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Lindacakes

eG Foodblog: Lindacakes - EIK PREWAR

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On the kitchens and the cleanliness:  Cue the Odd Couple song.  I am Felix, she is Oscar.  There are fights.  You have seen the Oscar kitchen.  After Felix went through it with Soft Scrub.  Picking little bits of strawberry off the walls, sweeping up the seeds, lining up the grapefruits.  Doo doo doo dooooo . . .

So glad that I have the Odd Couple theme in my head now, all day long. :biggrin:

And I love that you *have* to get to the Frida Kahlo show. As an art historian, that warms my heart! So is it business or pleasure that draws you there?

Blog on, Brooklyn!


Margo Thompson

Allentown, PA

You're my little potato, you're my little potato,

You're my little potato, they dug you up!

You come from underground!

-Malcolm Dalglish

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This is my favourite coffee, too. Can I ask what you do with your leftover cans? I have accumulated quite a few of them, and I don't want to throw them away, they seem too pretty. That I've never be able to figure out what category of garbage they belong to.

I use mine for storing kitchen utensils. I have a lot of spatulas, wooden spoons, etc., and they fit perfectly.

Lindacakes, I'm hoping to see some Jamaican black cake! And I wonder what that farter had for lunch. Corned beef and cabbage, perhaps? Regardless, I'm sure glad I wasn't there to witness it!

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Ah! Frida Kahlo! My favorite artist. I tried to visit the Blue House when I was in Mexico City but it was closed for repairs.

I'm enjoying this blog and looking forward to more.

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I did have that corned beef sandwich, sitting at the bar, and you will see NYPD in kilts.  Right now, it is difficult for me to think about because a large, lumbering, drunken, styrofoam leprechaun-earred oaf FARTED the most, well, present fart I have ever had the misfortune to witness.

It traveled down the bar about five people wide, it caused the bartender to light not one but two matches and wave them about furiously and it made at least four of us blatantly cover our faces with our clothing.  It was that tremendous.  This man spent a half hour trying to text an incomprehensible message to a friend, in between nearly passing out on my back.  The only thing I could think to do was order more Jameson's, drink it,  and flee.

Oh dear. :laugh: I confess that, after a few too many run-ins of this sort, I have developed an allergy to going out on any holiday devoted to mass public drinking. I refer to them as the "Amateur Hour Drunk" holidays. Not that seasoned practiced drunks can't also perpetrate rude and even dangerous behavior, but at least they have some experience in how to handle the stuff.

When I was doing support for my buddy's band, I of course had to work holiday gigs they got booked for. I remember one St. Patrick's gig in particular--this Irish bar located in a suburban shopping center had a big celebration, with a number of bands performing on a stage set up in a corner of the center's parking lot. Towards the end of the evening, I swear that whole area was awash in about an inch of bad (green) beer, and at least one female patron had become posessed of the "girls gone wild" shirt-removal social virus. In a suburban shopping center parking lot. Oh well. I can only hope the hangovers provided sufficient negative reinforcement against future exhibitions ... but somehow I doubt it.

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St. Patrick’s Day.

Well, lunch was a disappointment. In fact, lunch tasted like a--. I hate it when I have a bad lunch. I met my friends Vanessa and Elisabeth in the Village, at the Elephant and Castle. The E & C has been on Greenwich Avenue since before God was born, but I’ve never eaten there. It’s just one of those places, one of those places very close to where both Vanessa and Elisabeth work.

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Normally, in a place like this, I would order a burger, but since that beef debacle, I don’t eat beef anymore. Certainly not ground beef. I ended up ordering a salad, because bacon and avocado sounded good. I asked the waitress to throw some chicken on my salad.

I got a bowl of iceberg lettuce soaking in a cream sauce. Somehow, I was confused, because there was no avocado. I ate the bacon, the two gumballs of chicken, a couple of slimy cherry tomatoes and an unfortunate slice of pear.

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Once this petty crime was over, while we were waiting for Elisabeth to show, we ordered dessert. What I wanted was carrot cake, but you know how bad carrot cake can be when it’s bad and I had a feeling the E & C had no pastry pride.

If I can pause here to whine, this is the lament of the baker. You absolutely cannot eat a baked good, any sort of dessert, really, outside of the confines of your own home. Why? Because it all sucks. It is not made with organic flour, butter, eggs and milk like it is in my house. It’s not made in a small, careful batch. I admit, sometimes the desserts are divine, but mostly, I could do much, much better.

So, what do I do? I order the Viennese crepe! I kid you not. I’m thinking chocolate, hazelnuts, okay, that will take the taste of the salad bowl out of my mouth.

WRONG.

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Just look at it. It doesn’t even look like a crepe, it looks like a burrito. Well, it was a burrito. Stuffed with Hersey’s syrup interrupted by two or three chewable pieces that were likely the hazelnuts. Enough said.

After that, I had time to kill before my next meal. I checked the movie schedules, and nothing within walking distance was of interest, so I wandered around. I wandered up town and of course, I wandered into Williams Sonoma. It’s sad, and yet a relief that I’ve gotten to that point where there’s nothing I want from a kitchen store. And Williams Sonoma has gone down hill, hasn’t it? They’ve gotten way too far into holidays and packaged foods.

I continued my wanderings and wandered right into New York Cake and Baking. I like NYCB, I find it a peaceful place to poke around, and I thought you might like to see it. It’s an enormous baking supply store. They have a huge stock of baking pans, cookie cutters, flavors, sanding sugars, paste flowers, you name it.

This is the store window, inviting you to come inside and revel in the wonders of sugar.

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This is Oz for you bakers.

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Close up on some of the merch – bulk chocolate and paste flowers:

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It was tough for me to be idle. I went to Barnes and Noble for a while and looked through Martha Stewart Living. Nothing there, really. But I’m not making this up. I am really thinking about food all the time.

So, I’m off to Peter McManus, an Irish bar in Chelsea where they have a pretty good corned beef sandwich. I eat a corned beef sandwich once a year, and for a very long time this single corned beef sandwich was consumed in a Jewish deli somewhere downtown, usually the Second Avenue Deli. (Which recently got chased out of the space they’d had since before God was born and are now up on 33rd Street.) Then one year, just for the heck of it, I decided to try the Irish version for a change, oafish clientele in the bar or not.

This particular St. Paddy’s day was on a Saturday, and the folks in the bar had been in there drinking all day, or, at least since the parade was over. And it was kind of fun. I inquired, and was invited to look under a police officer’s kilt. I decked a guy. And then I decided that it was sort of more fun than the Second Avenue Deli.

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This is the supply of liquor ready and waiting.

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This one of New York’s finest. Many Irish police officers are members of the Emerald Society, and have their own bagpipe band that plays in parades and at the funerals of fallen officers. On St. Paddy’s day they march down Fifth Avenue and into various places like McManus. Here, they add a lot of color to the old watering hole and now and again get behind the bar to play some welcome music to the pleasure of the patrons.

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I’m including this shot because it shows you the beautiful tartan. The material is very fine, and the colors are exquisite.

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We flagged down a nice waitress with a shamrock stuck on her face and asked for our corned beef. It was a mighty fine corned beef sandwich, well worth waiting a year for, just enough fat on rye bread. Washed down with warming Irish whiskey. There is a god.

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Come here, baby, kiss me on the lips!

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When we left, it was still light out, and this guy was looking for a cab.

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I like to bake nice things. And then I eat them. Then I can bake some more.

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A Little Road Trip to Philadelphia.

Today we have tickets to the Frida Kahlo show at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. This exhibit is in honor of the hundredth anniversary of her birth. Lynn is a printmaker and I am a hand bookbinder, and we travel for art. We have been to the Blue House outside Mexico City and have stood in Frida Kahlo’s kitchen. I thought about this, of course, in this crossroads of food and art and Frida.

We left the house in a bit of a rush after having drunk another of those Green Vibrance shakes, same ingredients as yesterday. I asked Lynn to grab some fruit as the fruit is in her kitchen. She forgot. This is one of the problems of having two kitchens – the food is sort of scattered in the house and it takes some coordinating. I remembered to grab a candy bar. A Daim bar. This is a Swedish Heath bar, and supposedly better, at least according to the Top 100 issue of Saveur.

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I am a hunter/gatherer when it comes to food. I enjoy seeking and following leads, and trying something new. Since I love Heath bars, I tracked the Daim bar to a candy store on the Lower East Side of New York called The Sweet Life. Which was an interesting candy store to visit. I bought my mother some beautiful chocolate eggs wrapped in foil printed with a traditional Ukranian easter egg pattern. And I bought a half dozen Daim bars, thinking I would make coffee ice cream and throw some pieces in.

Well, I was disappointed.

I like Heath much better. It’s thicker, it’s toffee-er. I managed to choke them down all the same, as this particular Daim bar was the last one of the batch.

So we ate it in the car.

And then, pretty soon, long about the time we passed the Molly Pitcher rest stop (all of the rest stops on the run through New Jersey between New York and Philly have names) I had to pee and I had to have something to eat. And it has finally happened. I have eaten something I am afraid to shoow you. People, I give you:

The Cinnabon.

So I stopped.

And we each got a Cinnabon and a cup of coffee.

This is the tray of Cinnabons, lying in wait.

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This basket of capsules that appear to be filled with sugar sauce caught my eye. I neglected to ask, but I wondered what was up with that? Were those capsules free, as in just take some extra sugar sauce if you want it? Or were they for sale? And how much were they?

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The Molly Pitcher rest area has a dining room, but it smelled like they had recently applied a cleaning product to the floors, so we opted to do the American thing and eat in the car.

This is the Cinnabon, in case you haven’t seen one or if you forgot what they look like.

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It wasn’t very good. Normally I like eating these. It would seem as though they’ve toned down the sugar sauce and poured it in the capsules for you to take. Some damn fool must have complained that there was too much sugar sauce dripping down inside the beating heart of a Cinnabon.

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I vowed never to eat another.

So, in between meals, we drove to the museum and enjoyed the Frida Kahlo show. Her paintings are small, so they don’t really do well in a large show, and there were a lot of small photographs, so there were many times in which we had to wait in small lines to view photographs or paintings. I had my iPod, which I cannot visit a museum without, and I listened to Chavela Vargas, a Mexican singer, and looked at these wonderful paintings. The exhibit presented Frida as a cultural rebel, but not as a political rebel or a sexual rebel, so that was disappointing.

We were seriously hungry when we left the museum, and we drove over to the Italian market section on 9th Street. This is about a six block stretch of old town, with mostly Italian food stores lining both sides. I really enjoy this sort of alternative market style shopping, so it was great fun.

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I was surprised to happen on Fantes. I love Fantes as a mail order source for kitchenware, but I hadn’t realized it would be right here! Even though we were practically skeletal from starvation, we went right in and had a really good time shopping.

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Remember upthread I said I had everything I could possibly want for my kitchen. Ho ho, grasshopper. I found a nice cherry red colander I’d been looking for, some demitasse spoons for the espresso, some silicone ice cube trays that are supposed to make perfectly square ice cubes (which everybody, especially Felix, needs) and a Polder clock timer. The sweet kitchen has one of these fabu timers, and the savory kitchen sorely needs one. If you are a nerd, like I am sometimes, or if you are growing old, like I am sometimes, you can hang it around your neck so you don’t forget you have something in the oven. It has a magnet so you can put it on the fridge. Which is what I want to do with it, because we don’t have a kitchen clock.

While we were checking out, I asked the manager-type guy sitting there if he knew where a certain restaurant that had been recommended to us was. And he didn’t know, no one knew. So I asked him where to eat. And he asked me what sort of place I was looking for. And I said I wanted a place I could write home about.

So he sent us to Shank’s and Evelyn’s.

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Lynn ordered a roast beef sandwich, which came on a nice soft bun dripping with gravy and I ordered a chicken cutlet parmesean which came on a nice soft bun dripping with tomato sauce. They came with a side dish of pickles and peppers. I didn’t eat any of this, but my dad would have loved it.

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These were really good sandwiches and the man in Fantes was right.

After lunch, of course, we needed to do some food shopping. We went into Claudio King of Cheese. They have these giant provolone logs hanging inside the door. They make you want to punch them. I didn’t punch them.

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Lynn found some cracker type things she’d been given at a friend’s house that she was really excited about – Ines Rosales Sweet Olive Oil Tortas. These are individually wrapped in wax paper and imported from Spain. Naturally, we needed some cheese to go with those, so we tasted and decided on Saint Andre and Delice de Bourgone. While Lynn was yakking it up with the guy behind the counter who wanted to swap tasting notes on the Sweet Olive Oil Tortas, I picked out some really nice soft dried figs and some green olives stuffed with gorgonzola. I cannot wait until we eat these on Saturday night.

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After all of this heavy shopping, we needed a little pick-me-up.

With all that Italiana around, naturally there was a coffee bar.

Cappucino and cookies. Cookies filled with chocolate and hazelnut. I’m Italian, so I can say this: Italian sweets rarely taste as good as they look, unless you are eating them in Italy.

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That being eaten, we were free to get in the car and drive home, which we did.

And after we put our loot away we made dinner. I made a crab pie on Sunday – a potato crust filled with crab meat and pepper jack. I’d also made beets. So I heated up the crab pie, and left the beets cold and mixed freshly grated horseradish into some sour cream to make a little dip for the beets.

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I bought the horseradish at the farmer’s market this fall. I peeled it, cut it into small pieces, and froze it. Came out fine.

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Hot tips: The idea for beets with horseradish and sour cream came from Dolores Casella’s The Complete Vegetable Cookbook. Which you can get used from Amazon or half.com, when it comes around. Daisy sour cream is the best. Try it.

Ernie had some sweet potatoes and kiwi.

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I like to bake nice things. And then I eat them. Then I can bake some more.

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Linda:

Damn! I wish I'd started reading your blog earlier. I'd have happliy met you over at the Market to show you around and most certainly for a bite at Shank's & Evelyn's. That's one of my favorite places and I generally get sandwiches there about once per week. The Chicken Parmesan is excellent, as is the roast beef, although I wish it were sliced a bit thinner. They make a very serviceable roast pork as well. But the real show is the ladies behind the counter bickering and gossiping with the customers. Now that's something to write home about. No place else like it.

Claudio's is a great cheese shop, as is DiBruno's a half block down. Did you try any of the fresh mozzarella from Claudio Casieficio next door?? It's as good as it gets, still warm coming out of the cheese machine. Yum. You simply have to try that next time you're here if you missed it. The spice shop in the photo is also a favorite spot of mine. Nice selection of teas and coffee too.

No mention of horrific traffic tie-ups either on your way in or out of our fair city?? The three mile stretch of I-95 that's closed for repairs due to a cracked bridge support made it onto CNN earlier today. It's been a mess and probably won't be fixed until late Wednesday. Hope it wasn't too much of an inconvenience.


Katie M. Loeb
Booze Muse, Spiritual Advisor

Author: Shake, Stir, Pour:Fresh Homegrown Cocktails

Cheers!
Bartendrix,Intoxicologist, Beverage Consultant, Philadelphia, PA
Captain Liberty of the Good Varietals, Aphrodite of Alcohol

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Katie, I am sorry I missed you, truly sorry. I'm glad I stumbled on some good stuff all the same. My favorite detail on the ladies behind the counter was the average fingernail length. I was in awe.

What is that sandwich with what looks like a nice long, breaded and fried slice of eggplant, a cereal bowl of green spinachy looking stuff (chard?), some cheese, and etc.? The guy at the counter next to me had one of those and I was seriously jealous. I could not figure out what it was based on the menu.

There were no traffic problems in or out of either of the cities, some sort of miracle.

Next time I'm around, I'll drop you a line and perhaps we can meet up. I'm always prepared to sit at the knee of an imbibification expert.

I extend the same invitation to you, and anyone who knows Lindacakes from eGullet and is in the city: PM me and we shall eat and drink together.

I enter the shower filled with fresh mozzarella regrets.


I like to bake nice things. And then I eat them. Then I can bake some more.

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I use Illy canned coffee in this pot, and I believe that learning how to make it is what got me started on eGullet.
Happy Anniversary, Linda. May your wry wit grace eGullet for at least another 4 years. :wink:

Ernie has beautiful markings. I grew up with 3 amazons and two golden conures. I was told never to feed them things with salt or it's bye-bye birdie.

Great travels. Wonderful photos. Top-notch opinion.

Blog on.


"I took the habit of asking Pierre to bring me whatever looks good today and he would bring out the most wonderful things," - bleudauvergne

foodblogs: Dining Downeast I - Dining Downeast II

Portland Food Map.com

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In Which Questions are Answered and Confessions are Made.

Thank you everyone who is responding to my posts! I love this community and I’m really happy to see that so many of us are bird owners. Face it, birds are cool, and it’s fun to eat with birds. When I was heart-brokenly between parrots, I did a lot of eating out so that I didn’t have to go home to the emptiness and I really missed eating with a parrot.

I earlier made a sweeping statement about poisonous foods, thinking no one out there would really know what I was talking about. You’re right, not all of those foods are “poisonous” to birds, although I am of the understanding that chocolate and avocado are. Caffeine and alcohol are just bad ideas. Kouign Aman (geez, I love those things, the pastry, I mean) conjectured on the concept of a wired parrot and I’d have to agree with that. Ernie is non-stop, practically even when he is sleeping, and the very idea of a hepped-up conure winging his way about the house sends a shiver down my spine.

CaliPoutine asked if Ernie flys. Ernie’s wings are clipped and sometimes when he gets shaggy, he can take a little soar, especially if he’s scared. Which is why many a bird owner clips her bird’s wings, for the bird’s own safety. This way, he can’t fly into a boiling pot or some other ghastly place. There are different schools of thought on this, but I believe the convention is to clip for safety. It also keeps the bird tamer.

Kim asked for some pictures of the neighborhood.

This is my street. It is a lot prettier when there are leaves on the trees.

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These are the enemy condos. Two of them anyway.

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I can answer Margo’s question about art as business or pleasure by talking about the condos. 9/11 focused people’s interest on New York, and a lot of young people moved here afterwards. And since then, there has been a lot of construction of new “luxury” housing in New York. Which is taller, and with much bigger windows, and more ammenities (think washers, dryers, dish washers) that I’m not sure the physical infrastructure of a city as old as New York can handle, but that’s another blog.

The condos block my view of the city now, but I watched the World Trade Center fall from my roof. That morning, Lynn had left for work, and she came back in saying that a plane had hit the World Trade Center; that it was on fire. So we went up there to take a look, and saw that indeed there was a fire and we thought (like everyone) that a small plane had hit the building.

We tried to get in the car and go to work, and in that time, the first tower fell. We turned around and went back home and up to the roof with a pair of binoculars, a radio and a camera and held vigil. Within minutes, we saw the second tower fall.

And my life changed in a very interesting way at that moment. Watching a building melt presented me with the concept that buildings were ephemeral, which was a brand new way of looking at things. And I read a book by the Italian journalist Oriana Fallaci which I found disappointingly reactionary, but she presented a European viewpoint, a viewpoint formed by the destruction of cities in World War II. That architecture, and the artwork it often protects, is also vulnerable.

So I decided it was important to see those buildings and that artwork with my own eyes, as soon as possible.

Which brings me to the question Heidih asked, about espresso and the other revelations of Italy.

I went to Italy to see artwork, I took several trips and saw as much as I could, and fell in love with the food. A girl has got to eat in between museums. She can’t just pass out in a gallery. It isn’t nice.

The one food that I think was most revelatory to me was white truffles. I didn’t know anything about them, and in the little town of San Gimignano where not much has changed since the plague of 1348, I ordered a risotto that came with white truffles shaved on top.

When I got back from Italy, I went to all sorts of fancy shmancy Italian restaurants trying to replicate that. And it wasn’t possible. Another revelation: food actually tastes best near the soil in which it is grown, prepared by the people who have been living there all their lives.

Which is why we cannot get a Shank's and Evelyn’s chicken cutlet sandwich in Paris.

This link just in: Holly Eats. She’s apparently an eGulleter. God bless you, Holly, for making the grease stains on our shirts respectable.

On topic: today’s lunch.

Packed in my Sigg lunchbox. Available at Reusable Bags. These are excellent, but if you get one, be careful with the rubber gasket. Too hot water loosens it and then the tomato juice from your lunch leaks all over your handbag.

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Actual vegetable matter. A nice chickpea/tomato/onion/ginger salad with cooked kale and some fruit on the side.


I like to bake nice things. And then I eat them. Then I can bake some more.

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Thank you for pointing out that it is my fourth anniversary today.

When I look at my time/post ration, it would seem as though I lurk a lot.

:unsure:


I like to bake nice things. And then I eat them. Then I can bake some more.

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An Announcement.

Girl Scout cookies are in season.

A box arrived from our niece in Atlanta. With orders for the office. The cookies have been dispensed, the money has been collected, it's safe to bring our boxes home. You will hear more about them this evening.

Last night we ordered in. Italian. More about this later, too.

Although I reveal this sugar/pasta/bread display with some dismay. Note Fat Pack thread. A dark cloud has passed over the party. The F word is being used. The head hangs.

But I do not eat offal.


I like to bake nice things. And then I eat them. Then I can bake some more.

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Although I reveal this sugar/pasta/bread display with some dismay.  Note Fat Pack thread.  A dark cloud has passed over the party.  The F word is being used.  The head hangs.

oh no :sad: I for one will shut completely up on this subject and no longer harsh the sugar buzz...I want you to continue with good spirits for sure you are a delight to read Linda :wub:


why am I always at the bottom and why is everything so high? 

why must there be so little me and so much sky?

Piglet 

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A dark cloud has passed over the party

Well, I don't know. I started looking round at the way Japanese friends who like to bake deal with the results, and realized that they give away a lot of what they bake, and in fact it's so much part of their mindset that they buy cute bags and other packaging along with their baking supplies.

I bet your baking gets shared quite a lot too?

Your lunchbox looks just like an old-fashioned Japanese aluminum lunchbox, minus the dividers! I've seen Sigg water bottles here, but not lunchboxes. Is that the lunchbox you mostly use?

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It is the lunchbox I mostly use -- it's lightweight, if you're careful with it it won't leak. I read all sorts of frightening information about the off-gassing of plastic and stopped using Tupperware-type containers. I still use the disposable ZipLoc containers, as the off-gassing is supposed to be worse over time.

The right name for the chemical problem is Bisphenol-A.

I did a lot of research into the lunchbox! There's a lot of people trying to deal with that challenge. I like this one because I don't have to carry an extra bag, I can slip it in my shoulder bag. I imagine there are many clever Japanese solutions to this problem.

Hummingbirdkiss, doll, has anyone over in Fat Pack mentioned high fructose corn syrup? Your post (especially the part about skin folds) made me very sad.

Sharing, yes. Sharing was recommended by a Weight Watchers leader and it's a good idea. All of the fun of making it and then more fun when you share it. I usually bake once a week, on Sunday, and then share it. There will be sharing this week.


I like to bake nice things. And then I eat them. Then I can bake some more.

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Linda, this is a great blog. Great writing.

Daisy Sour Cream: I find it a little hard to believe that something so good is available in the regular old supermarket, any time.

And I think it is very nice that the whole fam eats on turquoise Fiestaware.


Priscilla

Writer, cook, & c. ● #TacoFriday observant ●  Twitter    Instagram

 

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In Which Questions are Answered and Confessions are Made.

This link just in:  Holly Eats.  She’s apparently an eGulleter.  God bless you, Holly, for making the grease stains on our shirts respectable.

Absolutely loving your foodblog. You may want to check out another page on Holly's blog.

Clicky clicky

She, as it turns out, is a he. :biggrin:


Flickr: Link

Instagram: Link

Twitter: Link

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Thanks for the notes on Holly. You are the second person to tell me he is a he. I'm anxious to send this link to a friend of mine who has a son named Hollister (part of a twin set known as Hollister and Porter).

I'm also anxious to see Sandwiches You Will Like. I have had this in the NetFlix cue for some time due to a thread on food movies. Other half laughed at me. Now, of course, she wants to see it. She's the one who cleans the grease stains out of my shirts. A saint.

I am behind in my blogging due to full time job. I was just going to take a picture of my desk after I whacked the crumbs out of my keyboard for you, but I apparently did that not long ago because the result wasn't photogenic.

Coming later today:

Last night's dinner, also served on Fiestaware. We have other dishes. Those are the everyday dishes. Ernie gets to use it too, but he does have his own bird crocks.

This morning's breakfast, which is a derivative of last night's dinner.

What I just ate for lunch, which involved tuna. Which I pay eleven dollars a jar for. Tuna belly.

The vegetable box. It's Thursday, it comes on Thursday.

The process of doing this is really pointing out to me how much of my life is influenced by the information I absorb about food. Mostly from eGullet and The Splendid Table and Good Food podcasts.

Daisy sour cream is a new discovery of mine and I am determined to get the word out. Everyone please go out and buy some and then make a dish you really like to have sour cream on. You will be so happy.


I like to bake nice things. And then I eat them. Then I can bake some more.

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I'm also anxious to see Sandwiches You Will Like.  I have had this in the NetFlix cue for some time due to a thread on food movies.  Other half laughed at me.  Now, of course, she wants to see it.  She's the one who cleans the grease stains out of my shirts.  A saint.

I picked up a copy of Sandwiches You Will Like during a PBS fund drive a couple of years ago. Great documentary! I still watch it from time to time. It turned me on to a number of great spots during a visit to Philly.

In fact, food geek that I am, I was wandering down 9th Street in Philly and lo and behold I was standing in front of George's Sandwich shop -- and the guy from the movie was actually serving customers.

I could care less if Tom Cruise walks in the room. But this guy ... was ROYALTY. From what I remember, he serves a killer roast pork sandwich.


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The Doorbell Rings. Food Arrives.

A Poem, by Henry Gibson

The day is long.

Exhaustion descends.

A call is made.

From the Williamsburg bridge.

The doorbells rings.

Food arrives.

From the wonderful Italian restaurant around the corner. All is right with the world.

This restaurant is a locus for the locals. A womb for the wounded. A place for old-school Catholics to eat seafood on Friday. It’s a wonderful place to be. And also a wonderful place from which to order carry out. You can call and ask what the specials are. Someone will tell you about five dishes that are not available on the regular menu, but only available on a rotating basis. You have to wait for the pork chops to come around again.

This is what you’ll find in the bag:

Linguini with clam sauce. Eggplant rollatini. Chicken soup with tiny shells. Salad with lots of vinegar. Thick wheat bread slices.

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After plating:

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Note that Ernie is standing on a T-stand. I trained him to do this as a baby, and bless his heart, he’s really good about it. For the most part, he eats his dinner from the T-stand and does not wander around taking food from plates. I feed him. This behavior is reinforced by not feeding him if he wanders, especially when he wanders up my arm and onto my shoulder. Don't think I'm superior -- my last parrot would walk across the pizza.

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Normally, he eats soup from a soup spoon and he relishes it, but this is more entertaining:

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You noticed the bread that was in the first picture of the food, fresh out of the bag? I don’t keep bread in the house. So when there’s carry out Italian food, I keep the bread as a treat. This showed up on the breakfast table this morning. Toasted. Buttered. And embellished with cow/sheep/goat robiola.

gallery_28660_5810_31426.jpg


I like to bake nice things. And then I eat them. Then I can bake some more.

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That Lunch Box Again.

This was today’s lunch. One of my favorite lunches. Some nice potatoes. Green beans. Tuna. Lemon juice. Freshly ground pepper. This is worth going to work for.

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Tasting notes on lunch: I buy tuna from Buon Italia, one of my favorite places to shop. It comes in a jar, not a can, and it costs eleven bucks a jar. It’s tuna belly. If you Google tuna belly, one million eGullet threads come up. You can eat a jar of tuna belly with your bare hands while you read them. I buy whole carrots, smelling of the earth, and cut them into carrot sticks myself. I once got laughed at at the Farmer’s market for smelling carrots. The pear was incredible. The pears have been incredible lately.

On carrots: Easy, delicious, make-ahead carrot dish that will get raves -- Moroccan Carrot Salad from Chez Panisse Vegetables: Peel carrots. Cut in half lengthwise. Boil in salted water with a crushed clove of garlic. Drain and cool. Toss with cumin, paprika, salt and a pinch each of cinnamon and cayenne. Toss with lemon juice, olive oil, and chopped parsley. Let it set for an hour.


I like to bake nice things. And then I eat them. Then I can bake some more.

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"Hummingbirdkiss, doll, has anyone over in Fat Pack mentioned high fructose corn syrup? Your post (especially the part about skin folds) made me very sad."

No but that is a good point ..as it is is every single thing we eat, touch or breath anymore... :raz:

As soon as I read you blog I quit looking at the Fat Pack enough is enough...and it is certianly enough to do this at work at... home should be peace and pleasure if one can find it ...

my job makes me very sad sometimes to be honest (I should not even post from there) ..I love my patients and it hurts to see people hurting ..so it is easy for me to get caught up in the argument ..that and the need for distraction now....

I am going back to watching Ernie eat now ..he is such a delight ..my girls are badly behaved ...I am thinking if I let Flower and Kiwi on the table ..no one would eat they would kill each other attacking plates for food ..they are not very well behaved when it comes to eating ...

so we have to contain them during dinner time! I put music on for them in another room and they dine alone ...

Ernie is a doll baby!


Edited by hummingbirdkiss (log)

why am I always at the bottom and why is everything so high? 

why must there be so little me and so much sky?

Piglet 

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What music do the birds prefer?

I sing to Ernie, and the only songs he responds to, are Kumbaya and Down by the River.

Go figure.

The verses of Kumbaya are all about him:

"Someone's screaming, Lord, Kumbaya!"

and

"Someone's biting, Lord, Kumbaya!"

It calms him down anyway.


I like to bake nice things. And then I eat them. Then I can bake some more.

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