, but the doctor was on vacation.) No big deal…… but his office is in Glenwood Springs, forty miles away. When I did return last Monday and parked my raincoat on the office coat rack, I left two hours later without it.
The next day I stopped at Colorado Mountain College to register for Fall classes. When I left the Registrar’s office, I also left behind my red leather calendar and notebook. My Life cannot function without my red leather calendar and notebook which, luckily, I retrieved the next day.
Wait, there’s more. I joined two friends for a wildflower hike this week. Because of our late-Spring rains, the flowers are gorgeous. As we were completing the hike, I pulled my car keys from my backpack and had them in hand. When we stopped to examine one last flower, pulling out our hand lens for a closer look, I obviously tossed my keys on the ground. And, didn’t retrieve them. Although the keys were quickly found, I was shaken. Losing car keys in the wilderness is a no-no.
Throw in two pair of forgotten glasses and this week has been a blockbuster. Unfortunately, this is not an anomaly. What makes me uncomfortable and, admittedly, embarrassed, is I don’t know when this wackiness will end? To my mind, I survived the past ten years. I did my best. Now I’ve luckily returned to this beautiful place that I call home where I’m safe and comfortable and surrounded by friends. Why go all dingy now?
My doctor recently cautioned me, “Mary, it may take two to three years.”
When she saw the look of sheer panic on my face, she quickly revised her prediction, “For you, I’m sure it will be quicker.”
Oh, yes, I’ve read Joan Didion’s Pulitzer Prize winning memoir, “The Year of Magical Thinking”, about her grief after the sudden loss of her husband. But Michael’s death wasn’t sudden. It was a decade-long, slow, heartbreaking, hopeless slog. And, therein may be the answer. When I returned to Colorado in April I resolved to be happy. Period. I embraced my passions and interests and was embraced, in turn, by my friends. It’s all working. But subconsciously, the grief and stress and fatigue of it all have decided to do their own jig and I can’t control their timeline.
This crazy part of myself has never surfaced before, so my solution, I’ve finally decided, is to laugh, keep calm and carry on. If it worked for the Brits, it might work for me.