A no great shakes, no brainer goodie: corn fritters

November 18th

Everyone craves something...we all have secret loves of food. In Italy, my son, Nico, grew up on Nutella, the Italian chocolate-hazelnut spread that comes in jars similar to peanut butter, and is now sold at Publix for $3.95. He grew up healthy, skinny and into a 6’3” frame—tasting everything and anything—including a fish eye, and rabbit’s brains.

Among other things he loves, are home-made corn fritters. I made corn on the cob the other night, and when I have a few cobs left over—corn on them, naturally—I pop them in a zip lock baggie and into the fridge for later on in the week, (sometimes I even freeze them and they’re great!) which worked out perfectly since Nico stayed unexpectedly for dinner after his plans disintegrated.

Here's what I did. I cut the corn off two tender medium cobs, put the corn in a mini blender with 3/4 cup of flour (complete balderdash and a lie! I did it by eye), a splash of milk, two eggs, and instead of sugar, used 4-5 packets of Splenda, as I don't want to be accused of anything “untoward,” since my husband has diabetes. Add two teaspoons of baking powder, two teaspoons of pure vanilla (never imitation …puleeese!).

Now here’s the tricky part—I always have on hand fennel seeds. Are they in your seasoning rack or pantry closet? If not, you might want to keep them on hand from now on. I put about one generous—that is heaping to over-flowing--tablespoon into a Teflon fry pan and put the heat up high to toast them. When they perfumed my kitchen, I took them off the heat and squashed the living daylights out of them with a potato masher—this does two things: it vents any anger you’ve been harboring, and it further releases the aroma of the seeds. Toss the seeds into the mixture.

You may add a pinch of salt. I did not do this last night, because the water in which I cooked the corn had already been lightly salted. When the mixture is completely blended, add a splash of brandy. I did this last night, sometimes I use Sambuca or Grand Marnier … but last night, I reached for Brandy, and it worked fine.

Heat corn oil (never olive!) to very hot in a lovely little fry pan with a study bottom that will hold at least 6 of these fritters. I usually do 6 at a time. Why? Because my mother-in-law, Amparito, did them this way, and I learned from her. No, she didn’t measure either.

Ingredients:

2 medium shucked corn cobs
¾ cup of flour
2 teaspoons of baking powder
1 tablespoon of toasted fennel seeds
a splash of milk
two eggs
two teaspoons of pure vanilla extract
a splash of Brandy


Makes 18 to 24 fritters, depending on your generosity or miserly hand.

P. S. Yes, you can also use canned corn—for shame! And frozen corn, in a pinch, if you have no fresh-frozen from your own little mitts.

Artichokes, anytime ... if you can find them!

Nov 16th Artichokes

I made this spring/summer dish (depending on if you can find fresh artichokes) and sent the recipe to Lynne Barrett via e-mail 4/15/06, Easter Saturday. But it’s autumn now, but since I found these delightful little artichokes in Publix I decided to make this dish, and because the chokes inside are smaller to deal with than the larger, not so tender, ones (that is to say, here in the States—in Italy, they’re fabulous, but then again, don’t I say that about everything Italian? But in this instance, of course, it happens to be true.)

PASTA AI CARCIOFI
Pasta with artichokes

I bought 2 dozen of the little baby artichokes ... these are the ones I used the hearts of to “put up” or conserve under oil ... the very ones you pay a small fortune for in an Italian deli. I did this usually in Italy in May at the end of the season. What work! I josh not. If you want the exact recipe, I'll be happy to send it along to you. Clue me. But truthfully, what’s the point? It’s much less work and in the long run cheaper to buy a jar in your local Italian deli, such as Bella Monte’s on Atlantic Blvd., Pompano Beach.

Anyway you cut off the tops of the artichokes, clean the steams but leave some middle part. Here the stems are very short—another absurdity—they are delicious, so why do the pickers and grocers cut them off? It’s like the zucchini flowers. I dare you to tell me what supermarket sells them in south Florida—or for that matter anywhere? You have to pick them, which means a drive to LA.

Continuing … you pare down the leaves to the whitish/yellowish ones—and quarter—and cut out the hairy choke. Toss these into a bowl with lotsa lemon and water—and perhaps a dash of white vinegar to keep them white, else they turn black in seconds before your eyes like food for baby vampires.

In a heavy saucepan—I use my mother's old iron one—lace the bottom with a generous spill of extra virgin olive oil, some sliced onion and minced garlic—I usually put the garlic through a press—and fling in the artichokes—turn up the heat high for about 10 minutes and season with salt, pepper, garlic powder and mint. (In Italy we use "mentuccia," which is found growing wild and is much stronger than regular mint. Douse with fresh squeezed lemon(at least a ½ glass, and a hit of water, perhaps another 1/2 a glass, and a goblet full to brimming of Pinot Grigio—I cook with whatever we're drinking! Chardonnay is nice, a little oakey, and so is Sauvignon Blanc, a little fruity—just make sure it’s white. Lower the heat.

Cover the pot with a brown paper bag cut to fit over the bottom ... I have no clue why—just do it, and then a tight lid cover. I always make them like this (perhaps they steam better), as I was taught that way 37 years ago by the Portiere--Domenica Centini, the door lady in my first apartment in Rome on Via Alberto Cadlolo 15.

One never forgets details like that and the fact that she had two fat cats that sunned themselves in the rose garden--we had roses even in December, even after the last cacchi (persimmons), a true gift from God before winter’s advent—it is as delectable as tropical fruit. I had two trees growing up from the downstairs neighbor’s garden in our apartment at Via Prisciano 1, and we never lacked for them—you pick them hard before the bird get them—the one s you can reach, naturally, and then you line up these orange globes on your windowsills, and watch the magic of nature as they turn deep in color and soft to touch. (Pardon, the digression).

Now lower the heat and cook for 1/2 hour to 45 minutes

Toss with pasta handfuls of fresh grated Parmigiano Reggiano!
P. S. If you like bay leaf--you can add one to the pot

Also carciofi like this may be added to fave and fresh garden peas for an insalata gardiniera~! Perfect in spring and for Easter. Season with oil, lemon, minced onion, mint. Salt and pepper to taste.

Last spring when I spoke to my friend Sandra in Milano, she was making baby goat and agretti, thick grass-like stringbeans, perhaps a skinny forerunner of actual stringbeans, and not found in these here parts, sorry to say. Also "puntarella" (found only in Rome!) a pointy salad—a total bitch to clean! served with garlic and anchovies to die for! (Ask Felipe if that's a lie)

Tomorrow I'll call my aunts in Sicily, which reminds me of my Mom’s stuffed artichokes.

Easy as pie—wash and cut of the tops, run a lemon all over the outer leaves, stuff the leaves with a mixture of seasoned breadcrumbs and grated cheese--parmigiano and or pecorino and baptize the whole thing with olive oil. Place the stuffed artichokes in a huge heavy pot in about an inch of water, lemon, and white wine, and a sprinkle of more oil. Turn the heat high for 10 minutes--when the water burbles--such a Brooklyn word! lower and cook on low heat for another 35. the leaves should be tender at the bottom ends, and stay put but want to fall off. Vai a capire!

Maybe I’ll call Sandra in Milano, and Pina in Rome just to see what they’re cooking ... how I miss Italy!!! Always around the holidays, it seems worse. (Even though they don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, I always made a turkey dinner and it was enjoyed. The sweet potatoes I used to buy at the market were white inside with a chestnutty flavor … scrumptious.

Blessing to all for Thanksgiving. We all have so much to be thankful for--I'm thankful for you for having read this blog to the end and your family will be thankful when you experiment with artichokes.

Shameful self-promotion!

Dimsum: Asia's Literary Journal
Nury Vittachi, ed Hong Kong International Literary Festival and Chameleon Press, Spring 2005

"Get Down on Your Duff and Read ...
Do you read? A simple question that elicits either nervous laughter or sneering indignation. The question is not one of literacy so much as one of culture. We all read. Anyone who graduated from high school or holds down a job reads. The question is whether or not we read for the sheer pleasure of it. " (bc Magazine)

Now in its tenth volume, Dimsum continues to attract authors from all walks of life. In all, 19 authors and 25 works are featured. Each author comes with their own introduction, and the work here is as rich and diverse as the backgrounds and experiences of the writers. The opening story, "I Have No Name of My Own" by Yu Hua is told through the eyes of a village idiot, and is eerily touching within its limited, simplistic language. Its simple lexis is juxtaposed with Thomas Keneally's "Sydney Experiment," a true exercise in the English language.

Set in China when foot binding was still common, "The Rain," an excerpt from the novel, The Secret Language of Women, by Nina Romano depicts an educated, forward-thinking woman's quest to abort her baby before her backward farmer of a husband discovers she's pregnant with their second child.

Poet Alvin Pang eloquently describes the hopes, dreams and fears of seven unrelated characters in SE7EN. On a lighter note, Hsu-Ming Teo's The Truth in Toilets is wonderfully accurate in its portrayal of a Chinese mother's embarrassing public toilet habits, while Mani Rao explores our deception of our heritages. A great anthology for discovering new talents or revisiting favourites, even if it's not all your cup of tea.

Available at:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_gw/103-7699410-1347855?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=dimsum

Dimsum Asia's Literary Journal, Spring 2005 by Thomas Keneally, Hua Yu, Nina Romano, and Nury Vittachi (Paperback - Feb 28, 2005)
Buy new: $14.00 25 Used & new from $9.55
Get it by Thursday, Nov 15 if you order in the next 7 hours and choose one-day shipping.
Eligible for FREE Super Saver Shipping.

Buy books for holiday presents!

Miami Herald Article & Book Fair Reading

Check out Linda Bladholm's article about me in yesterday's Miami Herald: "A Writer Finds Poetry in Italian Cooking"

Article in the Dade issue is a full page color spread in Tropical Life section:
http://www.miamiherald.com/living/food/story/298641.html

Also two of my recipes ... with measurements, no less!

Rose Petal Pasta:
http://www.miamiherald.com/1017/story/298640.html

Pizza Rustica:
http://www.miamiherald.com/1017/story/298005.html

And to anyone reading this blog: you are cordially invited to hear Nina Romano read from Cooking Lessons at the:

Miami Book Fair
Sunday, Nov 11th
at 10 am--Center Gallery
(Building 1, 3rd Floor Room 1365)

Leonard Nash will read with me from his wonderful short story collection,

You Can't Get There From Here

Don't miss it!

Congrats to Marie Lovas on her acceptance and scholarship to the Palm Beach Poetry Festival 2008!!! Marie will be in a seminar with Major Jackson.

It's Fall and my mind truns to frying ...

November 4, 2007

It’s Fall; just after Halloween, All Saints, All Souls, and my mind turns to frying …

Halloween is the Eve of All Saints, which is when all the dead are venerated. This is followed by All Souls Day. All Souls is the official Day of the Dead in Mexico, but the holiday is celebrated actually between October 31st to November 2nd by cleaning off the graves and having a party—bringing flowers and garlands of marigolds, food, and drink. I find this very interesting—a celebration of life, the continuance of life after death.

It’s much the same in Italy, when people go the cemetery to bring flowers to their departed loved ones. So I used the idea for a scene in my first novel, Lemon Blossoms, at the cemetery of Carini, Sicily, when the main character, Angelica, goes with her mother, Rosalia, to clean off the graves and bring flowers and the mother tells the daughter one of the family stories.

Speaking of things Italian, we went to see a wonderful Italian movie Manuale d'amore 2, directed by Giovanni Veronesi, with stars Carlo Verdone and Monica Bellucci—episodes and all very good.

Now here are two recipes for: caponata and eggplant parmigiana

But first … a huge pot of tomato sauce.

Tomato Sauce (the following is for 3.5 lbs—so double it if you are going to make both of the recipes below: caponata and eggplant parmigiana!)

5 tablespoons olive oil
5 whole garlic cloves
1 cup finely chopped onions
2 (28-ounce) (800-g) cans peeled Italian tomatoes
a bunch of fresh basil leaves
at least a teaspoon a salt—but taste
(My measurement is a tiny little dish full of salt which I just sprinkle on top—my hand knows how much and when to stop—that’s because it’s a second generation Italian hand and has been making this since I was 11 years old).

COOKING HINT:
Use Italian tomatoes because they're sweeter, contain less water—especially if they’re San Marzano! The best of the best! If you have to use American tomatoes, double the amount of chopped onions and add more olive oil, but I could be lying because I really don’t know and have never used American tomatoes! This is a plain lightly salted sauce, which can be used to finish other sauces, say for instance one that takes olives, capers and oregano … or fresh tuna, which I made the other night with anchovies, parsley, and pine nuts. Get it?

If you want to use this sauce for pasta. You’ll probably need to add 1/4 teaspoon of salt for each 2 cups, according to your taste.

Pour the olive oil into a huge saucepan (I used heavy aluminum when I cook on electric—and terracotta if I cook on gas. I use a “spaccafiamme” a flame splitter—basically a round wire-mesh screen that the flame passes through but allows it to burn more evenly and hit the bottom of your part!

Set on medium-high heat and cook the garlic and onion for 3-5 minutes—before it turns gold. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook until the onions are soft but never brown, (I used to do this in my early cooking days—but too often I resented seeing the little brown bits floating in my sauce and ruining the presentation! Less than 9 minutes, stirring occasionally—I toss in white wine—usually ½ to 1 glass.

While the onions are cooking, put the tomatoes and their juices in a food processor or blender and process until smooth. However, I don’t do this—instead I use a whipper-upper that Braun makes, and I blend the tomatoes right in the can after I’ve removed most of the juice, by pouring it into the onions! Add this tomato purée—to the onion mixture, raise the heat to high and bring to almost a boil for 5 minutes. Reduce heat, add the basil and simmer for ½ half hr. stirring occasionally.

Fall frying …

And what better thing than eggplants! Here are two dishes to occupy you for a rainy day such as these two below: caponata and melanzana alla parmigiana (eggplant parmigiana)

Caponata ingredients:
Olive oil
Unpeeled Eggplant
Onions
Celery
Tomato sauce
Pitted black olives
Green olives with pimento (or without, but pitless!)
Raisins
Pine nuts
Parsley
Salt
Pepper
Garlic

For the Caponata: here’s what you do …

Make a large pot of tomato sauce—usually I do 6-7 lbs at least if I’m doing both of these dishes on the same day.

In Extra virgin olive oil fry: cut up chunks of eggplant, garlic, onions, hot pepper (if desired) celery, then add sugar, balsamic vinegar and wine--red or white. Let that burn off and then throw in tomato sauce, basil and lots of pitted black olives, green olives, raisins, pine nuts and capers.

Chill (best when left at least a day in the fridge) and then serve cold or at room temperature as antipasto--with crackers or thin sliced pieces of Italian bread. (Delish on bruschetta too!) This stays in the fridge at least 10 days to two weeks due to the preservative properties of the vinegar.

*

Eggplant Parmigiana:

Have on hand, a fresh sliced mozzarella—remember if you use buffala, it kicks out a lot of water…so squeeze some out in paper towels. And also about 4-6 cups of shredded mozzarella—anyone will do (Sargento, etc.). And about 3-4 cups of fresh grated parmigiano or you can use ½ shredded and ½ grated.

Wash and dry three large eggplants. I don't peel them. Slice them fairly thin lengthways and dip into flour—you may want to do an egg dip with a batter made from breadcrumb—I sometimes do this, depending on time constraints.

In a very large and deep heavy skillet, fry these in a mix of corn oil and a olive oil (3 to 1 ratio) Fry the pieces and set aside. If the oil gets funky and glunky—toss out and wipe down—do not the pan. Replace with fresh oil. When done, toss out the oil and begin with zucchini if you like the mix. I do it many times this way, because if the eggplant tends to be bitter, the zucchini sweetens the batch.

For this much eggplant I use about the same or perhaps one more large zucchini: washed, dried, sliced long. No dipping of this baby and don’t cut them too thin or they will fall apart.
Fry on high heat. Set aside.

Use a large squarish baker—rectangular Pyrex, or a deep Teflon baker, whatever you like.
Start to layer your goodies. First some sauce to cover the bottom, then the eggplant. A layer of mozzarella , then a healthy sprinkling of grated cheese to cover and then more sauce, then zucchini, etc. Fill to the top in alternating layers and cover with sauce and the rest of the cheeses. Bake in a hot over for 45 minutes. 10 minutes at 400 degrees, and then lower to 375 degrees to finish the baking.

Yes, if you’re in a hurry, you may cheat and cook it in the microwave … it’ll do in a pinch. About halfway through the cooking, you may have to throw out some of the liquid. Do not ask me how long—probably 20 minutes total. But the best eggplant is made the day before. I haven’t a clue why, but the resting in between the baking and the eating does something magical to the dish to enhance the flavors. This doesn’t mean you can’t eat it on the day you make it—just allow a good “resting” time—two hours at least.

By the way, both these veggies made on the grill are excellent to use for the parmigiana and leaner fare for the fat conscious! Sorry, folks, they don’t work for the caponata.

Back from Mexico …

October 21, 2007

Back from maravilloso Mexico, and it was indeed a very lovely trip. We were in several places: Guadalajara, where we ate posole (made of tomatillo and fresh corn) at our friend Lourdes' home. WE stayed at the lovely quinta Real hotel and lacked for nothing!

We were escorted to Tequila to visit Orendain Distillery with the owner's son, Andres Orendain, our chauffeur and guide! And where we tasted their 55 proof Tequila served in a ram’s horn! (This was before lunch on a covered terrace overlook of the surrounding hills and mountains. (A Tequila recipe will follow this rant.)

Next we flew to Culiacan for a firecracker, candle, and Mariachi/disco blow-out wedding, where we danced toward dawn.

The next day we drove to the shore at Xicotencatl ( I think) for a day on the beach of other friends' compound, complete with huge thatch-covered patios with hammocks! And where we were fed like kings on fresh caught shrimp and fish. For desert on the drive back to Cuilican we ate homemade pan de mujer filled with pumpkin jam.

In Matzatlan for half a day, we had a seafood lunch by the shore with fresh fried whole red snapper before we caught the plane to Mexico City. The lunch was fun and delish accompanied by Margaritas for the ladies and beer for the guys—some mixing their cerveza with lime and salt. Is that any way to ruin a cold bottle of Corona, Tecate, or Pacifico! No comment because there’s just no accounting for tastes! It’s called cerveza preparada, a term to forget which means, prepared beer, or what the Brits call shandy.

Here’s a quick recipe for shrimp from the lunch appetizer—a type of salad served on top of a toasted taco in the middle of a huge oval platter surrounded by oysters, octopus, scallops and fresh humongous shrimp—boiled whole. The shrimp salad appetizer is this:

One pound of pounded shrimp, ½ cup minced onion, hot as hell pepper—not sissy jalpeño—use chipolte or habanera and enough of it to bring tears to your eyes if you have the guts! and 8 ounces of Philadelphia cream cheese at room temp. Salt to taste. Mix together and pop onto a huge crisp baked or fried tamale … now dig in using corn chips, tortillas!

Off to Mexico City! Ole’! We stayed at a friend’s apartment in the Lomas de Chapultepec, and as luck would have it, he was out of town so he sent his chauffeur to pick us up at the airport and drive us all around town. What a hardship!

Ciudad de Mexico for only a few days is a shame, but it was long enough for us to take a city tour and to see the famous Virgin de Guadalupe one day and the next a drive out of town to visit the museum and pyramids at Teotihuacan. Incredible! After feasting with our eyes we feasted on lunch at the famous Hacienda de los Morales. Exquisite dining—pate de fois gras for starters, followed by a soup of fresh zucchini flowers, or flor de calabasa with a light pie crust topping. Felipe ordered a vino tinto from Ribeia del Duero (Spain). Each sip was a quick trip to Elysium.

My friend Linda lived near the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in New Mexico before having a farewell party and departing for the al di là, and this is a tribute to her fine cooking and taste. Quantities are up to the chef! You may use mushrooms with the onions for this Tequila cebolla amargo y dulce (sour and sweet) dish.

Here’s a recipe for Tequila onions:
a heavy skillet
some unsalted butter and Extra Virgin Olive Oil (Please don’t bust chops for amounts! Use your eyes! that’s why God gave them to you. Judge by the quantity of vegetables you will use.)
sliced sweet onions, or whole small ones, a few cloves of garlic if desired (whole and then remove)
small whole button mushrooms (washed and dried), or improvise with larger ones and slice them!
a tablespoon of sugar—those on diets, Splenda will work, or a bit of natural Stivia for you organic-conscious eaters (called Ka’a He’e, pronounced ka-ay-hey-ay in the Guarani language of Paraguay),
a splash of red wine or balsamic vinegar (I must confess that I’ve used other vinegars, such as white or apple cider, and the result is fine)
salt, pepper to taste
(may garnish with cilantro, or parsley, and may make without the mushrooms!)

High heat. Fry the onions and mushrooms (garlic) until golden, and season with salt and pepper—I use hot as Hades peperoncino because I’m married to a fiery Cuban-Italian! So feel free to use hot pepper if desired. Remove the garlic cloves. Add the sugar and stir around still it starts to caramelize. Then add a splash of vinegar. When all the ingredients are coated with the vinegar and it’s blended with the sugar into a mélange of sticky goodness, add as much Tequila (of course the good brand you’re drinking) as it takes (be generous, it’s your body, a true temple, you’re feeding) and reduce it over a low to moderate heat! This is a lovely medley and side dish to compliment any autumn dinner: meat, fowl or fish. Garnished with curly parsley or not.

Folks, if you notice any spelling or punctuation errors ... adjust and fix them in your brains, and let me off the hook or these blogs will never get posted! Thanks! and for you speakers of the language in which to address God, por favor forgive any mistakes.

If anyone wants the recipe for posole, write me. That doesn't mean I'll give it to you, but write anyway.

Interview with Linda Bladholm

October 8th

Saturday I was interviewed at the Gourmet Diner, (if you've never been, do yourself a favor and GO! SOON! More on the diner in another blog) located in North Miami by Linda Bladholm. Linda is a una bella intervistatrice! a food maven, author or several cook books on Asian, Indian and Caribbean food, and a journalist for the food column, A Fork on the Road, for the Miami Herald.

For those of you who have been telling me for years, you’ll be happy to know, folks, that she also encouraged me to give more measurements for ingredients! Oy vey! This is like saying I have to study trigonometry and calculus when I can barely spell them. AND she suggested I should write a cook book. Boy, does this ever resonate, or what?

Here below is one of Linda’s lovely recipes that I think will pair nicely with my Colors of the Fall Soup recipe of yesterday. Even the name for Sweet Potato Muffins sounds puffy and delectable. So below please find the recipe, which I find amazing--can you guess why? Because it has all the measurements for the ingredients. There should be a writing prize for someone who can do this. I’m not kidding.

So here's a public thank you to Linda for her spontaneity, and for making the interview quite painless, in fact downright fun!!! Her proposed ideas of how I can go about writing a cookbook were intriguing, piquing my interest, my noggin bursting with new flavor combinations and concoctions! You'll see the result of this soon on future blogs. However, she made a strong argument for the fact that I should buy these books before I do, and you'll see why by the titles listed below.

The Recipe Writers Handbook Revised and Updated by Barbara Gibbs Ostmann and Jane L. Baker

Recipes into Type: A Handbook for Cookbook Writers and Editors by Joan Whitman and Dolores Simon

The Chef's Companion: A Concise Dictionary of Culinary Terms (Culinary Arts)
by Elizabeth Riley




From Linda Bladholm's Fork on the Road
QUICK BREAD
SWEET POTATO MUFFINS
Serve as dessert with vanilla or pistachio ice cream, if you wish.
• 1 ¼ cups sugar
• 1 ¼ cups cooked, skinned and mashed sweet potatoes
• ½ cup (1 stick) butter, at room temperature
• 2 large eggs, at room temperature
• 1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• ¼ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
• ¼ teaspoon salt
• 1 cup milk
• ½ cup chopped raisins
• ¼ cup chopped walnuts or pecans
• 2 tablespoons sugar mixed with ¼ teaspoon cinnamon
Place paper liners in 24 muffin cups. Heat the oven to 400 degrees.
Beat sugar, sweet potatoes and butter until smooth. Add the eggs and blend well.
Sift the flour with the baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt. Add dry ingredients to the sweet potato mixture alternately with the milk, stirring just to blend. Avoid over-mixing. Fold in the raisins and nuts.
Spoon batter into prepared pans and sprinkle with the cinnamon sugar. Bake 25 to 30 minutes, until the muffins test done. Makes 24 muffins.
Source: Adapted from The Best of Bon Appetit (Knapp, 1979).
Per muffin: 155 calories (32 percent from fat), 5.5 g fat (3 g saturated, 1.5 g monounsaturated), 30 mg cholesterol, 2 g protein, 25 g carbohydrates, 1 g fiber, 153 mg sodium.

For Linda Bladholms’s books go here:
http://amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_gw/102-4037308-7205702?initialSearch=1&url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=linda+bladholm

Colors of the Fall Soup

October 7th
Colors of the Fall Soup

Here it is plain and simple:

Water, preferably wet and if you live in Florida, filtered
Salt and pepper (may be hot!)
Garlic cloves
Onions
Scallions
Leeks
Turnips
Sweet potato
Potato
Pumpkin
Zucchini
Fresh plum tomatoes or a can of Hunt’s
One orange cauliflower
One regular cauliflower
One broccolo (green cauliflower)
A generous dash of Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Carrots, if desired
Celery, if desired
Yellow squash, if desired
Parsnip, if desired
Corn, if desired, on or off the cob—if on, then cut into 2 inch pieces
Mushrooms, if desired
A splash of good white wine, if desired
Bouillon cubes, if desired

As copious amounts of water burble up in a humongous pot, start tossing in the harder cut-up, chopped up, sliced and diced veggies (there is no wrong way to do this, get over it and just do it.) The last autumn gifts to go into the pot are the 3 big heads of cauliflower—one will do nicely for less soup or less hearty eaters. About ten minutes will do, and then turn off the heat and cover. That’s it. Adjust for salt and pepper. Serve with brushcetta, smeared with garlic, sprinkled with salt and inundated with olive oil—of course, Extra Virgin First Cold Press. Have you ever been to a frantoio where they cull and crush the olives? Well then … you know.

If fresh tomatoes are used, skin them and mash, otherwise for you niftie-swifties, who don’t want to bother with that, use a can of Hunt’s tomato sauce--size depends on quantity soup. Oh and it goes without saying, the fresh veggies have been washed before you cook them.

When it comes to clams, the smaller the better ...

October 5, 2007

Unless you're making chowder, I'd say the smaller the better for any dish calling for clams. In Italy we used vongoli veraci about as big as a thumb, and they have little horns, so maybe they were cuckolds! but whatever they were, they were scrumptious and alive—discard any clam that’s partially open … ALWAYS! Sometimes we’d even use tellini about the size of a thumbnail. (May use cherrystones, if that's all you've got.)

So here's the new recipe I got from Barcelona—tasting it only and making it once. I’m sure if you hunt and peck around Google, you’ll find an official recipe somewhere.

Almejas a la Francesa.
Ingredients: clams, clam juice, white wine—(whatever you’re drinking! I used Pinot Grigio), onions, heavy cream, ground red pepper, paprika, garlic powder (if desired).

No babying here ... or molly-coddling. This is for people who know what they're doing with seafood. Stop reading now if this intimidates you. Two dishes—either with pasta or as a zuppa served with brushcetta (no tomatoes!) or fresh Italian bread. If you’re going to use this recipe as a sauce for pasta—put the salted water on to boil the minute you start to cook. If not, mox nix.

Clams. (Already soaked in cold water and rinsed several times.) Open them very quickly over high heat without water or oil. Quickly as in FASTER than FAST, and remove immediately from the heat. Set the sea-animals aside, and strain the juice. Rinse the pan if it’s sandy. Then add more clam juice if needed (store bought in a bottle) to the liquid the clams have already kicked out. Reduce, but not by half. I never salt clams and here's why: there's plenty in them already. Reserve the liquid.

Into the same huge and especially deep fry pan, I cook with Bialetti—simply because it’s the best, and has a glass cover (Hi-Base System, 12 in./ 30 cm)—place about ½ stick of unsalted butter (not margarine) and adjust if you need more or less, depending on the amount of clams. See what I mean about knowing what you’re doing? One huge sweet onion chopped coarsely. Less clams, less onion! When the onions are golden—fling in white wine—how much? Are you kidding?

Over a high flame, burn off the alcohol. Add the reserved clam liquid. Add heavy cream … that’s heavy whipping cream—no substitute will do. I use 8 fl. ounces (1/4 liter) of organic from Organic Valley—naturally you’re going to have to judge how much sauce you’re going to need if doing pasta, vero? (Use ½ a liter or more if you need it.) Thicken on high heat, stirring constantly. Toss in the clams and serve in pasta bowls for antipasto. Serves as many as you want, depending on the quantities you use. I’m not being a smarty pants here, this is a recipe for 2 or 20! (If it’s for 20, guess what? Use a bigger pot.)

For pasta use a huge serving dish—oval or round, ceramic or porcelain—pour in the pasta first and then cover and toss with the calm sauce. Linguine or spaghetti go nicely—or fresh fettuccine—but you’ll need more sauce for this pasta as it’s fresh and absorbs more sauce. One thing you never want is dried out fettuccine. You may sprinkle with ground red pepper and a dash of paprika for color—this dish doesn't takes parsley, which usually is a great with seafood—no garlic either—I use a hint of it (in the sauce when I add the clams, I sprinkle with granulated garlic or garlic powder—neither with salt!). If you’re a purist, then you should smoosh a garlic clove around the bottom and sides of the pot after you rinse it of sand and before you add the liquids. Throw out the smooshed clove, or chew it and save on garlic capsules, or give it to the dog.

And there you go! Buen provecho!

I assume no responsibility for the success or failure or this dish, nor for misspelled words or grammatical errors. I wrote this under duress—it was now or never. Felipe is on the Utah express heading home and I have to cook my new "Colors of the Fall Soup" (Recipe soon to make it's debutante appearance on this self-same blog. Weight Watchers, this one's for you!)

Happy Birthday, Felipe!

October 3rd

Just got back recently from our terrific European cruise and had over 200 e-mails to wade through.

On Sept. 22nd I was in Delray Beach for a meeting of the interns for the Palm Beach Poetry Festival to be held in Delray Beach, January 21-26, 2008. Mark it on your calendar I will be an intern and assistant to C. K. Williams in his seminar. He’s a brilliant poet, professor at Princeton University, winner of many awards, including the Pulitzer, and you name it! What a great line-up of poets, including my professor and mentor, Campbell McGrath.

On Sunday, September 23rd at Books & Books, Coral Gables, thanks to the kindness of owner/host, Mitch Kaplan, I read two poems from my debut collection, Cooking Lessons, with a host of other wonderful published writers from FIU's MFA program and also 2007 Graduates.

Back to the cruise ... my husband was a delight and should always be on vacation--he rested, walked, enjoyed tours, chatted with everyone, ate, drank and was merry, etc. The trip was super-duper great. How could it not be? We visited some interesting seacoast spots with incredible histories that we'd never been to in France, Portugal and Spain.

Before the cruise got underway, we were in London for two and a half days, and saw two shows--one comedy and one drama with Orlando Bloom, who really should stick to film! He did not have the best role, sorry to say. London, London!!! At its best. No rain, mild and balmy days. We walked all over Piccadilly and shopped in Marks & Spencer--me for cashmere sweaters (Otto ate my other ones from there!) FR for shirts and ties, and some Christmas gifts for Nico. We also got Nico a pair of Diesel jeans in Barcelona (he loves them--they're made in Italy) for his up-coming 28th birthday! How can that be possible? Especially because recently I had a dream that he was only turning three years old ...

We loved the sight-seeing in Belgium, France, Portugal and Spain. We went to Brouge and Ghent in Belgium and ate Belgian waffles and handmade chocolates from Chocolatier L. Van Hoorebeke!!! My choice was white, Felipe’s black—I wonder if, perhaps, that’s an indication of our souls??? In France we stopped at St. Malo, and found a lovely restaurant-brasserie "Noguette" at 9 Rue de la Fosse for moules. In La Rochelle we walked all over and ate like kings, dining on mussels, oysters, and crepes. In Portugal we visited many wonderful places--the shops were gorgeous--the clothes make our styles in the States look pathetic--they're so far ahead of us in couture. Lisbon is a huge city and with prices to match. In fact the Euro is killing the American dollar. We ate seafood galore!

In Spain we toured Cadiz, La Coruña, Malaga, Alicante and Barcelona--drank great red wines and ate delish fish, tapas, especially padrones--little fried green peppers topped with rock salt, (I make these home--but beside the green one, I use yellow, red and sometimes orange) and other goodies too numerous to mention! Needless to say, I'm going to the gym till I leave for Mexico! Must mention a little restaurant, El Dento, where I tasted and gleaned a new recipe for clams … almejas a la Francesa. I've already tired it out and made it once as an appetizer and once with pasta … yummy in the tummy! Recipe to follow … maybe even tomorrow. So tune in again soon to La Nina’s bloggerino.

A little note if you happen to be La Coruña—go to Mesón Augustin (It’s a Marisqueia—meaning, they serve mariscos, seafood.) This is also the wonderful stop that enriched my closet by one pair of exquisitely made shoes, a pair of “leather like butter” half boots for slacks, and one drop-dead–in-your-tracks leather shoulder bag. What can I say? Felipe’s wife has great taste. Obviously, I told him he can never retire. This was said not in jest—first of all because he’s got a mind like a trap, second because he has energy to toss away and would drive me nuts if he were home all the time—espeically when he hates to see me sitting at the computer. We currently share an office, affectionately known as the computer room--my computer, his room … (Reader, you do remember the title: A Room of one’s Own by Virginia Woolf—need I say more?)

Cut the crap-o! Eat cauliflower!

Cauliflower with anchovies ...

When I was about ten years old, my parents went on a vacation to Florida. I stayed with my Grandma who lived in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, on 85th Street between 11th and 12th Avenues. To be precise, St. Bernadette’s Parish with Monsignor Barilla as head honcho.

Okay, so that’s the very first time I ever remember seeing a huge white tight curly head of cauliflower. It was perched on my Grandma’s pristine white porcelain sink. Water sparkled on it like dew, tiny twinkling stars or what later in my life would be my favorite stones—diamonds.

Of course, curious little minx that I was, I asked my Nonna what that was—cavolfiore—and that night she made it for dinner tossed in fried garlic and seasonings and my favorite pasta, linguini! It just happened to be my grandmother’s favorite as well.

So the point here is that “peasant food,” as she called it, can be a sumptuous feast and feed many cheaply—well it used to be cheap, and it’s still less than steak. Since then, I have “toyed” around with cauliflower and prepared it many ways. So cut out the simpering whimpering and “I don’t like it, even if it’s good for me,” and try it like this …

Assemble these and then pretty much I’ll leave you to your own cooking devices.

1. Two very white and tight, clean heads of cauliflower—why two? Because that equals one the size my grandmother made all those many eons ago and works well for a pound of pasta, especially if you like to pile on the veggie, which I do. I hate to skimp on anything. This be must leftover from my mother, generous to a fault, who we used to tease and call, "Child of the Dpression."
2. Extra Virgin Olive Oil
3. Many cloves of garlic.
4. Hot pepperoncino (one or two!)
5. Oregano
6. Diced red skinned roasted peppers (I use fresh homemade, but you can cheat, if needs be and by it in a jar.)
7. A few capers
8. A tin of anchovies
9. Sliced or whole pitted black olives ( I used both)
10. 3 to 5 tablespoons of fresh tomato sauce (yes, here again, you cheaters, may use some other glop and hope for the best…)
11. Fresh basil leaves, preferably from your garden or window sill plants
12. chopped cilantro or parsley

Okay, for you non-adventurous ones:

Boil the cauliflower whole in salted water (I used sea salt or Kosher salt) until a long fork can piece the heart with ease. Retain water and add more to cook the linguini! Place the big pot of water on the stove and start to heat it, so that your pasta will be done when your sauce is.

In a huge fry pan—put an abundant amount of olive oil, lots of garlic and hot pepper—heat and when the garlic is golden, toss in the anchovies and cover quickly or got to the hospital with third degree burns from the skittering olive oil. Turn off the gas or remove from electric plate.

When this mix has stopped sputtering and doing its dance, raise the flame to high and fling in at least half a glass of whatever great wine you’re drinking to prepare this dish! Mine happened to be Cavit Pinot Grigio—a nice little inexpensive summer wine—never in my house will you find Santa Margherita, which is over-priced, and that vineyard cannot possibly produce enough grape to sell as many bottles of the stuff that it does … sorry, folks, if I’ve disillusioned you. Give it as a gift. You can substitute the wine I used for a Sauvignon Blanc, a Chardonnay, or even a robust red.

When the alcohol burns off, lower the heat and add all of the other ingredients and taste for salt—I never taste this—but I’ve been cooking since—anyway, adjust salt—remember, anchovies and olives and capers are salty …HINT, hint—you won’t need much, and you are going to add the cauliflower, which was cooked in slated water. Cook the sauce for a few minutes and then add the cauliflower—give it a whirl with your wooden spoon, and let simmer or turn off while you drain the pasta—tight—if you have a liquidy sauce, or loose, conversing some of the pasta water, in case you need to add some.

Serve piping hot garnished with chopped cilantro or parsley. Mangia bene! e Dio benedica tutte le nonne! Eat well, and God bless all grandmothers.

Oh for ya'll foodies who happen to be health conscious as well--

Food: Cauliflower, rawFood Group: Vegetables and Vegetable Products1VitaminsVitamin A(IU)13Vitamin A (microg retinol activity equivalents)1Vitamin B6 (mg)0.222Vitamin B12 (microg)0Folic Acid (microg)0Niacin (mg)0.526Riboflavin (mg)0.063Thiamin (mg)0.057 Vitamin C (mg)46.4 Vitamin E (mg)0.08 Vitamin K (mg)16 MineralsCalcium (mg)22Copper (mg)0.042 Iron (mg)0.44 Manganese (mg)0.156Magnesium (mg)15Phosphorus (mg)44Potassium (mg)303 Selenium (microg)0.6 Sodium (mg)30Zinc (mg)0.28 OtherProtein (g)1.98 Fibre (g)2.5Water (g)91.91 Carbohydrate (g)5.3 Energy (Kcal)25Lipids (fats) (g)0.1 Cholesterol (mg)0

No, ficiton writers, I did not invent this.

P. S. Please overlook any grammatical or syntactical errors, as I'm rushing to prepare, guess what?

How to Murder a Perfect Caprese Salad ...

Blog # 8
I was just preparing Insalata Caprese, when it dawned on me what most restaurants do wrong about serving this delectable platter (and I have to ask them to not do, when and if I order it, which is rare). Insalata Caprese was born on the Island of Capri, hence, Caprese … and it's a delightful summer salad. It is made of mozzarella di buffalo—yes, buffalo mozzarella and lots of fresh basil, salt, if desired, black course ground pepper, and Extra Virgin Olive Oil.

NEVER in Italy will you see this dish served with balsamic vinegar. I mean NEVER! Would you drink a glass of milk laced with vinegar or wine that has turned??? Of course not. Yet in so many restaurants in the States it is served with this wonderful vinegar, which ruins the dish! I say reserve the balsamic for where it should be used: in mixed green salads, in certain reductions with fresh tuna fish, etc.

Please tell me why, these nouveau chic cuisine chefs in US restaurants are trying to murder a sure close to perfect delicacy? Next thing you know, they'll probably pour it in yogurt (and kill the good bacteria in it!)

"Free" (first draft)

Free

Grounds for your garden, please help yourself,
the sign reads in a perky array of green fields and golden sun.

The sun and pastoral scene of the FREE ad
remind me of Otto’s play land, our backyard,

where free to roam, brave hunter dog, won’t dunk his tootsies
in the pool even on the hottest south Floridian day.

His favorite pastime, cavorting in the garden—
he knows is his domain; where he prances with squeak toy

or darts over the waylaid kayak, leaps midair
for a Wilson yellow tennis ball,

quite deflated by his super-duper canines.
He chases sassy squirrels, feisty opossums, gray doves,

transparent geckoes and emerald green iguanas diving off the dock,
but it’s a guarantee if Otto ever got a sniff of Starbucks’

leftover coffee grounds sprinkled in my wooden planters
to aerate the basil’s soil, or newly planted cilantro,

he’d most likely yelp like mad, an invitation to the new neighbor’s dog
for a quick cup of bold java, hoping I’ll lace it with Sambuca.

Flash Forward: he’ll twitch his nose, send fierce telegraphic barks across
the other fence for Mister Riley, the party colored pup next door.

This translates to Riley’s owner popping over for a look see
at the party. The equation now compounded …

I’ll have to serve the French fruit tarts set aside for tonight’s desert—
So as you can plainly see, and surely must agree,

I should insist you take down that sign, for nothing’s free
about those grounds now is there, Starbucks?

The Barron & McCourt Connection

Blog #7

Sandra Rodriguez Barron, author of The Heiress of Water, wrote me an e-mail today that I asked if I could share with the world at large on my blog—and Sandy wrote back one word: Sure. So here’s a fun little story by a lovely writer:

"I 'opened' for Frank McCourt (kind of like a local band opening for The Rolling Stones!) at a small independent bookstore (Burgundy Books in East Haddam Village) this weekend here in Connecticut. I did a reading just before his, and got to siphon some of his early arrivals—call it my “outreach” to the Irish community. Anyway, I had met him ten years ago when I volunteered to drive him from MIA to the host hotel when he was promoting Angela’s Ashes at the Miami Book Fair. It was fun to tell him that we already knew each other, and he teased me by insisting that he remembered me because we had gotten lost (not true).

"As a reminder that anything can happen at book signings (even to Pulitzer Prize winners) someone fainted dead away in the middle of his speech! (She was okay; I guess it was the heat). The commotion broke his rhythm, though, and the whole thing fizzled after that, which was too bad.

"One of the (many) funny things he did manage to say before the drama was that students often say to him, 'You’re lucky you had a miserable childhood, Mr. McCourt. At least you have something to write about!'

"Hmmm. I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

Thanks, Sandy! For more on Sandy, check the Links page on my website.

And so, of all things what could this little e-mail possibly prompt me to think about? You got it— ashes. What are ashes used for in cooking? Not pots above fires and ashes, but for the actual cooking process. I came up with only the fact that ashes are needed in the process of making lye. Lye is a derived from water running through ashes a few times, and it’s used in the preparation before cooking corn! Place dry ears of corn with the skins in the water for a day or two—keep turning them every once in a while. When the corn is swelled enough to break the skins, the skins come off, and also the tiny tips fall off, then thoroughly wash the corn, and cook it till it’s tender to the bite—shouldn’t take long because of the soaking stage beforehand. Slather corny cobs with butter and salt and pig out.

Today, instead of making a lye wash, people generally cheat and use bicarbonate of soda to “tenderize” the corn.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

More on octopus

When my son Nico was little—about eight years old, we packed him and my two nephews, Marco, the same age, and Stefano, two years older, off to British Virgin Islands for a sailing trip the week after Christmas into the New Year. We hired a burly Captain with a beard and a limp, who smoked cheroots--perfect. We would dock in different places and I usually cooked on board.

One beautiful and bright shiny day we sailed into a cozy port, and I finished whatever story I was telling the boys, because one or the other of the three of them would remind me of where I left off the day before. This was obviously an on-going sea saga that would often take my mind into old west, and the sea-faring Sinbad-type-sailor main character would then saddle up a horse, tie on his six-guns, and ride into a town with a saloon. He would then become embroiled in a fight at the bar and later a duel with pistols alla “high noon.”

However, I digress, so while I started dinner this particular day, the boys made a friend of a young lad, who was fishing in the clear, clean, transparent water on the far side of the dock near some shops. I came out of the galley and took a walk to see what they were up to. The young fisher-fella was dangling something on the end of his bamboo pole. It was a delightful little octopus, weighing about 1/2 kilo (approximately one pound). I asked what the fisherman was going to do with it and he shrugged and said he might throw him back. I bargained with him and for the price of one American greenback, I purchased the live, lively, squiggling mollusca. The fish-monger chose not to join us, but my curious boys watched as I put the creature into several plastic bags and dashed him repeatedly against a huge rock. Then I cleaned and cooked him (as explained in the previous blog!) with an audience of three in attendance—it was their first bounty-of-the-sea-to-table experience—and that evening, we dined on the freshest possible chilled octopus salad. I have never seen boys so ravenous and wanting to taste!

For the faint of heart, you can buy already cooked octopus in the fish department of Whole Foods--at about 17 times what I paid for it, but very worth it. You're welcome for the plug, Whole Foods Market.

And today's dinner is ...

One thing for sure this has to be quick because I'm a dasher today! So here's what I'm making my friends who are visiting from St. Louis and famous or infamous Dupo, Ill. from St. Louis here visiting and they're coming to dinner. I'm making patrones--little sweet Spanish fried peppers (we have them in tapas bars in Barcelona, eggplant croquetas, salad, spinach and broccoli medley with garlic, oil and hot pepper! and an American meatloaf--but Italian style--go figure. I'm considering an offering of potatoes also ...

Oh and something I wanted to mention yesterday in response to my friend Elaine's e-mail, but never got around to-she wrote saying that her granddaughter and the whole gang--of 13 and 4 dogs and a partridge in a pear tree, are hanging out at her summer digs ... Granddaughter Zia tried to make octopus for her Iraqi boyfriend, whom E. refers to as "the terrorist," because he misses food and dishes from his homeland ... Anyway, part of the slippery beast got away from her and landed behind --well, why don't I just quote directly from Elaine? A warning to everyone: Watch out! because from now on what you write me on an e-mail may show up in the Land of Blogoshpere ... mine in particular!

Here's her quote with my response below it--a true baring of the soul.

"We discovered (I think) that it wasn't a mouse (stinking up the house)--it was part of a whole octopus that Zia prepared for her boyfriend, Karim, the terrorist from Iraq. She cooked for him all day and prepared the dishes he misses from home. Part of a whole octopus evidently got away from her and landed behind the small freezer."

Does Zia know how to prepare octopus? If it's freshly caught you must beat it against a rock. Over the years, I feel like I've done this before--sent you a recipe for something in the summertime .... Tell Zia not to overcook it or it toughens. Clean the head and take eyes out of it. After washing--boil water with a splash of red vinegar in it. Then holding it by the head let the tentacles into the boiling water--they will curl. Do this three or four times (you want them to curl), then let the whole octopus fall into the water. Reduce heat immediately to a simmer. Cook without a top for only 20 minutes--unless you want it tough for some crazy reason. Then when the time has expired, leave the octopus in the water until it is cool. Then cut up the tentacles into bite sized pieces and slice the head thin. Add to an already cooked tomato sauce for pasta, rice or couscous. Or make into a salad, using lots of lemons or limes, parsley, good olive oil, salt, lots of sliced garlic cloves, black olives ( I pit them), carrots and celery--hot pepper if desired--and refrigerate.

More on octopus to follow ...

A wonderful writer friend's new blog ... remembrances of China

In Guo Liang's new blog: The People's Commune of Art, Writers of the World Unite for a Narrative Way of Life, there are pictures and remembrances of one writer's humble beginnings. I met Liang at FIU in Grad School when we were both seeking an MFA in Creative Writing. He is a poet with a deep soul and a very passionate writer. I hope whoever reads this can get into his blog,which is: http://cogonsand.blogspot.com/ , but I think it's opened to invited readers only--I wrote to Liang, hoping he'll open it up to everyone.

Here's a peek at his writing though:"Cogonsand is my translation of a southern Chinese village where I used to teach dozens of kids at a local school over two decades ago. The name itself, a mixture of cogon (a perennial grass used for thatching)and sand (river beach), often recalls to mind years of my bewilderment as I tried to flee the village for a larger world. It is at the end of the road from the nearby town, and the beginning of an unknown fate that expressed itself in innocence and loss. I ate in a communal dining hall and stood behind the school kitchen wall, taking my winter bath from the water heated by a giant wrought iron wok.

"Summer evenings, I strolled the riverbank, reciting Shakespeare's sonnets, and as night deepened, I sat in my tiny room by a kerosene lamp and studied French and English. The air was always muggy, redolent of a medieval sentiment. When I went back years ago for a visit, Cogonsand remains the same except for a few new buildings whose chrome glass decor contrasts with the old shabby houses. Today, I still turn to my Cogonsand years for my small-town Chinese tales."

Thanks, Liang!

Of course when I have time, I'll have to study some of the pictures he posted and try to describe them and stick them in the revision of my novel set in China! I read a 60 page memoir piece he wrote when he came back form a recent trip to china, and it was as if my eyes got to see some of the sights as well.

So now while my head and heart are still in China, here's a recipe poem from my poetry collection, Cooking Lessons:

CHRYSANTHEMUM FIRE POT

In a red room with nine golden dragons,
we sit at a low green table.
At its center a copper bowl,
flame beneath its belly.
In shark broth,
floats one white chrysanthemum.
One-thousand year-old eggs
wobble on a plate near serving dishes
of prawns, carp, duck, spinach,
pig, squid, dried bean vermicelli.

Our Chinese cook shreds the flower—
its petals filament,
falling feathers from angels’ wings,
into bubbling consommé,
One by one, he selects a morsel
to immerse and poach in the broth,
then dips it into frothy eggs and sauce.

Lastly we sup bean threads,
flavored by the rich soup,
this dense dollop on a spoon
lifted to our mouths,
mouths savoring the essence
of the predator of the sea,
graced and spangled chrysanthemum.
We gnaw the ocean’s chiliad gifts,
never again to thirst or hunger,
tasting a thousand years—
love and loss.

Peppers and Eggs

Blog #3
My Grandma’s PEPPERS AND EGGS … a meatless Friday night dinner when I was growing up, or a Friday night get you out of the doldrums kinda recipe. Now all you mystery writers can take that titillating hint why we didn't eat meat on Friday and use it as a clue for a short story.

Grab hold of a big fry pan and pour in some Extra Virgin Olive Oil.
Fry a bunch of potatoes, set aside. Fry a bunch of onions, set aside.
Fry at least 7 humongous yellow peppers and add the potatoes and onions break in 7-9 eggs salt, pepper, and swoosh it all around—you should see some egg whites, some yolks, and a whole lot of mixed up peppers, potatoes, and onions. There you have it.
But my Grandma made it with green peppers and no onions. Try it either way. And if you’re a pepper-lover, you can also go for a tri-colored dish, using red, yellow and green peppers.

For Jane

A picture of the mother of the vinegar!

Making Vinegar and Associated Memories

Blog # 2

Making Vinegar and Associated Memories

My husband is a wine collector. Therefore we have the remains of many a good red in the bottle ... whether they be super Tuscans or California cabernets or merlots, you can be sure they will make good vinegar. Here are a few, so that you see can see that I am a discerning wine-drinker and an old hand at making vinegar! Mostly Felipe collects, while I on the other hand suggest we should drink the scrumptious Italian wines that shimmer in the bottle like liquid fire, the juices of rubies and garnets, and tasting of raspberries and cherries. Sassicaia, Ornellaia, Lupicaia, Solaia, and some others: Tignanello, but that doesn’t stop him from reading what Zachy’s and Wine Spectator have to say about interesting wines, and we therefore get to taste many Spanish, Washingtonian, Australian, Californian, Oregonian, and French wines as well.

I add leftover wines to my vinegar—mine, not bought in a store, and then leave it for about ten days. I’ve always made vinegar since the time when I lived in Rome, Italy, for twenty years. We moved there in 1970 and didn’t move back to the States till 1990, and I’m still making it. In those days, we didn’t always use super Tuscans, but we always had good table wines—even the cheap-o variety were excellent—wines delivered by truck in demijohns that I’d pour out into two liter or liter bottles and top myself.

To make vinegar one must leave the dregs to make the “mother”—sometimes from a “store bought” vinegar the mother will appear in the bottle. Save it! What is this mother? A slimy, viscous glob leftover that vinegar manufactures naturally—it looks like a miniature placenta.

White wines can make delightful vinegars also. In San Felice Circeo, about an hour or so south of Rome where we summered, I always had handy a lovely white Trebbiano—especially nice and crisp in hot weather—that we used to buy by the demijohn from a local vinaio—it was so inexpensive, unsophisticated and unadulterated! I think we used to pay something like the equivalent of fifty cents a liter! We used to put our straw-covered demijohn beneath an oak barriche—barrel—at the local cantina and watch the wine spill in and fill! It was homemade and excellent—no sulfites, never a headache after sloshing down a great quantity of it! Anyway, once upon a summer day I took wine from the previous year that had “soured,” not being a vino nobile! but a local lovely variety, but the past year’s wine had not produced the mother. I thought that was perhaps because the percentage of alcohol was not high enough, but for whatever reason—I decided to make the mother. You can too.

Here’s how: I took one fat uncooked perciatello—a long fat spaghetto, many call buccatino—literally, a little hole—for that’s what this pasta has—a hole as its center. I placed it in an uncovered (or lightly covered with cheesecloth—something that “breathes”) two-liter bottle with some dregs of real vinegar—and my wonderful Trebbiano filled to about to the half mark. The pasta then disintegrates but not totally and forms the afterbirth-looking gobbet. Sometimes I’d forget to check it after ten days, and two weeks or longer would go by. Then after swimming at Torre Paola on a stifling hot day, I’d remove the bottle from the little mahogany cabinet I’d restored when my son Nico was two years old, the one with the mottled gray marble top we gave away, sorry to say, when we moved back to the States.

From the darkness emerged the beginning of a good vinegar, the mother, floating like a sailor’s safeguard from drowning—a caul purchased from a strega (witch) with magical powers, in this case, to produce more vinegar. To this I’d add the remains of whatever wine we drank. We sound like a bunch of alcoholics, but remember, this was Italy in the 70’s, and wine was and is served at every meal, except breakfast—except of course in ancient Roman times, when it was diluted with a little water from the aqueducts. There was always plenty of the nectar of the gods, namely Bacchus, left in every bottle on the table! What happens when you get too much? You give some away to friends and family members—always making sure some of the mother goes in the gifted bottle.

The fact that the vinegar—if well "mothered" goes on for years and years, continuing for generations, reminds us that being a mother, while bitter at times also ensures the continuity of life. Making vinegar has varied and symbolic levels, emerging into a poetic mix. Some recipes, it seems to me, are just crying out to be made into poems. Making vinegar’s a prime example—hope to write the poem one day—the recipe’s a rough draft.

Where do recipes come from & recipe for Eggs & Salmon

Blog 1
Where do recipes come from, and a recipe for Eggs and Salmon

If I don’t mess this up I’ll use these blogs to write some recipes, kitchen aids, stuff about cooking and meal preparation and the like. There will be slices of life, stories, vignettes, tableaux of my household and ideas and things saved from my collection of poems *Cooking Lessons.* They will also contain some commentary about love, life, writing, travel, the pursuit of happiness, and in general anything that comes into my noggin, that is, in my mind, worth noting.

Where do recipes come from? Grandmothers, mothers, aunts, sisters, friends, restaurants, boating captains, sons, brothers who used to be chefs, daughters in college, nephews, who watch TV cooking shows, newspapers and magazines, and even war movies. In other words, they abound all around us for the mere act of filching them! And as any fiction-writer worth his/her words will tell you, the art of stealing is the best tool a writer can have. And it therefore applies to the art of cooking.


Recipe for Eggs and Salmon

1 onion sliced
1 lb of Lox or any smoked salmon grossly cut in fat slices
1 large (actually overflowing like a fat belly over a tight belt) tablespoon of butter
7 to 9 eggs (calculate 2 a head, and 1 for the pot)
a slash of milk
No salt. The salmon takes care of it …
Fresh ground black pepper to taste


In a large fry pan—may use Teflon—flip in the butter (with a little wrist action for those of you who have an audience and like drama) and then the onion. Once they’re wilted, fling in the cut up salmon. Stir around a bit on a high flame till it warms and gets chummy with the onions. When this tu per tu is accomplished. Beat the eggs in a bowl and add the milk, and then pour this mixture in as a cold shower to dose the illicit fish and onion lovers. Smoosh around to the desired consistency. Sort of how you do scrambled eggs but with an addition—now this could be tricky: for instance my husband likes his eggs runny, hence, his portion comes out first. Keep cooking the rest, and keep serving—and the last person will get a very dry dish. Or do the intelligent thing, and turn off the gas, or remove from the electric plate! thus insuring, everyone gets less to moderately cooked eggs.

Serve with two slices of tomato garnished with small capers on each plate and a fresh loaf of Italian or French bread.

My Review of Skandia Fur (Black)

Originally submitted at Onlineshoes.com

There arent too many boots out there that let the world know you mean business. Tecnicas Skandia Fur is one of those boots. With a goat and bovine fur upper for years of comfort and durability, this stylish footwear puts you in the drivers seat. Make a scene with every step. Product features inc...

Skandia Fur (Black)Skandia Fur (Black)

A WOW of a boot--beautiful, practical

By Ninsthewriter from Pompano Beach , FL on 8/2/2007

 

5out of 5

Sizing: Feels true to size

Width: Feels true to width

Pros: Comfortable, Warm, Durable, Easy To Clean, Elegant with mink jeans, Cute, Stable

Cons: NONE whatsoever

Best Uses: Travel, Office, In out of snow, Going Out, Casual Wear, Formal Events

Describe Yourself: Comfort-oriented, Stylish, Smart savvy shopper

I've worn Tecnica boots for over 30 years. I lived in Italy for 20 years and only wore only these boots as après ski in the mountains--Val Gardena and Cortina d'Ampezzo (both ritzy and elegant ski resort surroundings), and I was smashing in these boots. I moved to the States 17 years ago and have worn Tecnica boots in Utah, Wyoming and Colorado winters--they are luxurious, warm, water-proof and drop-dead gorgeous! Need anything more than that? They look fantastic with a mink coat or with jeans.

(legalese)