maggiethecat

Innocente: Welcome! Stick around and contribute. But be warned: Innocence wears off quickly at eGullet.

I had better get those curtains hemmed and up fast! Please tell me you don't live just outside Chicago. And mashed potatoes. Yes! How could I forget a nice dish of mashtees? My slovenly and fast emergency method is : Nuke a couple of nice sized bakers for about five minutes, or until done. (Actually, make that large bakers.) Peel without burning yourself too badly. Place in nice wide bowl. Add butter to taste...like eight tablespoons. Salt and pepper. Big handful of the best cheese you possess. Mash roughly with a fork. In the Clutches of PMS Carb Fury, I can leave lumps the size of charcoal briquettes. Pour half cup of heavy cream over all. Give it a stir. Nuke it for about ten seconds. Fast forward to the end of "Notorious", where Cary Grant finally realizes he's been a fool all along. Watch him carry Ingrid Bergman down that staircase. Sob. Eat. Sob. Eat. Hey, don't worry about the carbs. Xena mode is next day. Get those boots on and kick butt.

22965

Mamster: You live close to the border. OK, not so close. But: I cannot name names...been away too long...but very good, very dry cider has been made in Quebec for years. Next time you're in Vancouver, check it out.

22, 605. 4.28 miles.

Anyone for tennis?

22,514.

I am one of those nauseating women who never felt or looked better than while preggers. No strong cravings, though I seem to remember eating lots of buttery baked potatoes during my first trimester. Weirdest? My mother, pregnant with twins. Still supermodel thin. Her cravings? Parsley and Scotch Mints. I remember a gardening neighbour would present her with with big bouquets of parsley. More appreciated than out-of-season violets. No pregnant woman ever had fresher breath!

But knowing you, dear Lady T, that yowling is perfectly phrased, perfectly on-key and resonant enough to reach the last row of the balcony! Yes. I have noted the phenom you mention.

Beg to disagree, oh revered one. But Lady: You gotta be making this up!

TMI in a thread by and for women?! tsk tsk on your whisk Simon. Day 24 cravings: FRENCH FRIES nothing is so good as french fries at that time, bacon cheeseburgers, carbs & fat, pretty much. Really don't crave sweets that much. Only rarely. And if I do it would be in the form of fried dough, aka donuts. there's a small gelateria by my house that makes killer donuts (krispy kreme ain't got nothin' on these) mmm they make ones that have lemon peel in the glaze... mmmm Ah, how could I have forgotten doughnuts? Plain glazed in quantity. Tisk tisk, indeed!

McChef: My brother's followup: Why don't men get Mad Cow Disease? They can't. They're pigs. Ladies: You know how, if you work with a bunch of women closely for some time, you all start cycling together? I'd be interested in the calendars of female eGullet regulars!

Snowy: Yup. Come to my house on day twenty four! Carb, fat , egg, pork freakout.

Colonel: Although I hang on your posts, didn't you see : No Boyz Allowed? Batgrrrl: Your chocolate coke. A PMS classic!

I have noticed in the past few days, odd mentions of an eGullet Sister or three who has admitted to, er, unnatural food cravings during That Time of the Month. For me, it is basically anything that isn't chained down. Except that apples and broccoli can rest easy. Likewise lettuce. And for me it's not chocolate. Carbs and fat, my Sistergirls! Fried! Heavy cream. Triple cheeseburgers. Bacon. Pasta alla Carbonara a special favorite. I will admit to eating (raw) ramen noodles. I have shared, and bared, ladies. What should I bring out if you come to visit me on Day 24?

22,264. Gad! 4.27 miles.

22,268

Lucky Duck! 21,910.

21,685

Thanks for the suggestions, Suzanne. I might have to pick up a copy of the "Wedding Traditions" one for my Polish-American buddy Stef, a former work-mate. She went to, conservatively, thirty Polish-American weddings a year, and was the proverbial Giant Kielbasa of knowledge. How at a real Polish wedding, there's a basic bar set-up at every table, so that Uncle Zbig doesn't have to hold an empty glass while waiting in line at the real bar. Wedding parties of twenty-four couples. The priest and the wedding party coming to the bride's mother's home for some breakfast pierogi and a few healthy shots before the service. The generosity of the guests: it is usually assumed that the young couple will have a down payment for a house at the end of the evening. A friend of hers actually hired a bodyguard to protect him while he carried the cash and checks home after his daughter's nuptials. When asked if she was going out to dinner/movie/getaway vacation, Stef always sadi: "Can't. Another damn wedding to save for!"

21, 546. Yeah, I used to think I had a cookbook collection!

21,438. Or, 4.06 miles.

21, 238. And that's not nearly representative of membership! I'm afraid to do the average thing.

Duh. No!

We listened tonight to Marta Argerich play the complete Chopin preludes. Buy the CD. One thing I adore about Polish weddings, If you live in Chicago, minimum attendance, four hundred, is going though the reception line. The father/grandfather/uncles of the bride have the most beautiful heads of silver hair imaginable. Bill Clinton would kill for that hair. But the best thing: If you are a woman, these attractive men click their heels and kiss your hand. Tremendously old-fashioned and romantic, I read, probably in the Times, a couple of years ago, that hand-kissing was a tradition that Poles would not renounce for the Soviets. You can hear it in the Chopin. Polish sausage, Polish hospitality, hand-kissing and pierogi: I bend the knee. But please, what else should I know about Polish cuisine? Edit: Late night spelling.