Workers Unite! And I start cooking.

So apparently transit strikes are a semi-regular thing around here. So regular that it barely deserved a mention to Embassy employees. But without having a car here yet, it was a bit of a Big Deal this morning. James tried to get a cab to no avail. The buses wouldn’t be running until 9 and the Metro wouldn’t run until 10. So we got the pleasure of daddy’s company this morning…he even walked us to the bus stop. Liam’s bus was unaffected, thankfully. But James had to find the bus that goes all the way to the Embassy, and hope it didn’t take too long or get too crowded to board. I can’t wait to hear all about his transit adventures when he gets home!

I had my own challenges at home today. I labelled all of the foreign appliances so I can stop referring to the manuals (or just hitting buttons and guessing). Thanks, Kelly, for the excellent suggestion! My new translating app came in handy with the dishwasher, which didn’t have a manual.

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The translation of the dial on the left was pretty accurate except for the last one, which translated as “Pale.” Hmmmm…pale as it pertains to dishwashing…I’m going to go with “gentle.” I’m just realizing here I misspelled it, “gentile”… Not Jewish will also work, heh.

I examined the oven manual, and I think I’ve got that down enough to make tonight’s dinner. I’m marinating some chicken I bought at the butcher yesterday, and I’m going to attempt to make these black eyed peas that I happened to see in a bag on a shelf at said butchers. My dad always makes these for New Year’s dinner, so I had to google how to cook them. Crap, you have to soak them for 8 hours?

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Into the bowl they go. It won’t be quite 8 hours at this rate, but hopefully close enough. The Embassy provided us cooking bowls in our welcome kit…two stupidly small ones, and one GARGANTUAN one. I’m really appreciative of all this stuff they gave us (which we have to give back when our stuff gets here, including the toaster and the crib), but I’m also kind of starting to hate it now, too. Weird bowls, ineffectual pot holders, one bath mat, no dish soap or trash bags. But I digress…

When Violet awoke from her nap, we headed to the “super” market by our house to pick up a few provisions. The produce seemed much better this time, which was reassuring. I got what one can reasonably assume is chicken bouillon.

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The directions are all in greek, but I’m sure my iPhone and I can make heads or tails of it. I also picked up some frozen…rolls?

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Inspection of the back revealed descriptions and directions in about 20 different languages, including English. “Traditional puffed pastry with Feta cheese.” Shhh…I’m not gonna tell Liam there’s cheese in this. He won’t even know the difference. I hope.

And, of course, I had to pick up something to drink.

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Lefko krasi, parakalo! I have yet to need that phrase, but I’ve got it in my back pocket just in case.

I’m sort of winging the black eyed peas recipe. My dad’s has bacon and mushrooms in it, and most of the recipes call for simmering it in chicken stock for an hour or so. I’ll get to try out the whole double oven thing, broiling marinated chicken in one and baking frozen bread in the other. An ambitious first meal, ambitious for me, at any rate. Check back later (probably late afternoon for most of you) and I’ll post a little update below.

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I made some damn fine black eyed peas if I do say so m’self. Not bad for a recipe I pretty much made up. I put in bacon and mushrooms like my dad does, boiling them with chicken bouillon. Soaking them for about 5 hours turned out to be plenty, and I cooked them for about an hour and a half. Liam liked them…that was the only thing he liked. Oh, this kid! He decided he didn’t want the chicken (which is the same chicken recipe we make at home and he’s loved eating it like a thousand times!!!), and there was no getting cheese in the pastry past him. I tried to tell him it was like a cream-filled donut, except the cream was salty instead of sweet. Didn’t even say the ch-word. But he wasn’t having it. I thought they were delicious, so I ate his and mine.

Oh, and the wine is delicious, too. Made in Greece, it says. But not from pine nuts.

 

One thought on “Workers Unite! And I start cooking.

  1. Pingback: Year one in Athens – Greece is the Word

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