maggiethecat

You are so welcome, Don. Not only for your innate talents and attributes, but for being the consort of the ineffable Marlene. Please chime in at every possible opportunity.

This is as Real Life as it gets, Damn, damn, damn. (It's happend to me.) You are a very forgiving woman.

I think the sideboard might need a lick of paint. White paint, red knobs. It would give it a sweet French Country look and still match the cabinets. Of course, the Martha in me is considering red and white check door fronts (use blue painter's tape to frisket) or: we know you can draw. Freehand cherries? Are you wedded to the idea of a new top? If you install one, you'll lose that charming curvey bit. Practically speaking, a new top (my choice is marble if you were on a fat budget, because it would look cool and French, but hey, a well made laminate slab would be fine) might give you more workspace. But what about simply situating a big, good-looking board and a trivet?

I think you and Theresa did a fab job with the panties! A little CC? Pfui. The pictures are just glorious. I love stuffing in all its forms, and I was hoping you'd Just Do It. And you did. Props to Dave for the glaze. And I most struck with the loveliness of that bowl of carrots. I don't think we give the ever-available, reliable, inexpensive carrot the respect it deserves. Avid for the details of The Big Party....

This ia a really great idea! I'll throw a can of V8 or Clamato into the gift basket with it.

Turning now in our hymnals to pg. 334: Oooh, Tannin balm, Oh Tannin balm .......(hee-hee!) ← Oh, Miss Jess-- you are sooo funny! I'll be singing this particular carol every opportunity I get, and I can make some opportunities. But red wine is always my quaff of good sense. Raging hormones and three martinis can lead to very unfortunate outcomes, like, say, throwing all his socks into a snowbank. You sort 'em, sucker!

From my in-laws: Tuscan simplicity: raw finocchio and black olives. No more, no less.

74, 476. or: 14.11 miles.

But, I'm assuming that if one put these into a home-made cookbook, that book would count...yes? ← Susan, I hate to get all legalistc here , but unless your cookbook has been bound , published, or avaiable at, say, Amazon, the answer is a regretful ... no. I'd boost my own count here if I could include all my binders and homemade books, but that would be inserting the thin edge of the wedge that leads to the slippery slope!

74,469. Welcome serge and Octaveman. Nah, pdf format doesn't count for the purposes of this thread, nor do our old 3 X5 cards and printouts from the net. But they sure count in the kitchen, and I'd love to spend about a year going through everyones stash of recipes!

Katie! Your very name brought to mind something we made last Christmas that got good reviews: Limoncello! Time to start a batch.

I counted 42 tubes in my lipstick drawer, so I'm plainly not frugal about everything. I am, like most of you, frugal about food. The can in the freezer stuffed with mushroom stems, chocken and veal bits, and pretty vegetable scraps is the number one destination for kitchen heldovers. The compost heap gets the rest. But is it frugality we're talking about here, or our daily effort to cook better food? I would like to present the example of my mother, a child of the Depression but a big spender on such things as fox boas, Georgian silver, and Armani blouses. She is also one of the best cooks I know, with the means to buy anything she likes at the butcher, the seafood place or the cheesemonger. She never wastes good food. My brother (a caterer) was there for dinner and said: "Mum, you got any breadcrumbs?" She opened the freezer and offered him the soft fluffy kind, the fine toasted kind, brioche crumbs, croissant crumbs. Croutons. He shook his head and said: "Only in this house!" Opening the freezer in the basement is like Alladins'Cave: Chicken stock, beef stock, lobster stock, poundcake crumbs, ground gingersnaps, the top layer of an unofficial neices's twenty-year old wedding cake--a fruitcake, of course. Hambones. Eggwhites. All immaculately dated and labeled. My mother isn't being frugal--she's tring to have the best ingredients easy to hand. Edited to add: I save bacon grease in a coffee can until it's full, then I toss it. What am I thinking? Duh. And I love the idea of saving butte rwrappers.

Balsamella, or as my Lancashire granny called it: White Sauce. The butter and flour amounts were always equal, and as follows: Thin sauce: 1 T butter, 1T. flour, 1 C. Milk. Medium: 2 T butter, 2 T flour, 1 C milk. Thick sauce: 3:3:1. It's pretty foolproof and can be expanded as necessary. And as Sam said, don't forget the nutmeg. I never use ricotta or cottage cheese in lasagna. Mine is a rather puritan recipe from , I think, Marcella's first book. Layer the noodles with Ragu B, balsamella, and grated parm. C'est tout. And making this recipe marked the first time I really liked lasagne. (Homemade noodles are primo here.)

My, we have been busy and lucky! Timh, I agree that the Grigson "Charcuterie" is a classic--my old paperback is falling apart. Smithy: Break out "Simple to Spectacular!" I made the Citrus Short Ribs on Sunday, and they were almost as good as the "Blovie, dear---TL's for two bucks????? Wow. Welcome to eGullet , mike_r and designchick and virtualchuta --let's hear much more from you. Alex, mon ami: St Jacques has never failed, and if the book has your stamp of approval, it's on my wishlist too. Oops! I was waxing so jealous and enthusiastic and evangelical that I almost forgot the total: 73, 678. (RETREVR---how many notebooks? )

Go get the KA, please. I checked the thread Varmint posted and found that the attachments are the same as those on the other KAs, and it comes with a full selection of bowl sizes. Heck, if you don't want it, get it anyway; I'll swap you my butter yellow one. (I think that when things are exclusive to W-S, it frquently, tho not always, refers to a colorway.)

Sure, Sistergirl. It's one of McCalls Uniform patterns, number 4539. You can whip up checks, toque or dishwaher's jacket from this pattern.

I adore Canadian Living and Mummy always has a copy on the bedside table when I'm back in the True North Stong and Free for a visit. I would love that recipe. And, apart from Jaymes Caramel Corn, a go-to for every gifting occasion , I don't think there's anything simpler or more welcome than spicy/sweet/salty nuts. Easy on the cook, inhaled by the recipent. There are lots of good recipes out there, but this is a category where Martha Rules. Can't remember which book --maybe the classic "Hors d'Oeuvres, " but a can of spicey caramelized pecans can't miss.

I love that floor. If it didn't mean blasting out ceramic tile, I'd be laying the identical floor now. Golly, what a difference it makes -- it works wonderfully with the butter-yellow walls, and makes a heck of a Statement. What with the white-painted cabinets and the floor, you're styling, my friend. It feels like a whole new chic place. Condolences on the stove. And: Cute doggie!

Anne: I am in awe.

Good grief: I'd forgotten that I'd started this thread, even as I mulled over ideas yesterday for this year's gifting! Malawry: Re Savoury-- How's about some cheese shortbreads, cheddar coins; you know the short little cheese cookies I'm talking about. And the lavender: Cut out square of organza (er, the cheap stuff--no silk necessary) with pinking shears, tip some of those buds into the center, and tie up the baby pouch with ribbon. Silver organza and lavender ribbon would be so pretty. (If you can find some lacy cotton hankies to use as the wrap, it could be a double gift.) This year, for my very special and nearest and dearest: Maggie's Own Chefwarish cook's pants, with matching do-rag headwrap. I made the cap yesterday, and it is appropriately menacing and raffish. In going through the November "Vogue" I found some nifty purses fashioned from crocheted Granny Squares. $1700 samolians, I kid you not! I might just pull out my crochet hook. The big hit at my mother's tour of the local church's Christmas Tea and Crafts Sales this year is that Layered Desert in a Jar thingie. The ingredients for brownies or cookies are layered in a big mason jar, like sand sculpture. There's a tag attached specifying the ingredients you'll need to add, along with baking instructions. She bought one and used it immeditely: it passed her very high standards. The church ladies had used the good stuff when they prepared their jars.

ronnie, my friend: You are an inspiration to us all. You did it! The bubble-pack breaking- agaist -the- teeth texture of caivar, the crispy/soft texture of the tot. That suave dab of sour cream. Jake: I love the interior of your fridge. spaghetttti:I am salivating; what a terrific idea! Potatoes are very Indian after all. If Ore-ida isn't watching this thread, they should be.

marie-louise: I like your take on the reissue of the TL series: leave perfection alone, but add an update. Darcie-B, Wine_Dad and any other newcomers to eGullet: We're so glad to have you here. 73,228.

72, 993. And Tim, we cherish our TL "Foods of the World" on this thread. Come to think of it, why don't they reissue it --no updates, no changes.

July 7th, 1993, (day before my birthday) I got a long distance call from my father in Ottawa. "Your mother is in a coma. Get on a plane." I remember getting the ticket, and I remember that my daughter packed for me. Only sixteen, but she was taking care of me. On the flight from Chicago, I was numb; I was picking the hymns. I was thinking of my father, who adored her. was thinking about my sisters, fraternal twins: one Downs Syndrome, one schizophrenic. I was crying in the windowseat, mourning the wit, the brains, the chic, the fun that is my mother. Twenty-two days trying to shore up my father, who is ordinarily the strongest person I know. Twenty-two days driving to the hospital and holding my mother's hand, and screaming at her to get better. Twenty-two days of cooking for my little family, shell-shocked and trying the imagine the unimagineable: life without Marilyn McArthur. I cooked. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. To me it tasted like ashes, but I had to do it because no one else could. I think it probably tasted like ashes to them too, but the routine helped. Weeping when I peeled onions was an easy cover for my tears. Knowing that I was keeping to my mother's high standards at mealtime gave me a hard push through my fatigue and grief: I had to feed people. And I did. The good news: Mummy pulled out and got better. If you're ever in Ottawa you'll eat the best osso bucco, the most magnificent standing rib, the greatest truite almondine of your life. She shines on brightly, and at least half of our Sunday phone call is cooking discusion. Sometimes just going through the motions and doing the best you can is therapuetic.

72903. NVNVGirl: Ouch. That picture hurt!