racheld
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Posts posted by racheld
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And where do you find enough "chill" for it in Atlanta?
I can taste your words.
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Great covetings and envy of your lunch game with Wren and her gorgeous companions.
Oxyphenbutazone, quetzals and whizbang to you both.
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AHHH---we could sit down together at a meal anytime, with all those lovely Asian vegetables in all sort of vinegary brines, especially daikon and kimchee.
And leave all those fishy attempts to heartier souls, like Chris and Bourdain.
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You DID IT!!! Yer a bedda man than I am, Gunga Din. Wow. The timpano alone was worth the price of admission.
That was some marvelous spread, and I second K8's DIVE into the gratin. It's all you said and more. And the pies---gorgeous. Even the peas were little jewels.
If you get a moment between now and Easter, could you do a step-by-step sort of just written tutorial---there don't have to be pictures---of the Timpano? It's just fascinating. What kind of crust and cook time?
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Perfect in every way---isn't that by the same guy who wrote "Our Tzimmes"--the one about strolling the cemetery, looking for prune cake?
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Nothing really to add to the discussion, but methinks this "latke" thing may take on the import and attention of "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon."
We've already cried them and fried them---what's next? Lord of the Latkes? Swan Latke? Lucia di Latkemoor?
This is what happens to idle minds when you've done all the Christmas preparations already. I should know better.
edited cause my italics didn't take.
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Well, ever since the "let's leave him some hushpuppies" incident which resulted in a nightlong cacophany of doghowls outside, and a wee-hours tree-toppling by the resident little Jack Russell (who knew a three-legged dog could jump so high?)---we've sorta been nervous about leaving out anything on a plate, bowl, or in a baggie. I swear Petey could smell food three counties away.
So we put out chocolate-chip-cookie makings for the elves to bake back home after all the flurry when it's time to make cocoa and put their feet up.
All sealed in a sniff-proof Mason jar.
The reindeer can hit the salt-lick out by the arbor.
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Not QUIIIIITE technically a cracker, but we've become addicted to a melba-style crispy thing from Sam's--the bag merely says "New York Style" on the banner, and "sea salt bagel chips" below on the big green bag..
They're the butteriest, crispest little rounds, without that great hardness associated with "bought" Melba toast. They're good with anything---we just had a handful last night with sticks from the big old hunka orangey hoop cheese, some little rolls of good dry salami, and our pre-dinner drinks.
Tonight, they will circle the bowl of cold crab/scallion dip and a dish of paminna cheese.
I also found that they will "hold up" under a piping flourish of salmon cream cheese or anchovy butter, and we DO crush a quick handful over a salad.
That's enough---we like them. Leaving this infomercial now before I start waving my hands like Vanna White.
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Hooray!!!
What a treat to awake to, this frosty morning. Looking forward to a fun week.
Wait---I re-read---You went to YALE at fifteen???!!! And graduated at twenty?
Wow. Another Wunderkind. We DO love a smarty-pants around here.
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Some photos:
No idea. But if Georgia had been the photographer instead of Alfred, this is the photo she'd have taken.
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What a lovely holiday gift, and wonderful way to end the year!! Thank you.
I've been trying to figure a way to tell Maggie that the Bane of a Small House piece is the best thing I've read in FOREVER, without sounding like a major suck-up.
And it is.
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thirty gloves of garlic sweating in olive oil.
So then do they call them "fingers" in Canada?---Down South, a clove of garlic is a "toe."
And the panettone toast---I'm gonna try that on for aroma tomorrow---there's a telltale pointless pyramidal box under the tree, and I'll bet I can get that unwrapped and sliced and toasting before anyone else is up.
Can I nominate one? The scent of a REAL pit, full of nightlong cooked shoulders and ribs, a little char in places, dripping into the coals somewhere down Memphis way, with the smokedrift grabbing hold of you like perfume grabs Pepe le Pew. It gets into your nose and lifts you up tiptoe, just yanking you into that greasy-booth place with paper placemats and an eternal haze in the air.
You have to swallow before you speak, and then several times more, while you order a pulled pork, slaw on, and a crock of beans with crispins.
I think Miss Jessie mighta made an exception, but I woudn't have wasted it on Joe.
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This morning, my house should by rights have smelt of last-night's four-fried-chicken-legs and the fried rice I made for dinner, but opening the bedroom door greeted me with the scent of perking coffee and the three candles (one lit by Chris as I slept) which my dear neighbor gave me yesterday---one pumpkin spice, one a clove-y cranberry and one a combination of evergreen and vanilla, which I would never have thought of, but it's lovely.
Now, it's also underlaid with the scent of good soap and shampoo, misting out of the open bathroom door, and will soon be overtaken by the enticing smell of cookies in the oven.
And there were shreds of plain old cabbage in the fried rice. With lots of garlic.
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Our #3 Son just bought his first house last month, and for Christmas he's getting a "Starter Set" of the RADA knives we all love so much---eight of the most useful ones in a case, plus the handy-dandy cutting board and the sharpener in his stocking.
Also Carte Blanche (within reason) to raid Rachel's pantry shelves for whatever pots, pans, bakeware, gadgets he needs to fill in his arsenal. He's had an apartment for several years, but only recently has cared to cook at home. I knew the yen would kick in sooner or later---he's the only one of the seven who kept fish sticks and Stouffer's mac and cheese in his freezer.
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Um.....noon to one p.m. Is that the time that all those things go in the oven? Please tell me you're not hoping to prep and make all four things in an hour. The potato slicing and cheesing and saucing alone will probably take half that.
And a Timpano? That's an all-day job, or at least a morning and well into the afternoon. Is any of this meal pre-prepped or store-bought or at least made and in your freezer, ready to thaw and bake or heat?
A five-day schedule like that will grind you down and make you fall asleep in your chair as soon as you sit down, let alone all the courses and presents and actual TALK to the guests you'll have to do.
To me, of the 18 hour days in my youthful catering days, it STILL seems a great mountain to climb. And now---no WAY can an old lady like me, despite those little parties for 200 which used to happen so effortlessly, ever attempt even half of that.
Skimp on cleaning, skimp on courses, but do not skimp on rest, which you don't seem to have scheduled. You will be too tired to REMEMBER the party, let alone enjoy it.
Says old rachel, who just jumped down the last three stairsteps with a heavy grocery bag in each hand; I stepped on my sock toe, and the only resort was to fly
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Dayum, Maggie!
I went looking for it on Google, and the first listing took me right back here. You're in Cyber-circulation.
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Cigarettes, Puff Pastry, and Shalimar.
Who could forget THAT?
Deeeelightful, Miz M---as usual.
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A few years ago, my friend Kathy and her soldier husband had invited one of the Colonels at the local base to Thanksgiving dinner, as his wife and children had gone to grandparents or somewhere else. She had asked me for a couple of recipes, turkey timing, etc., so she seemed to be all set to do a lovely dinner.
She called me late that afternoon, sounding almost in tears. "Rachel," she said, "I wanted to tell you this before you heard it from someone else---I'm just so embarrassed and I know you'll be ashamed of me."
Alarmed, I asked, "What happened??!!"---expecting to hear of raw turkey or sprouts like stones, or maybe even a disastrous spill right at dinnertime.
Her reply was, "I was cooking in the kitchen while Bill and the Colonel talked in the living room, and Popcorn (their dog) fished the GRAVY PACKET out of the garbage, chewed on it a little bit, and went in and laid it on the Colonel's SHOE!!!"
Gravy powder vs. gravy-flavored dogspit on Colonel's shoe---I think she hated talking about the former more than the latter.
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Just wanted to add my hearty, heart-felt Heartland Thank You to the long list. It's been a bright, golden time spent with y'all, and it's added quite a lovely OOMPH to the already full, bright-with-tinsel days.
Thank you, all four, for such a welcome and such a display. I just didn't want your earlier-than-ours evening and close to catch me unawares.
Beautiful and precious, all of it.
When the last word and picture fly away from your hands, go put your feet up, share that last slice of cookie-crumb cake, and sip a tiny toast with that famous vin de noix---a fitting, satisfying close to a wonderful party that we were all happy to attend.
Bonne nuit, Goede Nacht and Merci.
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Now THIS is a magical moment:
It's as it has been, as it was in the AGO, not one bow to modern or latest or new. The shine of the wood and the sun through the windows---I can see it, I can SMELL it, with the baking aromas dancing with the wood scent in the air. Even the clearish bags, holding their waiting burden---just a bit of imagination makes them a translucent silk, with the freshest flour on Earth there for the dipping.
And those barbell breads, looking like immense crusty scepters wielded by kings---you MUST have taken one home, nestling it warm to your body for the trek through the cold, hardly able to keep from tearing off great chunks for the journey, and crackling through that crust for the palette painted on that lunch plate.
Our own doings and preparings have been so satisfying and nourishing that I have taken this as a great bonus to the joys of the season.
No real envy til now. But I covet, I do.
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Diving, strolling, lolling about on a crumb---any and all, including doing all the dishes and having the kitchen pristine when you ladies arise in pursuit of another day of cooking magic. I wouldn't even presume to EAT with you---I'd just like a video of the day's pleasures and conversation and work.
C'mon in, Marlene---plenty of room for several.
ET ask: Whose hands on the shears?
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on the plate with the cabbage, potatoes and a green sauce of hard boiled egg yolks, oil, parsley and shallots:
Told you. You could serve that at any gathering South of the M/D line. Perfect, right down to the eggs in the gravy.
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I can't tell you how wonderful this is. I woke, opened the bedroom door, and emerged into the lovely glow of the small buffet tree, which Caro (or the tree fairies) had set up and sparkled and lit while I was sleeping.
First glug of percolator sent that lovely aroma wafting round the rooms, and I sat down to this---isn't that a nice way to start a cold morning!!!
And you'd all be surprised how familiar this all is---the pigs feet, the tripe, all the lovely vegetables and herbs afloat in that golden broth---I can smell it from here.
The cooking is so reminiscent of the good old Southern kitchen, with even a still-recognizable whole chicken, crown still resolutely aloft despite the slumpy naked little body---I'd expect it to be still warm from the henyard dance with the hatchet.
And I am no stranger to a head in the pot. I especially remember one resigned blue eye once, peeking from the pot as I lifted the lid.
Just the idea of three wonderful cooks bustling about a warm, fragrant kitchen, each of a different cooking and lifeplace---I cannot think of a better cyber-present for this glorious season.
C'est magnifique, Y'all!
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Who can sleep? What time y'all gonna get up inna mornin'? I'll just wait right here---iced tea, comfy cat and me.
First I'll go load up the percolator with a good French-type coffee and set out my blue bowl.
one each. Now hurry up.
Country Ham
in Southeast: Cooking & Baking
Posted
Maybe it's just the longing after four days of turkey, but HAMMMMMMM