Just a quick shout out to one of sophistimom’s new readers. I found her blog on Stumble Upon last summer, when one of her posts caught my eye and had me laughing hysterically. It’s called “Get Out Your Fat Pants. . . You Might Need Them,” and it gives the recipe for what looks almost like a grilled cheese sandwich, only it’s filled with roasted marshmallows and bananas and chocolate. Ahh! It’s. . . well—it’s so incredible there actually aren’t words for it. Go see for yourself, and read the whole post. You’ll laugh so hard.
Her blog is called Noble Pig (and did I mention she’s a riot?). A recent post you all need to look at is her matzo crusted salmon. It looks amazing, and in the morning I will be braving the snow storm to get the rest of the ingredients to make it for lunch.
The kids are on their second week of spring break (aaahhh!!), and they were watching so much TV that the cable box and DVD player froze up (I only TRY to be a good mom—never said I was one). So now they’re keeping themselves entertained by making up songs about Spongebob Squarepants and Star Wars.
Here’s a chicken tortilla soup I adapted to be vegetarian. It uses chipotles in adobo, which you can buy in a can in the Mexican food aisle. Any leftover chipotles can be frozen in an airtight container for up to a year.
Here’s just a quick book recommendation. Though I don’t own it yet (wish I did), I borrow it from my mom every time I visit her.
Susan Wise Bauer, who with her mom wrote The Well-Trained Mind, outlines a vast literary curriculum, and shows the reader how to interpret the material like a scholar. The Well-Educated Mind: A Guide to the Classical Education You Never Had is basically a manual for homeschooling yourself as an adult. If you follow most of the book’s guidelines, it can provide you with the equivalent of a master’s degree, minus the diploma.
I plan on one day actually finishing the book, along with all the reading. Then I will be at ease around snooty intellectuals and hold my own at stuffy art galleries and cocktail parties. I do dream big.
Sorry for being gone so long. We didn’t have the Internet for a few days.
I spent about a half an hour roaming around the produce section of Whole Foods the other day, trying to find the makings for an interesting salad. The first thing I saw was the edible flowers. I absolutely love how they look. Many edible flowers are quite peppery and pleasantly floral. However, the box I bought had some varieties I had never tried, and I knew some had the possibility of being bitter. If that were so, I didn’t want to add fruit to the salad, as I was afraid it might contrast too strongly against the bitter flowers and create some discordance. Instead I went with a more analogous flavor scheme. I chose vegetables ranging from peppery radishes, to nutty mâche, and finally to neutrally sweet jicama. I introduced some fruity tang later with the vinaigrette.
I thought this sounded dreamy. And I felt like a genius when I came up with putting brown sugar in the mix instead of white. It tastes very. . . toasty—a perfect complement to the roasted pineapple.
My friend Holli recommended this book to me ages ago. THANK YOU, HOLLI!
I can’t understand why I hadn’t heard about it until now, and wish I had read it as a child. It is absolutely lovely.
Written in the 1940s, The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge tells the story of Maria Merryweather who, after the death of her father, goes to live in a large manor house with her cousin, Sir Benjamin. While there, she learns how her family’s less-than perfect past has cast a shadow over the manor and the people in the surrounding village. With the help of animals and friends, Maria sets out on a quest to put it right.
The Little White Horse tugs on your heart, awakens dormant longings. You find yourself wishing such fairy tales were true.
Well, here’s the other recipe I made for that St. Patrick’s Day dinner. It has caraway seeds and raisins in it, which is the way all my friends’ moms made it when I was growing up. I have to say, though, that the caraway seeds are definitely not a favorite. So, by all means, leave them out, and the raisins, too, if you wish. Apparently, most Irish cookbooks don’t even use them to begin with. It’s just an American thing.
I made up this recipe (and tomorrow’s post as well) a while back for a little hole-in-the-wall magazine. Keep reading, and I’ll include the original text that went with the recipes (Never mind, I’ll edit what I wrote, then I’ll post it.).
While I have very little Irish blood, if any, I grew up in a town south of Boston, surrounded by Irish-American culture. I had friends with names like Sean McGonagle and Seamus McGillicuddy. At school assembles, I admired the O’Donovan girls when they performed Irish Step dance, wishing I had red hair and freckles and could dance like that. Though I have never been kissed for being Irish on St. Patrick’s Day, I can still appreciate a good Corned Beef and Cabbage dinner.