maggiethecat

Glenn...haven't visited the shops, but thanks for the cool links!

And Hermits! How I love them! Does anyone have a recipe to share? And a theory on the etemology involved with the name?

I'm fairly sure that most veg can be grown from seed, but in many cases, why bother? Brussel sprouts, for one. I just give the garden center my buck fifty for three. BTW, even is you hate sprouts, grow them at least once. They are such a magic-looking sight. Unless you do have a greenhouse or a Gro-light setup, I'd buy my own tomato plants too. My Dad has one of those Gro-light cart thingmajigs and it's cool. He is the only person I know crazy(and patient!)enough to grow impatiens and geraniums (or pelargoniums, if you're semantically picky!) from seed.

Steve: Just excellent! Thanks for your detailed reports.

And would cost approximately twety times more, if their time and bother were priced out!

"Artisanal" sounds soooo much better than "home made, doesn't it? Unemployment provides me with (much)less money....(no trips to Tiffany this year!) but abundant time to satisfy my always-lurking artisanal instincts. So far: 1) "Retro" aprons for the ladyfolk. Think kinda a cross between Ethel Mertz and Carmen Miranda. I hope not to touch rickrack or seam binding for a good while. But, they are fetching, if I do say so myself! 2)Soap. Used all my adorable little tin tart/baba moulds as per Martha'a advice in December's "Living." The most restful and fun afternoon in awhile. 3)Small recipe book compiling all the recipes I use at Christmas that are written on twenty-year old smudged bits of paper. (Simple concertina binding, if there are any other bookbinders out there.) To come: Husband's famous ass't nut brittles. Said to be a favourite of brothers-in-law. Homemade pannetone. Anyone else going artisanal this year? If so, what are your specialties?

I am with you Jinmyo. So Suvir! Send me your two for Christmas (With a penny in the package. One of my granny's many superstitions was that a knife given as a gift would cut the friendship of the giver and the givee unless a small amount of money was included!) We are Global converts...home cooks, though. Not much volume going on. His Handsomeness keeps it sharp with the Japanese whetstone he bought to try to keep the Wusthoffs really sharp!

Dinnerguests and I wondering, horrified, why my husband was locked in the powder room moaning, screaming, swearing. For a long time! Guests wondering why I (after checking out cause, like a good wife)was laughing so hard when someome was obviously in terrible pain. They laughed louder than I did when all was revealed (metaphorically speaking!) As more liqour was consumed, commisserations became bawdier.

Canada is also an electric kettle stronghold. People drink tea there. The USA is basically a coffee country. Places that are (or were) pink on the map are probably electric kettle strongholds because the colonial masters were(and are) teadrinkers.

I make the cookies my mother has always made...shortbread petticoat tail style, lemon bars, rum balls etc. When I married I scored a couple of great recipes from my husband's grandmother. They have entered the canon. I especially love these: Nonna’s Nutty Crisps Oven: 350 1 c. butter 6 T. sugar 2 t. hot water 2 t. vanilla 2 c. flour ½ c. chopped walnuts or pecans Powdered sugar for sprinkling Cream butter and sugar Mix in remaining ingredients. Drop from a teaspoon onto greased cookie sheets Bake for approx. 15 minutes until very lightly golden Let cool 5 minutes, then dredge, very heavily, with powdered sugar. Nonna made these until her 100th year. The last two Christmases she wimped out. BTW, I got this recipe only by observation. She had nothing written down. Drifts if powdered sugar, please!

Oh Christopher, I so agree. A properly set table at the end of the day is restorative...so easy to do and such a comforting, elegant ritual. I loved your post. Roman Meal bread. I'd forgotten that. And Leibfraumilch Madonna. Might have been my very first glass of wine.

The last time I made onion soup gratinee I think I was wearing a Marimekko tshirt. But upon perusal of Jacques and Julia Cook at Home, Jacques gave me permission to use chicken stock instead of beef stock. As I have roughly eight gallons of stock in the freezer (His Handsomeness makes stock as a hobby, I think) I forged ahead. It was really good. The croutons, the gruyere, the naplam- like consistency of the topping before it cooled. Actually (and I am by nature a fairly modest woman!) it was one of the best onion soups I've ever eaten. Will do it again before twenty years elapses. Pear and gorgonzola salad . Beautiful boscs were selling for 39 cents a pound. Bottle of Argentinian red plonk. Good enough.

And I was going to say "Poor planning" but then I thought no, I can't say that to these nice folks. Suzanne: You have my permission to say whatever you like to/about us! But it's not a matter of poor planning. Everything has been planned and prepared to a fare-thee-well. But if H.H. actually has,say, an hour on his hands before guests arrives he considers that reason enough to..er..expland the menu. Ah well.

And just how are you using the word artisanal? In the words of the respected Jaybee: "not mass produced and therefore worth a premium price."

Cockiness. My Exec Chef always swears he's going to stick with the menu plan until about 45 mintes before the guests arrive. Then he decides that we need: 1)A loaf of his famous artisanal bread. 2)Puff pastry cheese straws...from scratch 3)Another vegetable side 4)That interesting Latvian (or whatever) fish ap he saw in an obscure cookbook which he now has to find before he starts cooking. 5)The (already) decorated dessert is "just too plain looking"...out come the pastry tips 6)Trotter's lime-caramel ice cream would be woderful with that tart. He's right, it would, but could we please change our clothes and give the house a lick and a promise instead? Every time I find a gray hair I blame it on the hour before our last dinner party.

Here's a recipe from Lady Shaftesbury's Receipt Book for Clear Mulligatawny Soup. She began writing down recipes in 1855, but the recipe (according) to Jane Grigson) is probably frm Dr. Kitchiner's "The Cook's Oracle" of 1817. 6 large chopped onions 4 oz. butter 2 large T. curry powder 3 pts. good stock 1 1/2 lb. veal or rabbit or boiling fowl Cook the onions in butter until soft and light brown. Add the curry powder, cook for two minutes, stirring constantly. Add stock. Chop the meat and add it and its bones. Bring to boil and simmer for at least an hour. Skim occasionally. Strain through cheesecloth, adjust for salt and serve with rice. The good Doctor's recipe for curry powder: (Jane says to whizz to a powder) 3 rounded t. coriander 3 level t. ground tumeric 1 rounded t. black peppercorns 1 rounded t. black mustard seeds 1 level t. ground ginger 1/2 t. cardamon seeds 1/4 t. cayenne 1/4 t. cumin Gentlemen, what think you of the Victorian version, and especially the 1817 curry powder? I've never had Milligatawny so am not qualified to offer an opinion. The book, which I love, is "Food With the Famous, offering the recipes of , among others, John Evelyn (check out his salad calendar!) Sydney Smith, Thomas Jefferson, Zola and Dumas. I am not participating in the Secret Santa, thanks!

You know you are a gardener when the smell of rotting leaves is beautiful. My neighbour almost apologetically offered me the rotten leaves that had accumulated on his pool cover over last winter. "Margaret, they smell so awful? Are you sure?" Yes! And we discussed last night during dinner prep how weird it is not to be able to dump the kitchen scraps on the compost heap. Those fennel fronds would break down in a couple of days during the summer. So we used them as a cat toy for a couple of minutes. Sparrowgrass: Do you compost your chicken manure?

Sparrowgrass: Can you hear me gnashing my teeth with envy? Two acres? Blackberries? Chickens? Lucky, lucky lady!

What was your family food culture when you were growing up? My maternal g'parents were working class folk from Lancashire, who moved to Canada after WWI. My paternal g'parents were (if you can get your head around this!) bohemian, artistic, Southern Ontario farmers of Scottish descent. The McArthur ancestors had lived in NYC in the nineties, were buddies with Twain and O.Henry and had lived the Big Life for a few years. Until Truth magazine folded. Then back to the farm and unending supplies of good fruit, veg, eggs and dairy. But my parents moved to Quebec right after their marriage. Boy, food was different there! The bread! Pate! Wine more than twice a year. Lots of raw oysters. Was meal time important? Unquestionalby the most important hour of the day. We talked about politics, music, literature...you know. The good stuff. Was cooking important? Always. My mother was a "good plain cook" until she saw a chef on the CBC make Boeuf Bourguignon. She was in her early thirties. She wrote down the recipe (I was sitting with her) and made it for dinner. She always changed for dinner (still does, (as does my father,) and, in retrospect, must have looked pretty darn fetching in her little black dress and four inch heels. On a Tuesday night family dinner, mind you! But of course, to my mind she had to be at least thirty one and old and haggish beyond thinking! That Boeuf B. was so GOOD. My father who then,as now, thinks my mother is a goddess, got up after his third glass of Gamay and made a little speech and bowed. It marked the beginning of our family's ongoing trek to gourmetude. I wish I knew that chef's name...Hungarian, I think. What were the penalties for putting elbows on the table? God! Dire! I don't want to even consider the Wrath that would have been brought down upon us. Table manners were up there with the Ten Commandments...maybe even higher.! Who cooked in the family? Mummy, 85% of the time. Daddy made great grilled cheese and onion sandwiches, bacon and eggs, fudge and eggnog. My mother handed pastry to me when I was twelve. My brother Ian made fudge every other night during those endless -30 winter nights. Were restaurant meals common, or for special occassions? Very uncommon. Road food on trips to Toroto to visit the grandparents. Trips to Montreal were different. The Beaver Club at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel was my first memory of being awed by a great room. Pauze's on Ste. Catherine for Dover Sole. Ben's and Schwartz's for smoke beef sandwiches. And I was very fond of the rice pudding at Murray's. Did children have a "kiddy table" when guests were over? Never. When did you get that first sip of wine? Maybe fourteen? My father did it deliberately as a learning, growing experience. I also had what we still laughingly refer to as "Drinking Lessons." After 16, I was included in the Cocktail Hour and taught to drink. "No daughter of ours is ever going to order a rum and coke or a zombie!" So by my late teens I could drink a scotch and soda, a martini, a Dubonnet on the rocks or one of my father's famous Old Fashioneds. I still drink like a 60's Waspy businessman. Was there a pre-meal prayer? Growing up, only at Sunday dinner, which was served after church. "For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful, Amen" It was intoned so quickly that my brother, aged six(?) asked "Who's Uttree Abuttree? Is he someone we know?" Now my parents say grace much more carefully. And altho' we are unbelivers we have said the blessing every night since we were married. Maybe it's superstition, but I truly belive that We, the Fortunate, should at least once a day, say out loud that we know that we are lucky. Was there a rotating menu (e.g., meatloaf every Thursday)? Cheese and onion pasty for lunch on Saturday. Standing rib, Yorkshire Pud , pie by me, etc. on Sunday. How much of your family culture is being replicated in your present-day family life? Happily, a lot. Our daughter and her boyfriend care about cooking, care about friendship and love to entertain. So:"May the Lord make us truly thankful."

I have to agree with Nickn about enclosing compost heaps. Pain in the neck...but I'm lazy. Mine is "enclosed" with some 18" ornamental wrought iron edging, with a little (slightly damaged, and cheap)wrought iron trellis on the side facing pedestrians. I plant hyacinth vine to grow over the trellis, shielding last night's offerings from the curious ("They had eggplant three times this week!") and adding that senseless useless beauty thing. The heap is (barely) enclosed on three sides, making access easy and the pile slightly defined.

Another thing we do to make eating on the road more of a treat than it often is: I bake a batch of something we try not to have lurking in a two-person household, like brownies or a couple of kinds of cookies. The proverbial homemade goodies go down well while stuck in traffic around, say, Kalamazoo.

His Handsomeness does a strange revert-to third grade thing when we set out on a road trip. He buys a dozen juice boxes (things that haven't appeared since our daughter was eight) and freezes them. They act as very efficient cooler boxes in the picnic basket. And by the time we get to, say, Lansing, they are ready to drink. And a big thermos of your best coffee. Actually, buy *Better* coffee for your travelling thermos. Make your very best chicken salad and pack a few good buttered rolls. Haul out the picnic Opinel knife (see Fat Guy above), make a sandwich, and understand that the best road food tastes fresh. A good pear and a couple of homemade shortbread cookies. A group of grapes. But there has to be at least one junk food meal on the road. We like Burger King, and, in Canada, Tim Horton's.

Martha is completely right about the two pieces of plastic wrap. Works beautifully. But I have rolled out enough sheets of pastry in my life that I now just pick the sheet up on the pin. Torokris: Babe! YOU CAN make cream puffs! Would I was there to work with you. They are easy and foolproof, so I am puzzled by maybe !) your recipe 2) your flour or whatever. You can do this . It is almost a no-brainer. Relax, don't sweat. IT IS EASY. And try using the dough to make a savoury cheesy gougere. Best cocktail/lunch/starter dish in the world. Do it today! And if it doesn't work, PM me. Can't bear that a cool person like you is disappointed in her choux results.

Steve: How true! We spent numberless years being intimidated by puff pastry, only to try again recently. It is NOT HARD, and the results pay back enormously for the effort spent. And oh! the glorious feeling of having puff pastry in the freezer. (Chicken pot pie tonight!)

No, it's Sunset and Western, and it is huge. Pretty sure it's not affililiated with a chain (too funky and real), but of course I could be wrong. Hang on...I'll go find my Lonely Planet L.A. I'm Back. It's called the Farm Fresh Ranch Market, 5520 Sunset. To quote:"Located in Little Armenia, this amazing market is famous for its United Nations of edibles and shoppers. Pick up fresh Bulgarian feta, Greek Kalamata olives, banana leaves for tamales, chorizo from El Salvador, Russian style pickled herring, or freshly baked Mexican bollilos. (Note:I can attest to the excellence of these buns) Prices are low, especially for produce, meat, fish and baked items." And I know we haven't even started to taste L.A. The daughter just got a job at the L.A. Philharmonic, so we'll be back!