A repost, oldie but goodie: An introduction to the wild and weird spirit of northern New Mexico, and my favorite-ever black bean soup recipe.
A delightful and instructive tour of our kitchen for future house-sitters, and also as a note to self. Every kitchen has its foibles, and ours is no exception.
Pommes Dauphine is a classic French dish combining potatoes with a choux pastry – difficult to make but fabulous to eat. And we revisit more memories of my late cousin Joe Hyde, “semi-legendary” chef among his celebrity clients and friends.
Who on earth would fish for striped bass, chest-deep, in a suit and derby hat? Who would tell you to age your game meat just long enough for it to attract maggots? Welcome to the wild world of Chef Joe Hyde, caterer to the stars, and my second cousin. Also, a beautiful high-heat roast beef recipe from Joe’s cookbook – it’s all in the timing.
Tortilla – a wonderful, easy to make stove-top egg and potato dish from Spain, and I remember some friends who went through a 3-day “personal development” course called “The Forum.” Weird stuff.
A spicy Moroccan concoction of lamb balls (kefta) and buttery couscous – very tender and exotically flavored if you stick to the original recipe (we didn’t). Plus, after some polling of a few friends roughly my age, why is it that we seem to have fewer close friends as we grow older? Is it okay? Is it normal?
I’m a sucker for really good dance performance – dance that bends the rules, keeps us on our toes. “Grit and Grace” at the Camden Opera House April 1 and 2 was all of that, and a lot more. Awesome stuff, thanks to Kea Tesseyman and her Kinetic Energy Alive company of dancers, ages 6 to 60.
I struggle with iMovie on my Mac and eventually come out with something I like – my photos set to a very cool song. Also, Margaret checks in with the story of Milton Breel’s chat with his son-in-law to be.
Just made my first-ever piping hot wrap roll-up with a gluten-free wrap. Huge success! A few noodlings on gluten sensitivity, and then we bid a hearty “B’bye” to what used to be the “New South.”
In which I contemplate the qualifications and challenges of becoming a part-time guru, possibly poised atop Mount Battie.