17 replies to this topic

[maggiethecat]

The power of prayer.

[Lady T]

I wouldn't doubt that Santa Lucia helps some folks with their spatulas...but St. Anthony has been freelancing for me for years: lost paperwork, corkscrews (ten minutes before company arrives), bills I haven't paid, receipts I need to produce for bills I have paid, the crimini mushrooms I've set my heart on cooking and I can't find in a badly-designed produce section -- you name it, the good saint's bopped me on the figurative head and pointed me to it.

Tony, Tony, look around...
Something's lost and can't be found!

St. Cecilia (patroness of organists, and by extension, church music in general; November 22nd is her day) has gotten me through more church services without (a) screwing up my solo work; (b) laughing out loud at the sermon; © falling asleep at the sermon and snoring at embarrassing volume.

I cannot for the life of me recall whether it's St. Blaise or St. Joseph who guards and comforts the health of the human throat. I would bet good money, though, that I'm going to be reminded which one it is before the spring flu season's over.

And finally: I have assumed for many years now that it's St. Jude, patron of hopeless causes, who has brought me my tax refunds, because surely it's not my skill at tax preparation.

Now tell me, someone: is there a patron/ess for endless niggling detail, such a one as editors and proofreaders might address to plead for patience and a sharp eye and a tactful tongue?

[MHesse]

For cooking pancake breakfasts, it's St. Alfonzo.

For beer, maybe St. Pauli Girl?

For brownies, St. Toklas.

For brandy, St. Bernard

[Suzanne F]

Gee, Lady T, I thought the patron saint of lost articles was St. Elsewhere.

And my own personal guardian angel, St. Paul.

Edit to add: check out this heavenly site for, um, inspiration.

Edited by Suzanne F, 23 February 2004 - 03:35 PM.

[franktex]

There *is* a Patron Saint of Beer!
http://www.saintarno...aintarnold.html

I knew we named our brewery after a great guy!

[Suzanne F]

Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful of rye, and St. Kevin.

[JAZ]

St. Blaise: the patron saint of wood fired ovens

St. Crispin: the patron saint of rotisserie chicken

St. Blanche: the patron saint of perfectly cooked asparagus

[Batgrrrl]

St. Julia, because in a Thanksgiving show one year she actually dropped the turkey on the floor, picked it up, brushed it off and served it without batting an eye.

Symbol: A floor you can eat off of.

I also love her because I heard a radio interview with her (and I know I don't have this exactly, but it's the general gist of things) where the host got off on a tangent about trends in low-fat cooking, and when s/he asked St. Julia what she ate, she replied:

"Gin and beef."

End of conversation.

Batgrrrl (who has never dropped a turkey on the floor, btw, and if I did I wouldn't serve it to company; my kitchen floor isn't quite that sanctified!)

[gingerly]

some inspired by recent hot topics
St.Isabgol.preserver of the natural cycle.(aka St.Psyllium!)
symbol:u bend pipe

St Okra Winfrey.smoothes the way to copious..conversation.
symbol:sleek green okra pod curled in an O.
is this limited to saints or can the goddess Cauli enter too?
manyheaded protectress of all things subjected to trial by fire.
symbol:crucefix

Edited by gingerly, 26 February 2004 - 12:57 AM.

[bleudauvergne]

My patron saint is the kitchen god, who was smiling at me as the realtor turned the key. When we first saw our apartment, a lovely turn of the century wood paneled gem of a place overlooking a square in the heart of the gastronomic capital of Lyon, France, it was missing one thing. A kitchen. There was a closet with a water connection off of the living room. The previous owner had set up camp in it by plugging in a hot plate and a microwave, and nothing else. But the kitchen god tugged my cuff and nodded. I instantly decided that our long search was over.

During our one week cooling off period after signing the papers, I was strangely serene. I was not my usual self. My husband, the one who is the calm and scientific one, began to fret as he went over the details relentlessly. He was kept awake at night. He didn’t get it. He could not figure out how a place with a kitchen that small could be acceptable to me, the one who waxed poetically about how one day I’d have a real one with an island, and endless counters, a kitchen with stone floors, a home to an enormous wooden monastery table, with windows galore. Stained glass windows.

The thing that simply floored me was that the kitchen was in the perfect location of the house, and the positive energy reverberated from micro to macro. I also did the calculations considering the building, the neighborhood, the river, the surrounding elevations. Everything focuses on the perfect placement of that kitchen! As I inserted the elements in my plan according to the good principals of wind and water, everything fell miraculously into place, made common sense. The kitchen god is smiling on the space, on me, and the house, he is making a good report.

Choosing and installing the elements became a breeze. It was as if we snapped our fingers. Color schemes melded as Villeroy Boch and Artigo united. Form followed function, function followed form. Contractors became available, artisans calendars opened, the understood the nobility of our goal. Every inch of space was utilized and maximized. We breathed easy as the cabinets, some with windows, some without, the space saving racks that roll out on ball bearings, the brushed aluminum detailing all converged. It was meant to be, we were meant to do it, and in the end, surrounded by the perfect balance of metal, fire, wood, earth and water, our home is complete.

Our patron saint is watching us make memories. We thank him for keeping us aware.

[snowangel]

Oh, St. Klink, the patron saint of smoking -- meat, poultry and other wonderful things smoked.

[eem]

St. Terry Richardson - Patron saint of tempering chocolate
symbol - plastic hand spatula and formica board

[Rabbi Ribeye]

St. O'Terry Napkin -- sops up the blood under my thawing ribeye

St. Oku -- patron of severed fingertips

St. O'Claws -- presides over all-u-can-eat lobsterfest

San Pizza Farcito Originale -- guardian angel of North Wabash Avenue

Edited by Rabbi Ribeye, 05 March 2004 - 08:25 AM.

[Pouncy]

I have a kitchen shrine. Complete with candles and offerings, my shrine stands small yet proud over my kitchen. The middle shelf of my spice rack is backed in holographic aluminum foil, and scattered with Chocolate Starlight candies. Beads wind their way about the kitchen god's feet, and raspberry votives illuminate his presence. A faithful wooden spatula serves to draw the eye towards the god, it's broken halves testifying to its thirty years of service in my family's spaghettis and sautes. The god stands among his offerings, his beatific smile wreathing his face, his hair curling over his forehead just so.

My kitchen god is a Surfing Elvis Stitch bobblehead, and I have served him well.

[foodie52]

When things get tough in the kitchen, the only saint I ever pray to is....

St. Julia

(Child, of course!)

[Lady T]

St. O'Terry Napkin -- sops up the blood under my thawing ribeye

St. Oku -- patron of severed fingertips

St. O'Claws -- presides over all-u-can-eat lobsterfest

San Pizza Farcito Originale -- guardian angel of North Wabash Avenue

*Groan*

St. Souci has always been good at getting me restaurant reservations.

*Dives for cover*

[divina]

having attended Catholic school for more than 13 years on America and now living in the Pope's own land, I am immersed in Icons.

San Lorenzo, grilled to death, is the patron saint of the market where I teach my classes.
symbol a young boy with a grill in hand...

I have my own guardian angle watching over my kitchen and my site

Santa Lucia has always been one of my favorites, looking like a lovely waitress with serving platter with eyese looking up!

and my street in Florence, Via Taddea, happens to be named after my patron Saint Jude, taddeas! Patron saint of lost causes..

St Christopher.. patron saint of travel... has always come through..
But to be sure... I have a krisna guarding my house!

[jackal10]

I used to live at Rhadegund House.
St Rhadegund (or Radegunde), was the daughter of Berthaire, pagan king of a portion of Thuringia, she was probably born at Erfurt, Thuringia, Germany. Her father was murdered by his brother, Hermenefrid, who in 531 was defeated by king Theodoric of Austrasia and king Clotaire I of Neustria (Acquitane). Clotaire took the twelve year old Radegunde captive and raped her.

Six years later he married her. He was not a nice person. and she and bore Clotaire's cruelties uncomplainingly until the final straw when he murdered her brother, Unstrut.

She then fled to a nunnery, and did a a lot of washing. Not a lot of people washed in those days. Since it was a healing order, washing was a good thing, and many apparently miraculous cures occurred.
She founded a monastry at Poitiers, and her virginity was miraculously restored. The nuns spread their healing order thoughout Europe and did a lot of washing.

The order fell into disrepute, since many of the nuns felt that the miraculous restoration of virginity applied to them as well, and the nunneries became places of debauch. Even more washing.

I give you St Rhadegund, patron saint of laundry (and recovery from excess).

Edited by jackal10, 15 March 2004 - 03:48 AM.