racheld

I forgot to say I learned about simmer/frying sausages from Sophia Loren, who is quite a cook, I understand---featured in BA several times, I think, and other cooking magazines. This was in a long-ago movie on the late. late show---she was being courted by a widower (Anthony Quinn, I think) and his daughter just did not like it. She had been looking after him for a long time, but could never get the sausages cooked properly, the way Daddy liked them. They always had breakfast after Sunday mass, and she always burned the sausages, trying to cook them like her Mom had. So, Sophia showed her how to put them cold in the pan with a little water, cover to cook them through, then take off the lid and shake them gently over the low heat till the water had evaporated and all sides had browned nicely. I took my cooking lessons wherever I could get 'em. And I usually think of her when I'm standing there shaking that pan.

Now, THAT'S about the prettiest thing to grace these pages in Many a Moon!! It reminds me of those "braids" we all had to learn to bake in Home-Ec. Do any of you young folks ever take that anymore? The braid was round, and it had cinnamony sugar and maybe apples in it, and you cut it almost-through every so many inches with scissors and twisted the the slices to lie on alternate sides. Well, it was KINDA like this. I just cannot tell you what a joy this has been to look forward to every day---more of your pink kitchen and your beautiful recipes, and all the time and effort it took---everybody COOKS for their blogs, but I don't think anyone's ever shopped and cooked and mised and stayed at it EVERY MINUTE. Outstanding. And only here can someone shop and cook and go out and photograph and fry and bake and measure and blend, loving every minute and serving the family dinner at bedtime---and in the next breath, swear cause they have to go cook. Doncha just love it? PS PINK CHOPSTICKS!!!!!!! Mine are red; Chris' are black and green.

Calorific orgy, indeed!!! Neither Rome nor Herculaneum had no such late-night delicacies presented on the golden plate, I'll vow. Just amazing. More later---we're off to TN to meet the Georgia kids and Grands, so I'll have to wait til Sunday night for more of this---it's just wonderful. Thank you for the great compliment---being linked with Maggie in any way is always a gift. And for your concern---nothing visible from the quake, but it was interesting to say the least. Bye, now---I'm off to be the Wizard.

May we not have an update, with another picture now that you've claimed the kitchen for your own? And what WAS that first delicious repast? In the first house we built, we officially moved in on Christmas Eve; I came home to a huge car-sized bow on the front door and a pot of coffee perking. And it was just around the road from the "old" house so we sorta moved in pickups and wheelbarrows, even the boys' little red wagon. First lunch was tuna salad sandwiches on toast, because I could find a few things, after all the helpers set down stuff. For some silly reason, I remember the snick of the tuna cans as the can opener pierced each one---my first "cooking" in that brand new kitchen. (A dead ringer for the Brady Bunch's abode---Daddy asked what color, and I said "Orange countertops"---Alice woulda been right at home). This house---our BIG old black Franklin was one of the first things down the stairs, so I put on a pot of soup to simmer, and we officially "walked out" the back gate for the first time to get a sackful of deli meats, cheese, and bread. Lotsa miles on that old pathway by now---we've been here 9 1/2 years.

Good Morning!! Your dinner looks like Heaven on big white shiny plates. And the candlegleam through the iced tea (G.R.I.T.S. all the way---iced tea on the table, wine notwithstanding). I hope you're feeling better; mint on any kind of meat would send me to the showers---Chris did a little rack of lamb on the grill last night---I marinated it in a couple of tablespoons of the secret marinade he makes when he's doing tenderloins. We keep a little jug in the freezer, and just pour out a bit---it never gets quite solid. THEN when he brought it in, it was slick and shiny with some Baby Ray's Honey sauce. AND the fork-bite he proffered to me had a little snick of pale green mint jelly just behind it. I backed off, and he cut another bite, but I could still taste it from its touch to the fork tines. It was just creamy-tender, and very un-lamby---no taste of the game. WOIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO did you FEEL that??? We had one tremor this a.m. before I woke---Chris said it shook the computer screen, and DS#2 called to say it had rattled the china in the hutch. That was the second earthshake I've ever felt, despite living close to the New Madrid fault for many years. Thank you to Mike for all the dish-duty---I DID miss seeing the little round platter with the "log" handles, as I call it---mine has done cheeseball and shrimp mousse duty for a LONG time.

Good Night, Faraway Friend. I'll look forward to more of your sparkle tomorrow.

Just beautiful. Pink and green are my favorites, too. dish junkie rachel

I've been out on errands in the sunshine, Joe Cocker is blasting on the Bose, and here's this wonderful gathering to come to---life is nice. I also love the tiny Banshee cabinet---I'm dying to paint a huge knotty-pine cabinet that was built in the 50's and has darkened this corner much too long. I'm thinking cream, with maybe a few pale green accents. And I wouldn't tell my best friend what my children used to call tapioca.

And feisty dreams to all!

I don't wish you were here. I wisht I wuz there. I could just LIVE in that house, with all the pink and girlie stuff and dish stashes and endless vases of utensils and the upbeat little Susie Cooper shoes and Otis' pig butler, standing there like Jeeves at Windsor as he partakes. I'm dying to see what's all around the rail; I can see enticing colors, which could be anything. This is more than fun. It is HOME, in the most endearing, warm sense, with all sorts of cookbooks and things to cook with and on and reasons to. I've never been so comfortable in a screen-house before. I just look at the pages and step into the WARM.

Just scrumptious! Every word and every picture, and especially every bite!! Caro just shouted out an admiring WOW! for the bread pudding---I have a feeling it's on our menu, probably tomorrow. In every picture, I find another bowl, spice, or something we have in common---I'm floral-y and apple-y and all that Home-y stuff. Just lovely and welcoming and warm---what a nice visit.

Wow!!! To the double-OOMPH!! What a slumgullious dinner!! That apple julienne was just perfect, and it all LOOKED divine, not just the chicken. And Nancy always came down to breakfast, dressed for the day, and sat down at her place, where Hannah always immediately set down "a tall glass of orange juice." That was even more a signal of their wealth than was that maroon roadster and all those hats; our OJ was made up fresh every few days from the small Minute-Maid can. The carafe was clear glass, sporting bright, colorful red flowers all around; the floral motif was repeated on the teensy-pie glasses, each of which held barely three ounces. That was our ration, poured by me before the whole family sat down, the little Communion-cup of juice set precisely at the point of the knife. When I had a family of my own, we made up the BIG can almost every night, and usually drank it all out of nice big glasses the next morning. When my oldest nephew was about two, I set him up on the counter as I was finishing the supper dishes. I washed the juice bottle, took the thawed can from the fridge, smicked off the top, and poured it in. Nephew did a quick double-take and asked, "How'd you DO that? My Mom scoops it out with a spoon."

YAAAAAY!! I hoped it would be you---You've been blazing quite a trail across the "Dinner" thread, and this ought to be one fine ride. As to your cookbooks---I see so many familiar faces and titles, and would be right at home curled up with any of your volumes. I DID notice the full collection of "Cooking with Nancy Drew" displayed on your shelves---I can't quite make out all the titles---there's The Secret of the Sous Vide andThe Mystery of the Melting Marshmallows and for sure, a rare first edition of The Dining Detective. My shelves exactly. I'm so glad to finally SEE you!!! You and your home and kitchen are EXACTLY what I imagined.

Thank you, Chris, and MY Chris thanks you, too. He seldom reads one of these blogs (not that he gets much chance with me glued to the screen), but just mention smoke or butts or barbecue ( or just whisper the word Weberrrrr in his direction, and he levitates over to see what's going on). I love all your organized cabinets---my shopping gene got left out at birth, but I got TWO Storage genes. And the PB&J---I cannot tell you. Like jewelry. But I think my favorite of all the pictures is this sparkle of ingenuity: We've admired it, speculated on all its parts and usage, marveled at how CLEAN it looks to deal with all that smoke and grease, and agree that tomorrow, when I show it to our eight-month-old granddaughter, she'll take a happy look and say, "Noo-Noo!!" It's been great fun, and thanks again.

I KNEW that looked just like my bookcase!!

I'm speechless.

Muscles and mayhem are seldom my cup of tea at my quiet age, but this was just a gem. I've never queued up for admission to a greater-than-thou club of any kind, but do have memories of unquiet evenings and of the burly knights who soothed the clamor. I sat many a night at a table way off to the side, one reserved for those "with the band"---as Mom of the drummer, I've dodged a flying chair or two, and fended off pawing miscreants too far into the Johnnybottle; it was better just knowing those formidable fists and keen eyes were there to see to things. I DO wonder what great reward or sense of duty or pride in his work could call Madeline to such Herculean endeavors. The image of that great white inchworm figure at its most vulnerable lingers from the words---I cannot imagine the disturbance of dreams caused by the stark closeness of the actual event. Toby, Toby. The descriptions and reputation of your mixological gifts are awesome---but it makes me begrudge the time spent pouring, when you could be writing more of these.

I got ZERO results for Wegman's, but the City Planning Commission is doing studies for a Whole Foods downtown. I've never been there, but hear good things. I accidentally happened upon a fun site which led with the intriguing title. "What foods besides meat can you smoke?" And then, this, from the same folks---seems tailor made for YOU: Bacon Vodka And EC Jif, honey, celery sticks. Plebeian, easy, will almost pass for a salad. Sometimes we pretend it is.

We used the littlest of the Baby Reds, and left the skins on. And we have only the store-source for asparagus, potatoes, sweet potatoes, etc., and the results are always pretty fine. The potatoes were just always called "stewed" when made that way, and whole friendships were made and lost on whether the black pepper went in early or late. It was a churchladies' joust, much like the Gulliver's Big and Little Endians. Some held that early pepper made the sauce "muddy" and others said that the pepper just "made" the dish. And then there were the handfuls-of-cheese proponents, the one bull-yon cube renegades, as well as the onion-tops afficionados. Now THOSE were the ones who could make a dish of potatoes---I've never eaten better vichyssoise than a few of those dishes of country-kitchen stewed potatoes, with fresh-from-the-ground potatoes, lots of chive-small onion tops, shredded into dainty rounds, sometimes home-churned butter and cream fresh skimmed from the pan-tops. And "creamed" potatoes were the local vernacular for mashed potatoes, in which more of the cream-thicker-than-the-potatoes enriched and enfattened, along with butter and salt. These two humble dishes, all from what the cooks had in the pantry, are outstanding examples of make-do becoming magnificent. Going into Mammaw's kitchen and lifting the lid on the big Wearever, to reveal a pepper-and-onion-topped pot of stewed potatoes---Sunday every day.

Ice cream for breakfast!!! It SOUNDS and looks delicious. What is the flavor---is there fruit in there, or a caramelly layer? When they grill it, does it stick to the grill?

With Bacon ascending.

Chocolate, charcuterie, and our own Rocket Scientist!!! This should be a roller-coaster week.

I look on these glimpses into new-found friends' lives AS presents, and look forward to every one. And re-read old favorites from time to time. The best re-gift there is.

I think this is my favorite of all the year-to-year recurring threads. Just the home and family of it, the ages of history and tradition, the warmth of the candles and hearth and people around the table, generation after generation. "Laundried chicken" That's what happens to the big ole hen simmered for dumplings---she's dragged out of the broth and dismembered into pale, rich pieces, sometimes left on a plate as part of the main dish. I love seeing you all swap recipes and memories.

Were the tendrils presented raw, straight from the plant, as salad/garnish? I've munched a strand or two on occasion, when their tender little selves clung too closely and were ripped inadvertently from the plant. Even the microscopic little filia were tender and green-tasting. And pea leaves---delicious. Peas seem to be more tolerant of Indiana's foibles of weather---I remember well the admonition of a Hoosier friend when I asked her of planting times "up here." She pondered, "Well, about mid-MAAAAAY is safe." And May anywhere else we've lived would have had the peas up, wound up, picked, eaten, the stringy, leggy vines uprooted to make way for other peas or even cucumbers, and the fresh green mouthfuls just a wistful memory. But here---Nobody seems to have a seed in the ground---we're lucky to get lows of 40 before tax-time, and the four gallant little Early Girls in their small plastic pots are out soaking up what passed for sunshine today. They'll spend the night in the upstairs kitchen sink, as usual, til weather bids fair for planting. Mud-luscious, we are, as well. Were George Clooney and company to remake Oh, Brother, we could supply a fresh crop of Soggy Bottom Boys, right from our own back yard. But the woody old grapevine across the garage seems to be enjoying this wet---it's pliable and beginning to green up. Or maybe moss over.