Badiane

That's it...Elmer Fudd!!! Exactly. I knew Porky Pig wasn't quite right. Although the resemblance was shocking. I have so many 'I met him on the Internet' dating horror stories...too bad most of them aren't even remotely food related. I did meet my wonderful, patient, caring, very funny husband on the net tho - so it can be done. He is living proof that a non-foodie CAN be reformed into a complete and total cheese snob. I know, because I have created that monster

Like I said, at least I can laugh about it now. I am here to tell you tho, that a deeply food oriented woman can in fact find complete bliss with a man who won't eat anything that had more than four legs and was once famous for his five day'er casserole that he would assemble on Sunday night, bake, eat some for dinner and then leave in the oven all week. Just come home from work, flip the oven on, make food hot, dish up, turn off oven and return food to said oven for storage. Yup. Iron constitution, my husband. It will kill him one day. I do have another internet dating story that is sort of food related - it's almost as bad as the first one, but not quite Another blind date...you would think I would learn. Picks me up in his pickup...wants to take me to his 'favowite westewant'. He had a wierd speech issue of some kind - sort of a Porky Pig thing completely unrelated to any kind of hearing impairment or other disability - this time I was rude and asked (nicely). Soooo...the 'favowite westewant' turned out to be 'Wed Wobstew' somewhere in the states that is at least an hour drive from here and required a cross border experience. All the way there he regaled me with tales of woad wage from his job as a twuck dwivew. He also told me all about his ex giwfwend, Wobin. Okay, if I was called Robin, I would not date a guy who talked like that. So, we get to Wed Wobstew. Never been there before or since. I am cringing behind my menu and trying to hide but no such luck. He asks the waitress for an order of Motzawella Sticks to start. Okay. So I am still cringing behind the menu, waiting for inspiration when the waitress drops the fried cheese on the table. I hear the plate slide and the the most unholy snarfling and snuffling and smacking that I have ever heard. I thought he was choking to death so I threw the menu across the room and lept to my feet, all ready to Heimlich him. He looked up at me and the lower half of his face was covered in grease and crumbs and he says "Oh, you didn't want any, did you? I saved you the mawinawa sauce, it's good on the biscuits" Okay...now that should be the end of the story...I managed to get him to take me home pretty quick by pretending I was sick. Should be the end of the story...but no. He kept calling me and leaving messages about how fun it was, and how much he liked me and how much he wanted to see if we could have a welationship, because our evening ended before he got to 'touch my soul with his lips'. Yes. That is what he said. Actually he said wips...but you get the idea. Fast forward three weeks. I went to the movies - by myself - and as I was short cutting past the Xray Clinic up the alley to my apartment I heard some singing - and I could see the neighbors out on their balconies hooting and laughing. Yup. Porky Pig is parked outside my building. Standing in the bed of his pickup. Wearing a suit and holding some roses, and, for some inexplicable reason, a bucket of KFC. Drunk. And singing. "Yew awe once, twice, fwee times a Wady....and I wuuuuv you...." Egged on by three old ladies, a bum, a crazy drug dealer and the crack ho that lived upstairs (not the best building to live in). I snuck around the block, in the back door, up to my apartment and called the cops. They came and arrested him for being drunk and causing a public disturbance. His truck disappeared around 9 the next morning. I never heard from him again.

It was a blind date...internet dating is a crapshoot, but hey, I was reckless and bored. So dude shows up at the door...email confabs and photos confirmed that he was somewhat athletic (I am not) and that he was a distance runner (I am SO not). Works as a therapist of some kind (should have been a clue). So I open the door to a man who is at least 15 years older than his photo...who is clearly no longer an athletic type because he has either suffered a stroke or been injured in some way. I wasn't rude enough to ask. I figured what the heck, he seemed nice in the email, and it's only coffee. We get out to his truck and there is a) a german shepherd in the back seat and b) a blanket over the front seat were I am to sit. I get in, and he says 'sorry about the blanket, I didn't have time to vacuum the dog hair'. Alrighty then. We go about 5 blocks to the local coffee bar (with the dog growling at me all the way because I am in her seat) and go inside. I don't like this man already and am plotting ways to get away. He stares at the menu on the wall and asks the poor barista about 30 questions about the various drinks and then orders a plain cup of coffee, small. I ordered my usual, some kind of sugar free mocha thing, which comes with one of those chocolate sticks. We sit down and I am straining to be polite but it's hard. I pick up the chocolate stick and am about to stick it in my mouth when he grabs my hand and the following ensues: Him: Do you really need to eat that? ME: HUH? Him: Well, you clearly have weight issues. ME: WHAAAAAA? Him: Well, you have a 'pretty face' but face it, you are fat. You should show some self control and not eat everything you can get your hands on. ME: WHAT THE F*(#*@*$Q(#@$YQ(@*&$(&$#*(&!$(&%(#&$)!@$)%()!*@)Q#&%#&(@%)*#%)*#)*%)*)#*)#*%)*)!%)(&!$)& AND JUST EXACTLY WHO THE H!)(@U#)*@#*&!)@*$)@$*)!@&$)*&!@)$&)!@*# ARE YOU ANYWAY BLEEEEEEEEEEP BLEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP !@#!@$#$%@^$@&$%*&$* Him: Well done. That was a very impressive display. Now everyone knows how well you can swear. Did that make you feel grown up? ME: Chuck you, Farley. Him: Now that you have that out of your system, let's get back to your weight issues. Tell me what your Mother is like. ME: AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH. (followed by me running away and locking myself in my apartment.) Of course I can laugh about it now. We have a few mutual friends...we saw him at a party last year. I am married and very happy with a man who loves me, warts and all. He still has his dog.

They look fantastic...I personally would call them 'bollengebakken'...but hey, my sole experience cooking dutch food is 3 months making massive amounts of Nasi Goreng in a Dutch Deli/Produce shop. I only know about 10 dutch words - and 5 of those are rather rude. I am going to do the butter braised beef this weekend...I keep having to put it off, much to my chagrin.

There is an Emeril Lagasse recipe over on Foodnetwork.com for something like Stuffed Chicken Legs in Puff Pastry with Andouille Cream...no picture, but sounds impressive.

Puddings made with whole milk Mashed egg salad Mashed potato salad Mashed Sweet Potatoes Avocados Cottage Cheese with pureed fruit or vegetables Custards...I often make a pumpkin pie filling with silken tofu blended into it for my Dad when he is having issues eating. Fruit purees mixed with yogurt...also nice frozen. V-8 Juice Milkshakes...but eaten with a spoon...you don't want to be using a straw after oral surgery. Also, meal replacement shakes can come in handy...stuff like Ensure. Good if you have to go out and aren't sure if you will get caught short.

I'm curious, Ling...how many indecent dessert based propositions to you get by PM every day? I'd give my considerable thighs to spend a day eating all that dessert. Everything looks just beautiful, she says as she shoves another spoonful of sugar free chocolate pudding in her mouth

I have a Russian Mennonite background as well...we call them Portzelky...I'm sure that's not the authentic spelling, but that's what's in the Mennonite Treasury cookbook. Congratulations on the coming baby...we will have to have a chat sometime...my brother is a mennonite minister living in New Westminster...we can play the mennonite game and see how many people we have in common!

The worst part about the perfume is that it came from my husband... It's extra fancy because it's "Pink Musk". Alrighty then. I love him anyway. The brie is indeed locked tight inside a can. Doesn't require refrigeration, either. It was accompanied by one of those cheese board sets that is so large it has a drawer. It's under the bed because we don't know where to put it or what to do with it. We'd need about 8 pounds of cheese to fill it up. Of course it is just the two of us, and we only entertain outside of our miniscule apartment....I may set up that new dress as a tent and have a neighbourhood cheese tasting. And the ice wine...all 18 bottles...is a decidedly urine yellow. I can tell because it is bottled in clear beer bottles. With a screw top. We opened one last night in the interest of culinary science. Kind of like cough syrup. Might be okay in a vat of fruit punch where you just want to get some kind of booze into it to drown the pain of being at yet another event where they are serving fruit punch

Oh Lord, Moosh...those are ghastly. I would hide them in a closet and only bring them out when those particular folks come to call. Serve strong margaritas in them and pretend you are in a cheap dive in Mexico. Oy. I dont' know...is there enough tequila to blur that vision I too have been a victim. This Christmas alone I recieved a splendid boxed set of Jovan Musk perfume <gack> Then there is the 5 pound bar of 'bitter chocolate flavoured' candy that I got (we know how you like good chocolate, dear). And the 'jellies of the world' basket (we know how you like to make jam, dear). And the 'brie in a can' (we know how you like the fancy cheese, dear) and the bottles of Ubrew Ice Wine (we made a whole batch just for you guys, we know how you like the fancy wine). I don't even want to know what that might taste like. I don't know what kind of accident will wipe it out, but if anyone has any ideas.... Of course there is the yearly parade of clothing that is either inappropriately styled from someone such as myself (sleeves, people, I want sleeves) or nice but freakishly huge - I know I'm a big girl, but sister dear, no one in this family is a size XXXXXXL. I kid you not. I don't even have a hanger big enough. And last but not least, all the sugar coated treats, the 10 boxes of Pocky, the box of chinese rolled cookies, the chocolates and all the rest of the things people gave me all the while knowing full well I am diabetic and can't eat that stuff.

I do cook with Quince...purchased from an extremely eccentric Italian couple with an incredible array of fruit trees. I am still trying to unload about 4 pounds of product from the 'Great Quince Paste Experiment'. This is the weekend it is all finding new homes with my unsuspecting siblings. I have also made a number of jams and jellies, chutney and pie. It's good stuff, and very cheap, so it's an easy target for experiments. It also appeals to me on a heritage level...I am very interested in preserving our past through the food, and have a deep love of cooking with heritage recipes and techniques.

Hmmmm...I guess you could push in the salt by kneading with minimal damage. Or you could to the old slice, sprinkle with salt and bake...give them an appropriate name, make up something fancy, and you are golden. I wouldn't bother with the vanilla. We always had it drilled into us in Culinary School that if you have used good quality chocolate, there is no need for vanilla. The only reason anyone would add vanilla to a chocolate recipe would be to cover up the use of an inferior product. I have always followed that principal and never use vanilla...it masks the beauty of the chocolate. But that's me. You might want to criss cross them with vanilla icing for that vanilla hit.

Chilliwack is about 70 miles east of Vancouver...an hour or so of steady driving, which isn't too bad. We'd love to have you visit the area if you are so inclined! I think you would want to come in the growing season, when there is plenty of interesting food to be had. I live very close to Anita's, and drive by her mill at least once a week on my way to the cheese shop. The grain is purchased from certified organic suppliers in BC, Alberta and Saskatchewan, and is ground as it is ordered, so it's not sitting around waiting to be bought. Here's a clickety to her website for you. Anita's Organic Grain and Flour Mill

Since we are all pulling down our genes and showing our privates, I will divulge that at the ripe old age of 40, I recently (last week) learned that I am an 'Octoroon'. I had no idea. Oh I knew my birth mother was 1/4 black, but until I overheard two little old ladies at a Christmas Bazaar pointing at my mother and saying 'that's Mrs. Peters...you know, they adopted that little Octoroon baby' I have to say I had NO idea. None. The fact that said adoption was 41 years ago not withstanding, it was a shock Good Lord...41 years later and that's all you can think of to say? Struck me dumb. Anywho...never had that casserole...not at any family gathering of any family I have. I personally think the dish has it's roots in southern kitchens that employed black women as cooks...these women just dreamt up something foul and fed it to the white folks as a little 'stick it to the boss' kind of a deal...and it appears to have worked, so good for them!

I am just waiting for the day that I am 'old enough' to join the Red Hat Ladies. It's amazing to me that at my age, there is still something that I am not 'old enough' to do I can't wait. They always seem to be having such a great time. I don't care how loud and annoying they get, they have earned it. They aren't slouching around feeling sorry for themselves...they are standing tall and proud and they are still in the game and that is a wonderful thing. I personally am waiting for my 75th birthday, when I shall don the Red Hat, and backed by a group of my similarly clad cronies, march into the finest restaurant in the vicinity, march up to a well dressed young man, snatch the pork chop right off his plate, hop on his lap and holler 'ya weren't gonna eat that, were ya, Sonny?' It's a crazy little old lady fantasy of mine

Three suggestions...one might work for you. 1) Put water in the pot to whatever level the stuff is burned on...drop in a couple of denture cleaning tablets and let it sit for a couple of hours. That takes the rock hard calcified crap out of my stainless coffee mug, so should work for a pot. 2) Try boiling water and baking soda together...put enough water in to cover, and a healthy handful of soda and let it boil for a while. 3) Coca Cola...if it takes the rust off metal, well, I can't see why it wouldn't eat through that Good luck!

In 2006, I will eat and laugh and dance. I will make sense out of the mess that is my pantry. I will find the pasta machine and start making flatbread crackers. I will learn how to make a good tasting meal without adding a pound of butter. I will teach my husband how to make dinner reservations. I will read all my Bourdain books again. In the bathtub with a glass of wine. This is the year I will try to stop examining the past and embrace the future. I will taste as many things from Oyama Sausage as humanly possible. I will use an apron and stop ruining good clothes by wiping my hands on my butt. I will give more time to my parents and siblings, and feed them more, often. I am a very happy person. I will spread the joy with jars of jam and loaves for bread for everyone. We love each other to distraction. My kids better not be concieved this year. God Bless the Mommies and the Daddies of the world...I envy you not.

I made caramels last night...here's my recipe 1/2 pound butter...melted in a big pot 3 cups granulated sugar 2 cups light corn syrup 1 can condensed milk 1 tablespoon white vinegar 1/2 teaspoon salt Melt the butter in the pot first, then toss the rest in and stir. Bring to a boil and cook over medium heat until it reaches the hard ball stage. Pour onto a parchment lined baking sheet or cake pan - depending on how thick you want them. We like ours thinner and flatter, so I use a medium sized baking sheet. If you want really fat thick ones, I would use a 9x9 cake pan. Just know that the thicker they are, the harder they are to cut. I wear an oven mitt on the hand I use to press down on the knife...less painful that way.

Chilliwack...think Chilliwack...come to Chilliwack...get it set up...I will check on it nightly for you...we only have four decent restaurants, and one of those is a breakfast place...we need you more than Langley does.

I'm really enjoying this blog, Jamie. To the point that it's interferring with my work... These little teasers you keep throwing up about the coming posts are a little like chinese water torture What am I going to do until you post that Chez Jim review? Oh yeah...I'm at work...I'm supposed to be training these people...sigh.

A couple of weeks ago I made 3 quarts of preserved lemons...I couldn't fit enough in the jar when they were still attached at the bottom, so I just cut them all the way through. Seems to have worked fine. Probably the reason the 7 day ones don't last as long is because the smaller pieces deteriorate faster than the bigger ones. I don't think you are going to have any problems. I will offer this advice tho...if for any reason you decide to dump them out of the jar and repackage them in smaller jars, wear rubber gloves. The salt/lemon juice combo burned the crap out of my hands.

I cheaped out and bougth a Martha Stewart candy thermometer at Sears, which is where Martha sells her stuff in Canada. It's awesome...super easy to read and it's very accurate. I am feeling very smug for having spent only 6 bucks when the ones on the other side of the aisle were around $25 Say what you will about Martha, but I have never bought a Martha product that was not as good or better than it's more expensive counterparts.

Ling, is that a list of stuff you ate over the weekend? You should print that on laminated cards and send them to all the chefs you know in a Christmas card. I have to find some bitter oranges...I just had a vision of white chocolate cups with bitter orange filling.

I can't help with a source for what you are looking for, but I would be delighted share my just finished Icelandic Christmas Cake (Vineterta) Or at least give you the recipe. One of my mom's friends is Icelandic, so I called her...she said she's never, in all her 65 years of living in this country, found anything close to the food from home outside of a small area in Manitoba where some of her family settled. So if you do come up with anything, I would love to hear about it. She would be thrilled. There is a club... Icelandic Canadian Club of BC (604) 515-1224 939 Sixth Street New Westminster, BC V3L 3C8 Maybe they can help!

I was so going to post that when I got to the end, and tell her to PM you for the details!!!! Don't waste your money on the bleu cheese...if they won't eat lamb, you can bet they don't eat cheese outside of what is found wrapped in plastic or in a pouch with those little noodles I'm making the braised beef on Saturday night...once we saw the pictures, we were hooked.