I also want the Moosewood Restaurant’s Cooking For Health cookbook for Christmas.
Thanks.
I will hold any repeat copies of The Best American Nonrequired Reading for a friend who has requested to have them.
A recipe I want to try from the Moosewood website; probably because I’m thinking about Christmas every day now:
Annie Wade’s Sweet Potato Soufflé
(popular holiday dish with readers)
3 cups mashed cooked sweet potatoes (about 2 large sweet potatoes, peeled)
¼ cup brown sugar
3 tablespoons butter
4 eggs, beaten
¼ cup light rum
¼ teaspoon cinnamon
Preheat the oven to 350º.
Combine the mashed sweet potatoes with the rest of the ingredients. Beat well by hand or with an electric mixer. Fold into a buttered 2-quart baking dish.
Bake for 45 to 50 minutes or until a knife inserted into the center comes out clean and the top is firm and golden.
I want the Best American Nonrequired Reading editions 2004 to 2009 for Christmas.
I…
I just don’t know about a harmonica sound in a funk song.
It ain’t funk if there’s a harmonica.
10:58 am, Friday N/06
It seems that perpetually, my apartment smells like liver sausage.
I was telling Lisa yesterday while we were trying to cheer each other up (after all, it seems things do get worse when things are already bad) about the chopped liver at Kaplan’s however long ago that was now.
And she says, “You know, I just can’t like it. It looks and smells like cat food. I just don’t think that it’s right.”
I laughed and agreed, because she’s right.
I’ve been feeding the cat wet food and it does indeed look and smell like chopped liver (but it isn’t ?).
After I feed him I can’t get rid of the smell for like two hours.
It would smell like my Polish grandparent’s house, if I had a gas stove and a dog.
This morning when I woke up, I opened the window to relieve my bedroom of the bacon smell. Bacon is nothing but a good smell, except when it lingers at your pillow for longer than a few minutes.
I am still studying the basement air flow.
I stumbled to the kitchen, made coffee and sniffed out a not exactly fresh turd Lemmy left in my storage space.
I rubbed his nose in it, filled the sink, and scrubbed out the stains.
I then washed my face, took a vitamin D and retreated to my bedroom to do some aerobics.
I turned on the radio and pretended I had a skipping rope in hand. I then did some Tae Bo moves..you know, Billy Blank I think his name was? I had a flashback to high school gym class, to the kicking and the awful “double time!” Billy would shout from the TV screen.
Anyway, I felt okay about it when I finished.
Yesterday Christa, my mom and I went to Kaplan’s (Jewish delicatessen, 5775 Oak Street) for lunch. My mom and grandma worked there in what I assume were the early seventies - grandma in the kitchen and my mother working the deli counter.
So we went, to see how it was. A bit of nostalgia for my ageing mother.
We ordered liver and onions to start.
Delicious. I’m not kidding. Try it some time. I’ll take you there.
My sister ordered a Rueben which was very tasty, while my mom and I ordered borscht…which was the absolute WORST borscht (if that’s what you’re willing to call it) I’ve ever had. In my entire existence! I wanted to pull the waitress over and be like, “What is this? What do you call this?” in some New York accent.
Seriously, it was grated beets, white vinegar and lukewarm water. Not even exaggerating.
Christa was kind enough to share half of her rueben, and her latkas, which left us feeling good once we walked out of the deli.
But really, I had this taste in my mouth that I needed to fulfill - so I came home and made some myself.
And now I’m going for dinner and making a delivery while I’m at it.
(It looks better in real life. My food photography skills are really the best, I know, however the digital photo does not do it justice.)
I just woke from a dream in which I was pregnant.
I was at the hospital, waiting to go into labour.
I have never been filled with more guilt and anxiety..I was thinking about adoption, and what would I do if I kept the baby?
All of these other young women in the hospital weren’t pregnant and were talking about their lives: trivial, dramatic. I felt alone, unexperienced, way behind in what I wanted to accomplish in life. Now everything would change, I would have this baby; I would be forever in an anxious disposition, wondering when and if it would all end.
I woke up feeling lonely and thinking about Christmas, and whether or not I should put up the tree this year.
My very first stained glass project, post-fitting, pre-soldering.
Note how simple this design is? Everyone else in my class picked WAY more complicated stuff and I wonder how they’re doing in the fitting process. It ain’t easy. You think you cut out your pieces perfectly, and then when you’re fitting them all the angles are off and you have huge gaps. I don’t have a grinder at home, so I am stuck breaking off pieces of glass with my pliers.
Anyhow, I realized at some point after noticing I was giving out huge, loud sighs that I felt like I wanted to quit. This is me. If I don’t get things perfectly the first time I feel like I’m not cut out for the job.
After a few minutes of self-counselling,
I decided to stick it out this time.
I’ll post a picture after I’m done soldering and you all can see how warped and misshapen it turns out to be.
