All posts filed under: honey

lemon apple jam bars, from a raisin & a porpoise

now we’re jammin’

Goodness me, can someone grab the license number off that truck that ran me off the road?  Vanity plates, you say?  Knew it!  SANTA1. It’s not that I wasn’t cooking over the holidays.  It’s just that, though I tried to keep them all spinning, the plate marked “photographing and musing aloud about cooking” was among those I dropped.  Sometimes when I think about spinning plates, I imagine my friend Roger the Jester and his ability to do nimble acts of balancing and make me laugh until I pee, and sometimes I think about a book I read long ago about a boy with sensory issues who liked to sit alone in a corner and spin a white plate on a tile floor to calm himself. The holidays saw me leaning more toward the latter example. I did manage to wring out the teeny tiny gingerbread houses, the ones that perch on cocoa mugs to the delight of children of all ages.  Longtime readers will recall that last year I made a batch of houses that …

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ricotta cheesecake, gluten free!

a whole lotta cheesecake

I had a post all ready to go for you about cheesecake, because I made one that was intensely tasty, but then we went to New Orleans for the weekend and by the time I got back from that densely caloric trip, I couldn’t bear to think about anything sweet or rich. Among the things we came home to was this little item: I snapped that picture on the room-service run to the coop yesterday morning, thinking she (I don’t actually know that that the baby chicken is female; I just like to encourage all the chicks to be, well, chicks, as we are overstocked with very vocal roosters) would make a nice poster child for whatever light, healthy, springtime food I was going to write about today. Except that now she is on my dining room table, wearing a little leg splint and comfrey compress and peeping like a maniac in the cardboard box my daughter set up for her last night when she found her unable to put weight on her right leg.  …

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buckwheat granola

those weasels

    I’ll say one thing about moping.  You can turn up some interesting stuff on the internet.  Let’s not explore how it is that I came to see the story about the fake poodles: Let’s also not, for the moment, delve into how anyone could need a veterinarian to tell them that their ‘poodle’ was a ferret.  Let’s furthermore leave aside what the woman who was in the market for a chihuahua (a notion which in and of itself raises more questions than it answers, frankly) actually went home with.  OK–it was also a rodent.  SHE COULDN’T TELL THE DIFFERENCE.  I’m just saying. Let’s instead focus our attentions on how the people (there must be some–it’s a big wide world) who are actually in the market for a ferret on steroids could be duped right here in my yard: It’s striking, isn’t it? Anyone ready to buy?  We take Visa and MasterCard. If, instead, you are ready to eat granola, which I am at most any time of day, get busy with this excellent …

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