racheld

Home-Cooked. Who lives there? Or transports sloshy pots in the back of a dusty van.

Oh, CT!! that just made my morning!! I've been just rolling, reading that site---and I even thought I'd found the "cookie crumbs" I mentioned, mistakenly translating "pezzetti" as "pizzelle"---then traced that one to a recipe for a horsemeat ragout!! And where've you BEEN!!!!??? I've missed your lively voice the past while. Good to hear from you. And MAJOR cravings for this berry parfait---I just drip-chilled a box of plain old Dannon to make a little round cheese---I've only salted it a bit, so I think I'll see if that goes with some blueberries---we'll see. It's still soft enough to stir in the lime.

Yes, but with a really tart yogurt, just a bit of grated peel was sufficient to give the flavor. With a sprinkle of sugar, it was like topping berries with lime pie. And a few cookie crumbs take the charade even higher.

Us, too---this cool day and that wonderful remembrance were cause for our supper of Northern beans with ham, a pot of TENDER baby turnip greens, picked yesterday from the neighbor's garden by our son and cooked at his house last night. I added a crisp little pan of buttermilk cornbread, some COLD crisp slices of sweet onion, and some 40-weight iced tea. I felt like lifting my glass to Kendra's Grandma.

Arrrright, Y'all!!! Who censored the pictures!!!???

I just noticed---the grass on the top layer was tall enough that you could have gotten away with a half-ball hidden away.

I've never been to Umbria, but I've spent many a while gazing out the back windows of our Mississippi house at the milo fields, watching for the deer to come stepping out of the woods. It is a sorghum-type crop. This looks just like August in the South.

And they're worth another look.

I say BRAVA!! It's charming and beautiful, and apparently JUST what the bride wanted. Do you know how HARD that last one is!!?? And making ball cakes will give PROS a migraine. You did GREAT.

Another new voice from the Heartland!!! Welcome, Matt!! (Oh, gosh. I didn't just SAY that, did I?)

We LOVE her, and have everything she's ever recorded on tape, I think. Plus all her books, two of which I lugged home in a suitcase so Daughter could have the absolute Brit version. I also swiped two little paper spills of "Brown Sauce" from a conveniently-abandoned room service tray in the hall of our hotel, just because she lavished the stuff onto a big slice of (omelet?) and ate it with voluptuous pleasure, with her head tilted back to take a BIG bite as it dripped. We've been looking forward to this season, as our rinky-dink DISH network charges lots extra for her channel. BUT. Daughter told me as we were cooking this a.m. that a chili dish she made yesterday had a strange topping. Her Goddessness has perhaps one toetip changing to clay---she put cinnamon in CORNBREAD!

YESSSSSSSSSSS!!

I just don't know how to tell you. It's a wonderful memory, and a lovely bit of family lore, unique and irreplaceable---and WELL told in the telling. Thank you for many memories---my grandmother was Mammaw, and her hands still guide mine as I sift and stir, touch a testing finger to the spring of a hot cake layer, juggle an egg white from shell to shell, and reach into her saltcrock for just the right amount to season every pot on the stove all at once. Beans and cornbread---I wish they were as famous as foie gras and caviar. They certainly taste as good, and bring much more home-comfort pleasure. If I didn't have this big pan of snap beans ready to put on for tonight, I'd be trying that quick-soak on some pintos to get them ready for supper. Thanks for a wonderful Fall-is-here read; it was just perfect.

Carpe diem?

My goodness. Thank you. Tomatoes ARE the poetry of the garden, I guess.

Just what we've all been waiting for---just spectacular. Is that the host lying on the floor before dessert? Last night as we had our burgers from the grill, I imagined I could smell the delicious aromas from your kitchen. The colors had a life of their own, as well. We're off to lunch, and after this, I hope there's no waiting. Wow.

All ours came down today, under the chilly bright sun. The plants were withered up past their waists, with just brown-wisped stalks still reaching upward. The tops had a bit of green to them, and were loaded with hundreds of tomatoes of all hues and sizes. There are big pans of them upstairs, ready to be used, cooked, eaten or wrapped for saving. I did a too-detailed thing on the wrap/save thing for someone on the Dinner thread a couple of weeks ago. But it works; we always have our own tomatoes on the table for Thanksgiving, sometimes Christmas, and we shared the last two of the season on New Year's Day, 2000. The garden is stripped of all dead or dying greenery, all the wires and cages and cucumber fences rolled and stored away in the back garden. The tiller made a deliciously-scented upheaval of the sandy earth, and tomorrow we'll scatter the several ounces of mustard and turnip seeds. There should be time to have at least a small tender crop before the snow flies. Tiny greens with their little white turnips attached, sauteed with some chopped ham, with a last-minute dash of vinegar or pepper sauce. The little curls of baby mustard, picked morning-fresh, rinsed and spun and tossed with sliced scallions and hardboiled eggs. A quick sizzle and crumble of bacon, a sloosh of cider vinegar into the hot skillet, and the whole tongue-tingling brew dribbled over the salad, to toss til it loses half its volume and gains a delicious amalgam of flavors far greater than the sum. A soupbowl of that and a crisp handful of cornbread, with slices of the saved tomatoes alongside---that's a lunch for heroes. There'll be fried green tomatoes several more times, and I'll check the wrapped ones every week. We'll slice some for sandwiches, we'll quarter some into a salad, chop them into salsa and pico and the season's last warm pasta/Caprese with fresh tomatoes, grated Parmesan, and some bright leaves from the backdoor pot of basil. Into the cold, dark room they'll go tomorrow, to rest and wait til they're needed.

Me, too, Anna!!! I'll pick you up on the way.

I think I have this on my stereopticon. I keep expecting Lucy Honeychurch and Cousin Charlotte to come strolling down the hills, Baedekers in hand.

I'm to far away to add anything useful, just Welcome! Procne. Though I must confess I might be wary of your own cooking.

PLEASE update!!! With pictures, if you have them---it sounded SO beautiful and delicious. PS When you've rested up from all that work, that is.

Tins, maybe? Like a good ole Hostess Fruitcake round tin box, with the gold etchings and the pretty scalloped paper for a liner? I miss those, tin and cake.

What a lovely bunch of ideas, though I shudder at the thought of de-pithing those vicious, blistering little fellows. Our huge pot is almost too big to move now, but will make its way around to the front porch on Oct. 1, to hang out as the resident "pumpkin bush" until after Halloween. There are four flourishing plants in there, loaded with more than a hundred green little bells, some slightly yellowing in the recent cool weather. It's just beautiful when it's all laden with the golden, peachy fruit, and occasionally people walk up the driveway to get a closer look. I hope the soon-to-come frost doesn't harm its great bounty, and that we'll have it there until November. Then we'll freeze a few to make up a little spray for next year's crops, and share the rest with neighbors and friends.

Maybe a garnish for the Pickletini? I'm a booze nerd, and gotta find a better teacher than S. Lee. I slink away.

YESSS!! Pralines are immortal!! rachel, still wondering what you meant by that