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It’s October 2014 and there’s a whole lot to love.
For starters, Sean Brock’s new book, Heritage, which just came out this month. Let’s just say it makes me want nothing more than to grab my husband, hightail it down to Charleston, camp out on Sean’s back steps and hope he feeds us.
(Not before putting his book on my Christmas wish list, of course).
Sean you are my culinary hero. Continue reading
I have this thing for shrimp.
It’s not because of how they look.
They’re not particularly pretty.
And let’s face it, they look kind of alien too.
Now, not that I have anything against aliens — I’m sure they could be very nice — but I’m not quite sure putting anything on one’s plate (let alone one’s stomach) that looks like it could pilot a space ship would be such a good idea. Continue reading
I saved my plants yesterday.
From a certain watery demise.
Just between you and me, it could just be putting off the inevitable.
But I’m not telling my plants that.
You see, it’s been raining a lot here in the Seattle area. And when I say a lot, I mean The-Second-Coming-of-The-Ark a lot. Continue reading
I must admit, Tuesdays are not my favorite thing.
It’s the day of the week when the Lawn People come to tend to my apartment complex’s green stuff.
They descend upon it like a swarm of weed-whacking locusts and hang out from 8:00am – 3:00pm to drive me nuts, and make me want to go jiu jitsu on the next nearest living thing.
They add to the already omnipresent noise of yowling little toddler residents, and the frenzied “Go potty, come on, go potty, go potty…don’t eat that!” of dog-crazy people waiting for their dogs to poop just below my kitchen window.
I know that the Lawn People are here to at least make things pretty for me, but it all just makes me want to go ballistic. Continue reading
Parsley is a sleeper.
It may grow like gang busters, but not something I’d ever viewed as a main ingredient to, well, anything.
I was wrong.
A few days ago, last Friday to be exact, I made my way — read: a few stockinged-feet — to my apartment balcony to the place where my garden grows.
It is a veritable jungle out there, thirty-five square feet of sunflower, chive, rosemary, thyme, sage, mint, lavender, Frontenac grape-growing mania. Continue reading
I know I’m not alone when I say, “I love bacon”. I heart it. I really, really heart it.
“Breakfast for dinner” is also a near, dear-to-my heart personal motto of mine. Why have dinner when you can have breakfast? Why have lunch when you can have breakfast for lunch? It even turns out, that it just so ended up, that I even married a Bacon (the best, very sweetest kind). The Universe got it.
I think you get the idea.
What I have never hearted though are the third-degree burns I always get when making bacon in a pan. Sweet Mother Mercy, dodging bacon grease is not something I need on my list of “To Do” in the kitchen. Not-to-mention (okay, I just did), the constant flipping and tending to — then, the messy clean-up. Continue reading
Small Kitchen Chronicles 