All posts filed under: beverages

chocolate rose mousse, from a raisin & a porpoise

I rose up

Summer shifted. Even though I have yet to feel like it has really begun, this morning when I woke up the heavy mist that signals impending August and its determined slide into September was hanging over everything. By mid-morning, the sun burned through and now we’re getting more of that crazy gorgeous big blue sky we’ve been treated to all season. But I know what I saw. In a regular summer, I find it a little difficult to write about cooking. There is a lot of everything green, and not a lot of time. We can eat handsomely without much effort, and more often than not we eat in the dark. We eat a giant salad or we eat—as we have lately, almost every night, in this not-very-regular summer—some variation on greens and rice. Stir-fried greens with rice. Curried greens with rice. Fried rice, with…greens! Greens on noodles for a little excitement! Handful of green beans, handful of chard, kale, spinach, some of whatever weed is in the yard, all hastily gathered into the apron …

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spa day for roosters

One Fourth

Been a while.  For one thing, we’ve been, as my father likes to say, busier than one-armed paper-hangers.  (When I was 16, I actually met a one-armed paper-hanger, which added a whole extra nuance to that expression of my dad’s.  He was, in truth, a busy fellow.)  For another, it is hot and muggy and has rained enough to make me think more about building an ark than a menu.  For a third thing, the mosquitos around here are like terrorist zombie invaders, and big and numerous enough to carry off what’s left of my brain. My most note-worthy activity of the week, other than stumbling across this and being reassured that there are far loonier people in the world than me, has surely been tending to the swollen foot of our eldest rooster, Duane, who will probably hear from someone (it won’t be me) that he was already lucky not to be coq au vin at his age, and especially after this week.  But because he knows nothing of French food, when we offered …

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big teas

A little housekeeping first: the subscription link over there in the sidebar finally works. Apologies for the long time when it didn’t.  Ice packs for the lump on my head from banging it on the desk trying to fix it gratefully accepted.  I have almost every confidence that if you sign up using the new gizmo, you will actually receive an alert when I post. And believe me, you won’t want to miss even one of the intimidatingly challenging and exotic recipes you have come to expect here. To wit, today’s offering: a cup of tea. “You may have noticed,” said my son this morning, “that I have begun to really like toast.” He comes by it honestly. There is a long double genetic line of inheritance behind this fondness of his, with both parents coming from toast-centric households. It’s only a mild understatement to say that in my opinion, buttered toast and hot tea are two of the cornerstones of a nice life, as well as two of the most direct routes to re-establishing …

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