maggiethecat

jackel? Those gothic arches and all.

OK, that sounds wonderful. I want some Right Now. I've made pink grapefruit curd and it went over well.

Including the 15 or so your Calculatrix has acquired since I last checked in, that's 149,771.

Here's a homemade solar oven. It requires a cardboard box, foil, cord and glue. What a science project for you and the L'il Varmints!

Here's an updated version of Andie's contraption, and I've been fascinated by these solar ovens since I heard a Global Philanthropy piece on NPR's Worldview -- go Chicago Public Radio! These are distributed to women in sizzling parts of the Third World. With one of these the women and their children don't have to spend hours a day foraging for fuel, and they don't pollute the air as wood and dung fires do. About two hundred fifty bucks, and distributed a few miles down the road from me. If you can't overnight one of these, I really want you to take one for the team with your salmon. Jaymes, that puttanesca idea is brilliant -- it's "only" 95 here, but the humidity is 105%.

As I remember it, back in the day, lo mein was pretty much your only noodle choice. The two popular starches were lo mein and fried rice. Then I think I went away to college and when I came back the chow fun and mee fun (which the place I cite above calls "chow mei fun") were all over the place. Fried rice had fallen out of favor (though it was still offered everywhere) and noodle varieties had proliferated. ← Thanks. I think I've got it. But why the 20 cent premium on the Fun noodles? The rice flour? (Though 20 cents extra for Fun is a bargain.) Edited to add: I've never seen it on a menu in the midwest. Not that I've been to Chinatown in a few years.

Help me out, here. (Canadian-bred shiksa.) I've never heard of Chow Fun. Noodles and toppings?

There's everything to love! I've never seen a Pu Pu platter before (it never made it to the Green Pansy in Trois-Rivieres)so it' s not a cultural icon for me. But it's a gorgeous thing. It contains all the good stuff we kids always wanted at a Chinese restaurant, and magma too!

Brilliant, Miss P! (And though this apron requires very little in the way of sewing skills, it would make the project even easier.) I've got lots of new tea towels to play with -- some with borders -- and the MarkII will definitely have longer waist ties, grosgrain ribbon rather than twill tape, and no pockets. Hmmm, no. I just laid MarkII out on the sofa , and Priscilla's suggestion will make those pockets easier.

Here's the link to the tea towel apron project. Tea Towel Apron I'm with you Kerry, about wrap-around apron ties. One of my other apron projects (a copy of a cook's apron I got at an army surplus place) has super-long ties, no pocket, and I love it. No need for a towel loop, either. A vintage pattern I own (rickrack and pockets, yes) has a button sewn on at the waist and instructions for putting a buttonhole on a side towel. I don't own a cell phone, but I can see that a pocket would be helpful if I did. Eden, another of my retro apron patterns brags that each one can be made from a yard of fabric. Skimpy skimpy skimpy. Dave: Just do it. Really. Or buy Martha's Homekeeping Handbook, which will provide many Good Ways to remove stains and grease.

I'm going through a personal crap patch and today I thought I'd go to two of my happy places -- sewing aprons and Martha Stewart, my big sister. Back in 1995, in the Good Things section of her mag, Martha had a great idea about making an apron from two tea towels, or dish towels as they're better known in the USA. I headed out to TJ Maxx and blew twenty bucks on tea towels, or what you gringos and Martha call dish towels. Great project. Half an hour, maybe. I see room for improvement in small ways. But this design would be easier and more elegant without forming the pockets. So tell, me, apron afficionadaos -- do you ever use an apron pocket -- unless, of course, you're a waiter. Waiters need pockets

Yes, I measure the liquid/solid ratios when cooking grains, and that's it. I've been cooking long enough that I can eyeball everything else. (Geez, if you've been cooking for thirty years, you should know what a teaspoon of salt feels like in the palm of your hand!) I adore the measurements in baking, whether English, metric, volume or weight. It's comforting. Get the ratio and measurements right and all's well with the world. But making say, a gumbo? If the onion, chopped, is a quarter cup more than the recipe, I'm not going to tuck it into a baggie. I'll use it. Zero sweat.

All the best, Katie. You're a kind naughty candle in a boring world. I'm looking forward to your fabulous posts from a fabulous woman.

We made the straightforward Lemon Sorbet last night, and it was everything it should be: A powerful lemon punch and a dreamy texture. Chicago Italian Ice for grownups. Fab bonus: I love gin and Bitter Lemon and can't find the Schweppes yellow cans anywhere. (What happened? It's so good with rye and bourbon too.) Tonight I swirled a tablespoon of the sorbet into my g and t. Very, very close to the commercial product. Perhaps even better.

As a passionate (but mediocre folder -- no Robert Lang here) I can think of many designs for whole bags with intricate closures, but nothing that's origami for fastening the tops of bags. Hmmmm.... there's that Didier Boursin crane letterfold that could be adapted. This could be fun. If I find the time and inspiration, I'll take pix and post them here. I can never find the few bag clips in the junk drawer when I need them, so I'm mostly a roll-it-up-and-pray person. No one's died yet, though there are crumbs everywhere.

My barding needle. I've had it forever -- decades -- and used it once. Maybe. Luckily it doesn't take up much space.

After petting the cats, the second thing I did after returning from 3 months away from home was smell my vanilla. It's dark, done and fragrant. Time to start another batch

Although I'll try shellfishfiends method, I think the skinny noodle/chunky sauce problem is insoluble -- case in point our Spaghetti Putanesca last night. The capers and tomatoes sink to the bottom of the bowl, so you just have to bail. Put the pasta on a plate, dig up the good bits, and top the noodles therewith.

My mother died a couple of weeks ago, and I moved to Ottawa for three months to act as cook/factotem. I didn't get much help, and what with cooking and shopping for three meals a day for five (and trying never to duplicate the dinner menu) instead of one meal a day for two I was stretched thin. I'd like to thank Jakki Gordon, a petite lady who rattles around alone in an Edward Gorey style mansion across the street. She'd appear on the front porch with home-baked muffins, perfect for breakfast or teatime. The mere knowledge that my family had real baking (that I hadn't had to bake myself) calmed me. Two days after the funeral she showed up clad in the tiniest Lacoste shirtdress with all those old WASPy diamonds on her fingers. She handed me a four litre basket of strawberries she'd picked herself earlier in the day. Deep red to the core, sweet, fragrant. They were like a blessing.

Know your oven door. My oven door is a lazy laid back beast -- I press it down, and it stays there. My mother's oven door is snappy and springy. I pushed it down to remove a pan of something or other and it slammed shut on me. I swear I heard a sizzle. I'm now wearing a scar the size of an extra large egg yolk on my right forearm. It's not a regular scar, that might fade in time. I cooked myself. They area feels firm and tight, like a seared strip steak. (I showed the original bubbling pustulating mess to the pharmacists at the nearby drugstore. They -- no kidding -- screamed.)

Yes, it could be more like an eGullet Society convention than a Heartland Gathering -- not that there's anything the matter with that! We come from the City of the Big Shoulders, and more importantly, Hog Butcher to the World. We have a year to plan this thing, and ronnie I am at your command. We'll find a way. It's gonna be beyond.

I find that when I add them to the compost heap they disappear as if by magic by next morning. The coons take care of them. Problem solved!

That sounds about right, actually. (Come payday I'll give it a shot myself!)

No sweet vermouth -- it's not a Manhattan household. Thanks for stepping up to the plate -- er, bar. I wish I knew if Daddy used M&R, Cinzano or Boissieres -- depending on what's on sale it could be any of them. And did you taste the concoction? I'm betting it tasted like Pernod.

I talked to my father last night about a magical transformation he experienced in his martini glass before dinner. It seems the original martini was knocked off the counter and he found himself out of gin after the LCBO had closed. Vodka is a non-starter (and non-existent) in his house so he picked the only bottle left in the cabinet: Pernod. He added some dry vermouth and here's where is gets spooky. The drink turned orange. I'm plain outta Pernod, but I know the inhabitants of this forum have a bottle or two lying about.. Would anyone like to duplicate this drink for me, and check in with your results? If you get the same reaction in your glass, could you hazard a guess as to why this happens? My father is a chemical engineer, but he specialized in wood pulp, not cocktails.