snowangel

Oooh...the one at Lake and Nicollet in Minneapolis. If you show up after bar call time, they always give you one less slider than you order. When you go back to complain, they holler "you're drunk and can't count." My kids think stopping at the White Castle in Hinkley, MN (on the way to the cabin; we're sober at the time) is a way big, big treat. "Oh, dad, sliders. Will we start to have slider farts before we get to the cabin?"

Idaho (or Minnesota ) russets. And, yes, I do olive oil and kosher salt them before baking...

Yes. I am of the butter/baked potato taste, therefore shall my children be.

Right under the space for introduction, there should be a line that says something like "have a list of ingredients? Try adding ingredients with the "Ingredient Wizard." All you should have to do is click on the words (button) "Ingredient Wizard." Maybe your browser doesn't support this? Vengroff, any ideas?

Fingers. In many parts of the world, and I'd bet that everyone started eating with fingers.

We have baked potatos often. If I'm in a real hurry, I'll start them in the microwave, then into my big toaster oven at 450. I want crispy skin, fluffy inside. One of my kids won't eat the skins. Not a problem -- cut in half, scoop out inside. I get the crispy skin filled with butter -- enough so it drops down my arms when I pick them up with my hands. All five in my family prefer then with butter and freshly ground black pepper. I don't often put out sour cream for them because the kids think that the potato would be a vehicle for cups of sour cream. Leftover baked potatos are great diced or shredded, fried until crispy and served with that other perfect food, the egg, over easy on top.

When I'm in that condition, I have three big glasses of water, a mess of ibuprofen, and go to bed. It seems to be worse with wine than vodka, gin, whiskey, etc.

It is 1:07 a.m. I just viewed a message from Jason. I WANT that sandwich that is featured in his avatar. No make, it I NEED that sandwich.

What a wonderful time of year. Emerging everything. First daffodil bloomed today. I have quit measuring things. We had a very dry winter, and I think the lack of early snow cover was not particularly kind to one of my azaleas, and I'm worried about my mongo wisteria, but other things are moving like crazy. Once again, as I have every year since we moved into our house, I spring from bed a first light, grind the coffee, set the coffee maker to on, take a shower, grab that first cup of Joe and bound outside to see what the day will bring. I spent the better part of last week watching things grow. Laundry be damned. The crown of spinach on my compost heap is glorious (and tasty), and I have scratched in lettuce (many varieties) in all of the holes in my perennial gardens that will be filled in by said perennials long after the greens have bolted or been eaten. Our bodies are gradually losing the neon white of winter and we are looking very healty and happy. Today was a day for running in the sprinkler and watching the daffodils bloom. Peter set the the timer and we checked them every 15 minutes. Peter got his first outdoor buzz cut of the year. The interior of my house is a wreck. There are a bazillion loads of laundry stacked up. But, what is more important? Clean clothes or dirty fingernails? I think the latter. Paul and I were sort of child-free this evening (Peter and Diana and my mom and dad's, Heidi passed out at 6:30 pm from too much outside fun) and dined al fresco, under our pergola with the icicle lights, on leftover poached salmon, that compost spinach (lightly dressed with EVOO and fresh strawberries), and each other ( ). All bug-free. Life is SO good.

Yes. I asked my dad about this. He grew up on a farm in NE and slaughtered and butchered his first cow when he was 13 (4-H project). Years later, he married my mother, and put himself through grad school by working for her father (a grocer) as a butcher. This would have been after he was a marine aircraft carrier pilot, but before he created a department of agricultural economics at a univ. in Thailand. This stint at the grocery would have been late 50's, early 60's, in Lincoln, NE, back in the days of a true, full-service grocery. Most of the beef they sold was not dry aged, but they did offer this as a service to their customers. Customers would request dry aged beef. My dad would go to a "cow place," help select and slaughter the cow. He'd haul the whole sides back to the grocery in the back of his 57 Chevy stationwagon; his brother following behind with more sides in the back of their folks pick-up if necessary. They would hang them in the meat locker. Every so often, my dad would go in and scrape the mold off of them. # of days? Somewhat determined by schedule. Since he knew the guy at the "cow place" really well, they would usually do this on a Sunday afternoon. Since the grocery was closed on Sunday afternoons, he'd usually go and cut up the aged side on a Sunday, 4 weeks following the butchering, but, again, this depended on how many sides were hanging and aging. Light, humidity, temp, all played a part in this, and how many sides would greatly influence this. Further, since they were a "full service" grocery, my dad knew exactly how every customer wanted their side cut, and how many/weight of each thing should be packaged, i.e., 2 t-bones per package. For those customers who didn't have a deep freeze, they would store the meat, frozen, for each customer, labeled appropriately. And, since this was back in the days when they delivered groceries, Mrs. X could call on a Friday, order her groceries and a particular quantity and cut of "her" meat and they would deliver it. My mom and I (a tot at this point) would deliver. My mom remembers that the wife of the guy who owned the Studebaker dealership would leave her back door open and we'd take the groceries in, and put those that needed to go in the fridge or freezer in the appropriate place (my mom also noted that we did not put away the non-perishables). My mom also remembers that every time we delivered groceries and she wasn't at home, the plates from the previous meal (unscraped) were always stacked inside the fridge. So, that's what I know about aging beef. My dad says that doing it in your fridge will not present the same results. Odors, inability to control the temp of the fridge (because of how often it is opened), inability to control humidity (because of all of the other stuff in the fridge). It can make the beef taste better, but it is no substitute for beef aged in a meat locker fridge thing (techno talk).

Bacon. Bean and cheese burritos with lots of little thai chilis. Larp. Salami sandwich on toast (open face) with lots of Malle mustard. Leftover steak. I'm not of the open a container and get a spoon school.

Ditto.

And, this statement says would why you are the Goddess of the Heartlands.

A couple more: "But mommy, why can't we eat the big goldfishy fish in your garden pond?" asked Peter coyly. (assuming homonyms apply, but then again, just about anything probably goes with egullet ) And, finally, because one so rarely uses the adverb in the following: "I can't believe you'd serve me fries fried in lard," his vegetarian friend protested unctiously.

Tom Swifties. I have not had a "witty" week. All of the kids have colds and are whiny. But, here goes: "Why Klink, let me count the ways...brisket, kielbasa, ribs, pork shoulder..." murmurred Batgrrrl smokily. "Waiter, I ordered this steak black and blue, not well done" beefed Jinmyo rawly. "A cornichone. Just an expensive dill pickle if you ask me," sneered Bertha sourly. "Honey, don't forget to butter and flour the cake pan" said Mom dryly. "Darling, but that salad is a 3-day garlic commitment; eat it and you sleep alone" informed his beloved odoriferously.

Our local paper -- Minneapolis Star Tribune -- has small articles, featuring a couple of rhubarb recipes, three or four times a year. I guess that makes sense, because when I look around my neighborhood, 80% of the yards have at least one rhubarb plant. From today's Taste section (including a chutney): Rhubarb recipes

Potato leek soup, leek and asparagus soup, Mamster's Leek and Onion Tartlets, carrot/leek gratin (PM me for recipe; I haven't added it to archive yet), roasted with other spring root vegetables are some of the ones that come to mind.

I make this one once a month. Although I've memorized the recipe, I still have the card, written by my great, great grandmother. It's my kids favorite. I've put it in the recipe archive: Burnt Sugar Cake About a year ago, Peter was at the grocery with me. We were in the baking aisle. He asked "Mom, what are in these boxes," and I replied "cake mixes." His response "Wow. How do those work?"

Burnt Sugar Cake I make this cake about once a month; the kids love it. I still have the original recipe card, written by my great grandmother, so it is an oldie, but goodie. Comfort food. Cake 2/3 c White sugar 1/4 c Boiling water 1/2 c Butter 1-1/2 c White sugar 3 Eggs, separated 2-1/2 c All purpose flour (divided) 1 c Cold water 2 tsp Baking powder 1 tsp Salt 2 tsp Vanilla Frosting 1 c White Sugar 1 c Whipping (heavy) cream Preheat oven to 350. In small skillet, burn 2/3 c. sugar until dark amber; remove from heat. Add boiling water carefully (it will steam and sputter. You may have to add a bit more water. Set aside to cool. Cream butter. Add sugar, beat well. Add egg yolks, vanilla and cold water, again beat well. Add two cups of flour. Add burnt sugar, being careful to NOT scrape out the pan -- just pour and leave some of the burnt sugar in the skillet. In separate bowl, beat egg whites until stiff peaks form. Fold beaten whites into batter with 1/2 cup flour and baking powder . Pour into prepared pan(s) -- three 9" round layers, one 9 x 13, or a bunch of cupcakes, depending on how full you fill them. My kids really like the cupcakes filled to the point that the batter sort of overflows, leaving nice crisp little "collars" around them. My grandmother always said that the tradition was to first eat the collars, making a wish with every bite. Bake until barely done -- cake springs back and a toothpick comes out almost clean. When the cake is cool, make frosting. DO NOT WASH SKILLET WITH BURNT SUGAR WHILE YOU ARE WAITING FOR CAKE TO COOL. For the frosting, in the skillet, add the cream and sugar. Cook until the burnt sugar mixes in with the cream and sugar and pour into a saucepan. Continue cooking, stirring constantly, until the frosting reaches the soft ball stage. Remove from heat, and beat (with a wooden spoon) until just before spreadable -- if you beat it too long, the frosting may become a little to hard to spread, especially if you are doing layers or cupcakes. I usually burn a bit more sugar and double the frosting recipe -- particularly if I am doing layers. One must make sure that there is enough frosting left in the saucepan for licking. Keywords: Dessert, Intermediate, Cake ( RG424 )

Very easy to grow. Stick it in the ground and watch it grow. If you know someone who has a rhubarb plant, ask them for some.

Why, one should never "buy" a rhubarb crown. They come with a history. Mine came from a farm in Southern MN which has been in the family of my bestest friend ever for 125 years. The leaves. While inedible, they do make lovely weed preventing mulch. I trim them in the garden, lay them down, and voila, not even creeping charlie creeps under them. My kids absolutely love custard pie with rhubarb. Not the old recipe where you lay rhubarb in before pouring in the custard, but custard pie with roasted rhubarb on top. The combo of silky/sweet, and the roasted rhubarb is awesome (to quote Peter). Nix on the strawberry/rhubarb combo. After a long winter, it's finally spring, and my rhubarb is up, and I will be harvesting within a month (or 6 weeks). I'm thinking of rhubarb chutney. Anyone tried this?

In the summer, my kids live on them, ala Jaymes. Microwave if it's really hot out. Frypan if it's not. Diana was making these, all by herself (I'd pre-grate cheese in 1/4 lb. quantities), in the microwave when she was four. She taught Peter when he was about 4. Diana learned to love salsa (with lots of peppers) when she was about 4, too. By the time she was just over 5, she could handle the frypan (with supervision), but she was responsible young. I'm of the "if you teach them early, it's really easy on mommy" school of thought.

Gardening books, seed and plant catalogues. Peter (age 7) is reading me Harry Potter (outloud; we're on #4) and Nate the Great. Awbrig, Emory would probably really like Nate the Great.

In Minneapolis (world headquarters of Target), Super Targets are popping up everywhere. I find them to have more of a "full" grocery than Sam's Club of Costco. The big grocery chain here is Cub, but I most often find myself at Kowalskis, which is a true "full service" grocery. No hunting down someone to help you find anything, great meat, seafood and fish counters. The produce is awesome. And, if they don't have it at my local branch (smaller than most), they'll have it by 9:00 am the next morning. I think I may pay a little more (not necessarily if I shop what's on special), but they bag my groceries for me (not true at most Twin Cities supermarkets), and will carry them out for me. If it's raining, they even have an umbrella for me so I can get to the car -- dry. Come to think of it, if I arrive, and it's pouring, one of the carry out people will run out with an umbrella for me. One of the big differences for me between Kowalski's and Cub/Super Target is that they are close to my house, and for some reason, every time I go, I'm in and out and home in about half of the time of the latter stores.

Six of us at a resort up north. Five of us had gone fishing very early in the morning, caught a mess of sunnies and perch, and filleted them. Out walks Kay; it is 11:00 am, at a fairly primative resort. Kay is in full make-up and a silk dress. We're all ready to go for a swim, so Kay asks what she can do. We suggest that she breads the fish because we'll be ready to eat the minute we do our shore-island-shore swim. We return, dripping. Kay is sitting at the table with a loaf of bread, wrapping each fillet in a slice of bread, and securing said slice of bread with a toothpick. Kay was clueless about many things. Her boyfriend said that he had only "uncovered one talent."