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RECIPE: Roasted Vegetable Pie

2010-02-12T07:36:00.001-05:00

Makes: 6 servings

Prep: 25 minutes
Bake: at 450 degrees F for 45 minutes; at 425 degrees F for 30 minutes
Cook: 1 minute

Ingredients

1 small cauliflower, cut into florets, about 4 cups
1 small butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
2 medium parsnips, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 cup baby carrots
1 sweet red pepper, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 cup vegetable broth
1 tablespoon cornstarch
3/4 teaspoon dried thyme
3/4 teaspoon dried oregano
2 tablespoons plain bread crumbs
1 package (15 ounces) refrigerated rolled piecrusts
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
1 egg beaten with 1 tablespoon water

1. Heat oven to 450 degrees F. Coat a large baking pan with nonstick cooking spray.

2. In a large bowl, add cauliflower, squash, parsnips, carrots and pepper. Toss with olive oil and 1/4 teaspoon each of the salt and pepper. Spread out on the baking pan in a single layer. Bake at 450 degrees F for 30 minutes, stirring halfway.

3. Meanwhile, place the broth in a medium-size saucepan and stir in the cornstarch. Bring to a boil, lower heat and simmer 1 minute until thickened. Stir in the thyme, oregano and remaining salt and pepper. In a large bowl, gently toss roasted vegetables, bread crumbs and sauce.

4. Fit one of the piecrusts into a deep-dish 9-inch pie plate. Sprinkle 1 tablespoon of the cheese over the bottom. Spoon in vegetable mixture and sprinkle with remaining 1 tablespoon cheese. Place the second piecrust on top and crimp crusts together. Pierce a few times with a paring knife to vent. Brush lightly with the egg-water mixture.

5. Bake at 450 degrees F for 15 minutes. Lower heat to 425 degrees F and bake for an additional 30 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool slightly before slicing.

Nutrition Facts

Servings Per Recipe 6 servings
Calories 467,
Total Fat (g) 25,
Saturated Fat (g) 9,
Cholesterol (mg) 50,
Sodium (mg) 729,
Carbohydrate (g) 56,
Fiber (g) 7,
Protein (g) 8,
Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet

Recipe: Slow-Cooked South Carolina Pulled Pork

2010-02-10T11:57:00.001-05:00

The Washington Post, January 14, 2009

• Course: Main Course

• Features: Slow Cooker, Make-Ahead Recipes, Gluten-Free

Summary:

This recipe can be made in a 4- to 5-quart slow cooker.

There's no smoke involved, but this has a pit-barbecue taste nonetheless. Brown the pork in the morning, combine it with the other ingredients in the slow cooker and let it go for 6 to 10 hours on LOW. You'll be rewarded with tender, juicy pork perfect for sandwiches.

MAKE AHEAD: The recipe works best when the pork is seasoned, wrapped and refrigerated overnight. The cooked pork freezes well, for up to 3 months.

Serve with coleslaw, if desired, and large, soft rolls.

6 servings

Ingredients:

• 1 tablespoon onion salt

• 2 tablespoons sweet Hungarian paprika

• 1/4 cup packed light brown sugar

• 2 teaspoons chili powder

• 1/2 teaspoon ground allspice

• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

• 2 1/2 pounds boneless pork shoulder

• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil

• 3/4 cup apple cider vinegar

• 2 teaspoons hot pepper sauce, such as Tabasco

Directions:

Combine the onion salt, paprika, 1 tablespoon of the brown sugar, the chili powder, allspice and black pepper in a medium mixing bowl. Reserve 1 tablespoon of the spice mix; rub the remaining spice mix all over the pork. Wrap the pork in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 1 hour or overnight.

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the pork and cook, turning to brown it on all sides; this will take about 16 minutes. Transfer to a 4- to 5-quart slow cooker.

Add the vinegar, the reserved tablespoon of the spice mix and the remaining 3 tablespoons of brown sugar to the skillet; as the mixture begins to boil, use a wooden spoon or spatula to dislodge any browned bits on the bottom of the skillet. Transfer the mixture to the slow cooker.

Cover and cook on LOW for 6 to 10 hours, until the pork is fork-tender.

To serve, remove the pork from the cooker and cut it into 1/2-inch-thick slices, then use 2 forks to shred the slices into bite-size pieces.

Add the hot pepper sauce to the liquid in the cooker, then return the pork and any accumulated juices to the cooker and toss to coat with the liquid. Serve warm, or keep warm for up to several hours.

Recipe Source:

Adapted from "Art of the Slow Cooker," by Andrew Schloss (Chronicle, 2008).

551 calories, 43g fat, 14g saturated fat, 134mg cholesterol, 916mg sodium, 8g carbohydrates, 1g dietary fiber, n/a sugar, 32g protein.

Tested by Candy Sagon for The Washington Post.
E-mail the Food Section at food@washpost.com with recipe questions.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland...

2010-02-08T09:59:00.001-05:00

Bay Weekly: My Friend Mr. Boy

2010-01-17T09:05:00.000-05:00

A tale of a cat born to the Bay
by Sandra Olivetti Martin, Bay Weekly editor

Bay Weekly gave Mr. Boy his happy home.

Not that we were happy to see him. He came at a bad time, and his arrival was bad news. The neighbor who delivered him has not lived down his bad name, though 161⁄2 years have passed since he turned up at our door with a Pennzoil box full of kitties.

“Are these your cats?” asked Jack Brumbaugh, the kind-hearted artist across the street who noticed the squirming box atop the right front fender of Bay Weekly’s white Chevy Suburban.

In the Beginning

The Suburban was new — to us — bought to carry New Bay Times to distribution spots from Severna Park to Solomons. We were proud of that big old truck, and had a sign painter emblazon it with our fledgling paper’s name. That sign must have read good homes for abandoned kitties to the scoundrel who left the Pennzoil box on the New Bay Times Suburban outside our house.

In August 1993, everything was new at New Bay Times, as Bay Weekly was named at birth. We were four months old, and we’d published nine issues since our premier edition on April 22, Earth Day. Getting the paper out every two weeks — our original publication schedule was fortnightly — we felt like Atlas hoisting the Earth.

Workdays at our office stretched past midnight. When we finally went home, we filled my house like the fairytale home of the old woman who lived in the shoe.

For husband Bill Lambrecht and I ran the Bay Weekly rooming and boarding house for family and friends who had joined us to make a newspaper from nothing more than wordsmithing credentials, determination and the family fortunes, small as those might be.

Son J. Alex Knoll, who evolved into our chief operating officer, came with his new journalism master’s degree from the University of Illinois. Three more 20-somethings came to do something as exciting as it was enterprising. From Illinois with hopes and baggage, they overflowed our once-upon-a-time beach cottage. We had two bathrooms, but finding a sleeping spot to call his own — away from the snores of the others — drove poor Bob into a tent in the yard.

The animal household was pretty full, too. With Alex came Kali, a big black kitty who’d been born right down the street, though she’d grown up in Illinois as a college cat. Her brother, Corker, another big black guy, was our top cat and got to boss around another brother-sister pair, gifts from another neighbor: sweet-tempered Clapper, an orange tabby; and gray tiger-striped Zulu. Her offspring made five.

The cat pressure was so intense that Corker, normally a mild cat, had sent Kali to the vet, who’d sent home a patched-up kitty and a big bill.

Corker must have attacked when the sheriff wasn’t looking. That would be our 100-pound yellow Lab, Max, who loved order and did no wrong, though he took up plenty of space.

That’s the family who was at, or underneath, the Saturday morning breakfast table when neighbor Jack knocked at the door.

Jack had been welcomed in before he spoke, or else Boy might have been his cat instead of ours. Had we known what Jack had in his box, we’d have locked the door.

Lucky 13

“Of course those aren’t our cats,” I shrieked.

By then a white head had pushed through the folded top of the Pennzoil box and a kitten had struggled out. As he leapt free, he landed on the breakfast table. We’d been eating pancakes, and he’d landed in a plate streaked with syrup. Glaring at us, the tiny white creature licked his feet clean. Then he licked the plate.

Thus Boy became the lucky 13th member of the Bay Weekly founding household.

Which is why Boy isn’t one of the four adorable kittens pictured on New Bay Times’ cover for the week of August 12, 1993. Those four kitties still needed homes. So neighbor Sonia Linebaugh, another of the original New Bay Times team, recruited a pair of neighbor girls and posed them on her porch with arms full of kitties. We advertised in our classifieds and twisted arms, and all found homes.

As the little girls grew into women and New Bay Times into Bay Weekly, Boy made Top Cat.

Top Cat

If I’m to tell the truth — and this story is as true as I can make it — Boy grew only in size, into a light heavyweight in fighting trim. As for character, he popped out of that Pennzoil box fully formed.

Other kittens had cowered for days, under the bathroom sink or in the deep, dark recess between kitchen cabinets.

Not this hellion. Room to room and corner to cupboard, he investigated every space and claimed his favorites.

Even as a little bit of a thing, Boy slapped the face of every cat in the house. He arched his back and hissed, no sniffing, at Max the humongous Lab, in whose dinner bowl Boy could have fit as a snack. So bold was that kitten that he’d hold the huge dog at bay while he sampled his dinner.

Eventually, Boy would curl up for a nap with Max, and later Moe, nearly identical. Never did he seek out the company of the other cats. He’d fisheye them, and he might take their place as soon as they moved. He’d often box them on the side of the head or sneak a bite of their flank on passing, but he never exactly brutalized them.

Boy never lost his cool, not even years later when a new cat came out of the woods into our home. He was expedient, not emotional. Why bother with violence when he’d made his point?

The Kitty in the Kitchen

Boy sealed his dominance by proclaiming himself king of the mountain. The mountain in our house is the kitchen cat-food counter. The view is good, food is served there, and, if a cat perseveres, he can often claim it for hours before getting swept away by the keeper of the kitchen. Boy persevered. From his summit, he might hook me with a claw to urge me to get on with fixing his breakfast, lunch or dinner. I’d scold him, wagging my finger. Chastised, he’d avert his eyes. When I turned, he hooked me again.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks. High among Boy’s many pleasures was food.

The opening of a new bag of cat food would bring him from any room, waken him from any but the final, deepest sleep. Bill played the bag like an instrument, and Boy responded like a music lover. He’d leap solidly onto the cat-feeding counter, purring. Then he’d rub against Bill and stick his head in the big storage container as the nuggets rained on him.

Of canned cat food, Boy was a connoisseur. He also grew into a skilled shopper. Bored over the hours we were away at work — journalists always keep long hours; that’s one of the lessons I’ve learned in 17 years at Bay Weekly — Boy would read the newspaper circulars. Then he’d call Bill on his cell phone to report the best price on his favorites. Or at least that’s what Bill says. When Bill came home and unbagged the cans, Boy watched in satisfaction.

Cats aren’t much for facial expression. They don’t smile like dogs or frown like humans. But you could read Boy’s pleasure in the nod of his head, the measured closing of his eyelids. And in his behavior when he didn’t get what he wanted.

He’d grab your arm and holler.

Since his first act of landing in the syrup — real maple syrup — he’d known that humans save the best food for themselves. Unless a wily cat cons them out of it.

We were easily conned. When Bill filleted a rockfish or perch, Boy got the scraps. When Bill opened oysters, Boy got a share. The share got ever bigger. “I’ve fed him a dozen oysters on the half shell,” Bill admits. If you were eating blue crabs outside, Boy would have to be inside. This was a cat in harmony with the Bay and its bounty.

Fish was great, but Boy was no piscatarian. Cut up a chicken or trim beef, and Boy was at your side, reaching up with a claw. Mairrwwwww, he’d say. Cut up your pork chop at dinner, and he’d somehow stretch high enough to claw at your fork. At vegetarian meals, he’d settle for cheese or bread or pizza crust. Sometimes all three. If a bowl of cereal was being eaten, he’d demand the sweet milky dregs. But he outgrew milk early in life and soon demanded cream in his personal crockery.

Ruler of All He Surveyed

As Boy grew, he extended his habitat. In the front yard, he’d sit under the bushes where he could look into the house, at the birdfeeders (television, as far as he was concerned) and into foreign territory.

He was on guard the day Salty showed up. The neighborhood scrounge, Salty might sneak into the basement and make off with a boot. But he was a fun pooch so that nobody much cared. Except Boy, who caught him nosing the compost trench. Like demons, he hurled himself at Salty claws forward, attaching himself to the yipping, fleeing trespasser.

Bright as Boy was, only snow gave him camouflage. He glowed under moonlight on the beach, where he followed on dog walks. On his first visit, he watched the Bay a long time, from the top of the cliff. When he finally came down, he rolled in the sand, rushed at shadows and climbed trees. He often returned, but never touched the water.

Because everybody could see him coming, reports of his lone adventures returned to us.

“He watches my birds, drinks their water and sleeps on my deck,” reported neighbor Farley.

“He swaggers down the hill to taunt my cats,” complained neighbor Lee, rolling her shoulders in imitation of his bully walk.

At the Fausts’, he played Goldilocks. Entering by the cat door, he ate their cats’ food and slept in their beds.

Every cat in Fairhaven Cliffs hid when Boy was coming, and probably some possums and raccoons did, too. Inside or out, I’ve never seen Boy yield ground — or seen either cat or dog dare to attack him.

The mockingbirds were another story. Boy’s ears were pocked with scars from being dive-bombed by a species as willful as he.

Brains as well as brawn (I’d say balls, but Boy lost his at an early age) kept him safe. He seemed to learn from the experience of other cats, accumulating wisdom. Boy didn’t travel the busy road that borders Fairhaven — as if he heard the screams of all the cats that had died there.

Close to a dozen cats had lived in our home before Boy. Only he figured out how to enter and exit by the huge maple tree outside our third-floor bedroom window.

Tunaffection?

Only 41 percent of us say we really like cats, while 15 percent really dislike them. I’ve had a lot of cats since my earliest days — another white cat, Snowball, came into my life briefly when I was about seven — and those numbers hold for me. Somewhere over 40 percent of my cats I liked a whole lot; about 15 percent I disliked.

How much we like cats is a simpler question than how much cats like us.

“Is it only tunaffection?” Bill asked as he unpacked a case of tuna with egg and cheese flakes.

There was probably of lot of tunaffection in Boy’s attentions to Bill — winding through his legs, covering his black Merino wool sweater in white hair, curling up for naps.

But food also has a lot to do with why Bill likes me. The way to a man’s heart is his stomach, my mother told me, and Bill says she was right.

We all love one another for our soft laps, heat-producing bodies and fine pelts. As the poet Yeats wrote: “only God, my dear, could love you for yourself alone and not your golden hair.”

Why have we loved white-haired Boy?

Perhaps a creature draws love proportional to his self-valuation. Boy, who thought the world of himself, is king of our cat mountain.

Bill believes Boy loved him. His final proof, the icing to the cake of 161⁄2 years of intimate circadian interdependency, is Boy’s last act: Lifting his weary head onto Bill’s leg. Boy died January 5 by the fire he loved, with his humans and his dog.

We are bereft. I have written too long because Boy is not here to mark the movement from day into night with his call for dinner. The day has to begin without the creature who used to start the movement downstairs for food and coffee. The first person home at night comes into an empty house and hears no greeting.

Boy always had something to say. Without him, life is too quiet.

2009 - a year of limited character

2009-12-20T10:05:00.001-05:00

Gimme - Gimme - Gimme!

2009-12-15T17:37:00.002-05:00

I understand the Economy is in the toilet. Perhaps you've heard this, too? Perhaps it's not just another myth like the Easter Bunny or Rush Limbaugh.

But the endless sucking need of Charities is burning me out. I give as generously yet carefully as I can each year and have focused on causes close to my heart - SPCA, AIDS, GLBT, etc.

The amount of solicitation this year has been unprecedented. And one Charity on the annual roster has been relentless.

For anonymity, I'll just use the initials "M.S.".

For about 3 months they called my number daily between 3pm and 5pm. Finally, I took them in hand and explained this was not the way to win my heart; their annual gift was coming on my schedule and within my budget.

I recently sent out my contribution for 2009. M.S. sent me a lovely "Thank You" card with much verbiage of all the things that money can buy and how my contribution plays its part and all of this signed of by Joyce N., Big Title Such & Such.

Yet there at the bottom in a handwriting font, in blue ink a 'personal' P.S. from M.S.:

"Won't you consider making another gift in the same amount to help even more?"

I folded the card in quarters, sheathed it in the enclosed pre-stamped envelope and sealed it to go out in tomorrow's mail.

But before I did, I wrote in block letter and in red ink: "You're a jerk, Joyce."

RECIPE: Butternut Squash and Cheddar Bread Pudding

2009-11-29T13:17:00.001-05:00

LINK: http://www.bonappetit.com/recipes/2009/11/butternut_squash_and_cheddar_bread_pudding

A delicious savory bread pudding that rivals the big roasted bird.

6 to 8 servings

Recipe by Molly Wizenberg

Photograph by Elinor Carucci

November 2009

Ingredients

2 pounds peeled seeded butternut squash, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 6 cups)
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 1/2 teaspoons coarse kosher salt plus additional for sprinkling
7 large eggs
2 1/4 cups half and half
6 tablespoons dry white wine
1 1/2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 day-old baguette (do not remove crust), torn into 1-inch pieces (about 10 cups)
1 cup chopped shallots (about 4 large)
2 bunches Tuscan kale (about 1 pound), ribs removed, kale coarsely chopped
8 ounces extra-sharp cheddar cheese, coarsely grated

Preparation

Preheat oven to 400°F. Toss squash with 1 tablespoon oil on rimmed baking sheet. Sprinkle with coarse salt; bake until squash is tender, turning with spatula occasionally, 20 to 25 minutes.
Whisk eggs in large bowl. Add half and half, wine, mustard, and 1 1/2 teaspoons coarse salt; whisk to blend. Add baguette pieces; fold gently into egg mixture. Let soak 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Meanwhile, heat 2 tablespoons oil in large pot over medium-high heat. Add shallots and sauté until soft, stirring frequently, about 5 minutes. Add kale; cover and cook 2 minutes. Uncover and stir until kale is wilted but still bright green, about 5 minutes (kale will be a bit crunchy).
Reduce oven temperature to 350°F. Generously butter 13x9x2-inch baking dish. Using slotted spoon, transfer half of bread from egg mixture to prepared baking dish, arranging to cover most of dish. Spoon half of kale over bread. Spoon half of squash over bread and kale; sprinkle with half of cheese. Repeat with remaining bread, kale, squash, and cheese. Pour remaining egg mixture over bread pudding.
Cover bread pudding with foil. Bake 20 minutes. Remove foil; bake uncovered until custard is set and bread feels springy to touch, about 20 minutes longer.
Preheat broiler; broil pudding until cheese browns slightly, about 2 minutes. Cool 5 minutes and serve.

POEM: DIRECTION

2009-11-21T13:27:00.000-05:00

You'll only arrive at this house through
the woods we grew with purpose
Those birches dance
in costumes curled & fringed
Lights wink between the two
still flirting with the handsome oak next door
While below graped canopy
four chairs collect deep shade
emptied now of long-awaited guests
Sensitive ferns beside smooth purple stones
focused on this visitation
Heavy, cool air, fuels the spreading greenness
embedded in every surface, as if footsteps
you might fit your sole into each morning
and trace, still sleepy, a path older than ants.

eaf

POEM: Prospero's Prospect, Jay Johnson

2009-11-11T13:29:00.002-05:00

This I abjure:
rough young magicians with red hair
and freckles and the memories
of them which have dissolved me in tears.
Full fathom five
my father lies and my beloved
and my beloved and
the ones I thought, however briefly
beloved
and of their bones is coral made
and of my heart
is hope squeezed not quite dry.
Even as the leaves cover paths
and grasses parch, there is nothing
but expectation
of the island, the prospect
of the buoys tolling in the sea
the cloudless sky
the spells
for which no longer have I breath,
of the final nothing at all.

JAY JOHNSON
as featured in the Gay & Lesbian Review

Ohhh, But He Should Have Been.

2009-11-03T07:08:00.001-05:00

Amen, Rat, Amen...

Poet Profile | Sherman Alexie | PBS

2009-10-23T06:35:00.000-05:00

The Fight or Flight Response
by Sherman Alexie

Years ago, in Spokane, a woman saved
A family of orphaned baby geese.
An amateur ornithologist, she raised
Those birds into adulthood, and then released

Them into the pond at Manito Park,
Where a dozen swans, elegant and white,
Tore the tame geese open and ate their hearts.
Of course, all of this was broadcast live

On the local news. Eyewitnesses wept.
My mother and I shrugged, not at death,
But at those innocent folks who believe
That birds don't murder, rape, and steal.

Like us, swans can be jealous and dangerous,
And, oh, so lovely, sure and monogamous.

Source: Online NewsHour: Poetry Series Poet Profile Sherman Alexie PBS

Poem: ANTIPODES

2009-10-15T07:00:00.002-05:00

"Yonder in Ethiopia are the Antipodes, men that have their feet against our feet." ~ Bartholemus Anglicus

Even the bereft take advantage of a window's uncostly function -
But no transparent choice guarantees an apparent outcome.
Through crust & core, shovels hammer in hopes of riches and great escapes -
Those wounds never heal. When a women's mantle is disturbed - she'll leak her innermost secrets - so don't be too hasty.
Bide your time, taking away slowly spoonfuls of dirt.
If you leave your perceived Siberia in haste just to pop up in Antarctica,
You deserve a penguin's sour upbraiding. To not be kitted for the occasion -
Is to be vestigial, tuxless & fucked.

10.14.09

Gina's Pepperoni Dip

2009-09-20T16:14:00.002-05:00

One my sister got me hooked on some time ago... e.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

1 can(2.9 oz) fried onions
2 8 oz pck cr cheese softened
1 cup (8 oz) sour cream
1 package peperonie sliced anddiced
1/4 cup green bell pepper
1/4 tsp garlic powder

Preheat oven to 350

Reserve 1/4 cup of fried onions.
Mix remaining onions and all other ingredients together.
Spread mixture in a 1 1/2 quart casserole pan (Gina uses a bread pan) coated with nonstick veggie spray.
Top with reserved fried onions
Bake for 20 minutes or until heated through.

Serve... enjoy...

Winners of the Food Section's Third Annual Top Tomato Recipe Contest - washingtonpost.com

2009-09-07T07:24:00.000-05:00

Winners of the Food Section's Third Annual Top Tomato Recipe Contest - washingtonpost.com

Some great recipes here I'd like to try this fall - especially the roasted tomato soup. ~ e.

Roasted Tomato Soup
The Washington Post, August 12, 2009

For Washington resident and Tennessee native Shelby Thompson, this soup evokes summer memories of her and her Granddaddy Bill eating warm tomatoes out of hand, straight from the farmers market, with a pinch of salt added after the first bite -- although she says she has added "an adult twist."

Serve warm or cold, with toasted bread or a grilled cheese sandwich.

4 servings

Ingredients:

• Olive oil
• 4 medium tomatoes (about 1 3/4 pounds)
• Salt
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar, plus more to taste and for optional sprinkling
• 1-inch piece peeled ginger root, grated or minced
• 1 poblano pepper, stemmed, seeded and finely chopped
• 2 or 3 medium cloves garlic, minced
• 1/2 cup Rioja or other spicy red wine
• 1/2 cup water

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil, then coat the foil lightly with oil.

Core the tomatoes. Cut them in half, then cut each half into 4 wedges, placing them on the foil as you work. Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper and drizzle with oil. Roast for 20 minutes, then turn the pieces over and roast for 20 minutes. If desired, sprinkle balsamic vinegar over the tomatoes for the last 20 minutes in the oven.

Meanwhile, heat a few teaspoons of the oil in a large saute pan or skillet over medium heat.

Add the ginger, chopped poblano pepper and 2 cloves' worth of the garlic. Cook, stirring often, for about 5 minutes, until they have softened, taking care not to burn the garlic or ginger.

Add the 2 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar (or more to taste), the wine, water and 1 or 2 teaspoons of oil; stir to mix well. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook, stirring occasionally, for 15 minutes.

Transfer 1/3 of the roasted tomato pieces to a blender. (If they are hot, you may wish to remove the center knob in the blender lid and place a dish towel over the opening; that will prevent steam from causing the lid to pop off.) If desired, add the remaining chopped garlic. Pulse until chunky, then add to the pan or skillet.

Transfer the next 1/3 of the tomatoes to the blender, along with a little of the cooking liquid from the pan or skillet. Puree until almost smooth, then transfer to the pan or skillet and stir to combine. Repeat with the remaining roasted tomatoes and more of the cooking liquid; puree until smooth, then add to the pan or skillet.

Cook the soup, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes, until heated through but not bubbling. If the soup is too chunky, return batches to the blender and puree to the desired consistency.

Divide among small individual bowls. Serve with a sprinkling of Parmesan cheese.

Recipe Source:
From Top Tomato 2009 finalist Shelby Thompson of Washington.

45 calories, n/a fat, n/a saturated fat, n/a cholesterol, 45mg sodium, 6g carbohydrates, 1g dietary fiber, 2g sugar, 1g protein.

Tested by Bonnie S. Benwick for The Washington Post.
E-mail the Food Section at food@washpost.com with recipe questions.

© 2007 The Washington Post Company

Recipe: Corn, Crab, & Red Pepper Salad

2009-09-06T10:08:00.002-05:00

One of my favorites from John Shields, keep losing track of the location of it, so sharing it here. ~ e.

Corn, Crab, & Red Pepper Salad
Serves 6

This recipe makes a refreshing summer salad from some of Maryland's most famous foods - sweet corn and crab. Simply serve this salad on a bed of butter lettuce, or as a party appetizer, place into a decorative bowl with fresh tortilla chips on the side and it magically transforms into a marvelous dip.

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon sherry vinegar
1 large garlic clove, peeled and mashed
Juice of 1 lime
1/2 pound fresh or pasteurized backfin crabmeat, picked over for shells
1 small red onion, peeled and finely minced
1 medium red bell pepper, cored, seeded, cut in fine dice
4 cups fresh Silver Queen (or other sweet corn) corn kernels
[e: I grill about six ears of corn for the salad]
3 tablespoons fresh cilantro leaves
1/4 teaspoon Old Bay or seafood seasoning
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Combine oil, vinegar, garlic, lime juice, and whisk thoroughly. Place crab, red onion, red pepper, corn, and cilantro together in a bowl and toss gently, taking care not to break up the lumps of crab. Pour the lime dressing over top and gently toss again. Season with Old Bay, salt, and pepper to taste. Cover and chill for at least one hour before serving.

Source: http://www.johnshields.com/articles/edible_summer_2006.html

Stand Up & Amen...

2009-07-30T08:00:00.002-05:00

What to get someone who thinks they have (or know) everything...

The "Sarah Palin Bedpan of Suburban Psychosis via the Holy Trinity of Oprah, Ellen and Katie Couric".

Inscription reads: "Listening to failed vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin is like trying to decipher what the president of your kid's school PTO would sound like if she ate goofballs and snorted cocaine in-between sessions of getting gang banged by rival Mexicans on the foot of an altar dedicated to Lawrence Welk."

LINK: http://bedpanart.web.aplus.net/cart/index.php?p=product&id=39&parent=0

Recipe - Mixed Berry Terrine

2009-07-16T14:44:00.003-05:00

1/3 cup cold water
2 packets unflavored gelatin
2 cups orange or grapefruit juice
1/3 cup sugar
Segments from 2 navel oranges
Segments from 1 pink grapefruit
About 3 cups mixed berries

1. Put cold water in a large bowl, pour in gelatin, and stir to combine. Meanwhile, bring juice and sugar to a boil. Pour some of the juice over the gelatin, stir to dissolve; add remaining juice. Chill 2 hours, stirring occasionally, until slightly thick.

2. Stir the fruit into the lightly thickened juice and pour everything into a 9x5-inch loaf pan. Chill 4 hours or more. To unmold, dip the loaf pan into hot water for a few seconds, then run a knife around the terrine's edges. Serve with more berries or sweetened pureed raspberries.

Link: http://www.parade.com/export/sites/default/food/recipes/parade/123-eats-berries.html

Serves 10. Per serving: 90 calories, 22g carbs, 2g protein, no fat or cholesterol.

Happy Father's Day!

2009-06-21T08:27:00.001-05:00

This has to be one of the most succinct Sally Forth moments ever...

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Canopy Tour

2009-06-08T10:15:00.002-05:00

If it could be written
in words, all of it -
the clearing of the woods
down the gorge
wouldn't provide enough paper -
but there are so many things worth writing:

The woven nest whose tendrils
snake the rafters
that fat-bottomed bee
she bores the beams and rails

Sun and shadow mutate from
mid-day dapples
to six o'clock streaks and stripes
Regularly, the blue-jays terrorize
the robins, "Cheer, cheer!"
A cardinal, to spite its weaker song
fans the braver fire of its plumage
against which the robin's pale orange blush is shamed.

Will there be a roast tonight?
Will those broken cords be put to use -
cut loose into a crackling moonlight sonata
while we are still able to hear it
and while the woods around are still audience?

Beech twigs at daybreak
clears the palate - coffee pulls the shades open
Spatters of separating forms
evolve in God's country
the oddly mittened sassafras,
orange & ribboned mushrooms -
the companions of coal.
Animated wood smoke
tests memory's rafters -
recalls California or Maine?
Suddenly, I am ten,
with Betty on a stone beach.

Or that visit with Ben Franklin which yielded little,
But called to mind:
"If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead and rotten,
either write something worth reading or do things worth the writing."
I have done so little of either lately, I reflect -
I've missed you, my friend, and it's my fault, really.

What becomes of the world
emptied of the wild and woolly?
The incorrigible flirt of birds -
their inexhaustible metallic twitters;
What song accompanied Adam's expulsion
from that first forest?
The retreating and silenced hemlocks, their crushed needles
evoke poisons and potions.
The dimming of the lanterns, the wetting of the coals...
What soft smell will be registered
by our human exit?

Bootlegs of Renaissance (Rhymes with Orange)

2009-05-25T07:44:00.000-05:00

The Soundtrack of my Life

2009-05-23T14:14:00.001-05:00

The Soundtrack of my Life...

1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For the first question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the "next" button TWICE
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool...just type it in man!
7. Seriously. Don't cheat!

IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?

Opening Credits:
Carrick Fergus - The Peasall Sisters

Waking Up:
Breathe - Erasure

First Day at School:
Two Tears - Eliza Carthy

Falling in Love:
Love for Sale - Boney M

Losing Virginity:
September in the Rain - Dinah Washington

Fight Song:
In the Name of Angels - Men Without Hats

Break Up:
Black - Marcella Detroit

Prom:
Time Turns Around - Toni Halliday

Life:
Here Comes the Rain Again - Eurythmics

Mental Breakdown:
One Step Nearer the Edge - The Tourists

Driving:
Heart of the Night - Juice Newton

Flashback:
I Feel a Song (In My Heart) - Gladys Knight & The Pips

Getting Back Together:
We Are Family - Sister Sledge

Wedding:
And Winter Came - Enya

Birth of Child:
Keep the River on Your Right - Jonatha Brooke

Final Battle:
Code of Silence - Billy Joel & Cyndi Lauper

Death Scene:
He Prayed - Sinead O'Connor

Funeral Song:
The Limit to Your Love - Feist

End Credits:
I Want to Walk with You - Toni Childs

Almond Toffee

2009-04-25T13:23:00.003-05:00

One of my favorite & most frequently made sweets. I've tweaked a few things when I make it (highlighted in red)...

Almond Toffee

about 2-1/4 pounds
Prep: 10 minutes Chill: 1 hour Cook: 12 minutes

Ingredients
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut up
1-1/2 cups granulated sugar
1 tablespoon light corn syrup
1 cup chopped almonds plus 1/4 finely chopped almonds
12 ounces milk chocolate bars, chopped, or milk chocolate chips
[I add 1/4 tsp of vanilla extract.]

Directions
1. Line a 15 x 10 x 1-inch jelly-roll pan with nonstick foil or regular foil coated with nonstick spray. In a medium-size saucepan, heat butter, sugar, corn syrup and 2 tablespoons water. [I add 2 tbsp cold coffee vs. water.] Heat over medium heat to melt butter. Increase heat to medium-high and insert candy thermometer (see Note).
2. Cook mixture about 12 minutes until golden brown and temperature reaches 300°F. Do not stir. Remove from heat and remove thermometer. Carefully stir in 1 cup chopped almonds.
3. Quickly pour toffee onto prepared pan and spread to edges. Let stand in pan on a wire rack for 30 minutes.
4. Melt half of the chocolate in microwave on HIGH for 45 seconds; stir to smooth. Spread over top of cooled toffee; refrigerate 20 minutes until firm.
5. Once firm, flip entire bar over onto a sheet of waxed paper; remove foil. Microwave remaining chocolate on HIGH for 45 seconds. Stir until smooth. Spread over toffee bar; sprinkle with remaining 1/4 cup almonds. Use waxed paper to slide toffee bar back onto baking pan. Refrigerate 20 minutes more.
6. Once chocolate is firm, break bar into 2-1/2-inch pieces. Store airtight at room temperature, up to 1 month.

Fenner be...

2009-04-04T15:34:00.001-05:00

Neither a borrower, nor a Fenner be.

Which work of Shakespeare was the original quote from?