12 posts tagged “cooking”
My husband is obsessed with Gordon Ramsay. I don't know why he has this sudden fascination, but it's bad. When we're out at a restaurant eating and the food is not 100%, he pipes up in the Ramsay voice, "You donkey! You could have killed someone!" or some such other witty quip. He even found a place in Boston that makes Beef Wellington because neither of us have ever had it (although the recipe is here and I can already seeing us attempting that in the future).
Here's the recipe:
- 4 cups mixed fruit such as berries; peeled and thinly sliced peaches (see cooks' note, below); and halved seedless grapes
- 2 3/4 teaspoons unflavored gelatin (from two 1/4-oz envelopes)
- 2 cups Prosecco (Italian sparkling white wine)
- 1/2 cup sugar
- 2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
- An Open Letter to George Lucas (Stop Raping My Childhood!)
- Cheese unlocks your wildest dreams
- Dear Rest of the World (this is hilarious!!)
- I want one of these!!!
- Error messages in Haiku form
- Nature's Gates of Hell (seeing as my mom thinks I'm going there I better get familiar, eh?)
- Elevator Moods
- Time for GINGER CAKE! The best cake recipe ever. I make it in a loaf pan and slice it up. Amazing with softened cream cheese.
I've been reading Michael Pollan's Ominvore's Dilemma and aside from a general desire to eat more healthfully, I have become very motivated to try and eat mostly organic and as local as possible. I really want to cut out as much processed foods as possible and search out meat that is truly pasture fed, not just the "free range" marketing ploy of industrial organic farms.
For me the meat is the bigger deal. I want to try and cut out most meat unless it's organic, grain-fed and pasture-raised if at all possible. We're looking into meat lots from Caledonia Farm in Barre, MA but we missed the last deadline so we're on a waiting list.
The farm lots for many of the farms in the area are long since out for the summer so we decided we'd try out Boston Organics, which delivers a weekly box of organic fruits and veggies. They try to get their food locally when possible but may get some fruits from California, Florida or tropical fruits from organic farms in South Amica. I mean let's face it...hard to grow bananas in New England. We're getting the $29 box 1/2 fruit and 1/2 vegetables.
This week's box will include:
1.5 lbs Bananas
1 Grapefruit
0.5 lbs Kiwis
2 Nectarines
3 Paula Red Apples*
2 Valencia Oranges
2 Yellow Peaches
1 Avocados
1 Cucumbers*
1 Green Bell Peppers (PA)
1 bunch Red Kale*
1 head Romaine/Leaf Lettuce*
0.75 lbs Summer Squash (yellow/green)*
2 ears of Supersweet Corn*
One of the best things about Boston Organics is that you can choose if you really don't want something in your box. So out of this box I won't be getting the peppers (just can't eat them without consequences) and the kale (blech!). They'll substitute with other fruits and veggies instead (hopefully more corn!). The asterisks mean the produce is local.
Sooo not only will we be getting our fruits and veggies, but we'll be cutting out pesticides and chemical fertilizers from the mix. I do wish that overall the box was more local (peaches are being harvested in MA, for example, and what about local blueberries?), but it's a step in the right direction. We've found organic foods and grass fed meats to be more flavorful as well. I'll let you know how it goes!
Show us a snippet of something you're writing.
Cena Apicius is a working title for a historical fiction novel about the life of Marcus Gavius Apicius, a wealthy Roman noble who lived in the early first century. Very little is known about him save for snippets of information left behind in works by Seneca, Tacitus, Pliny the Elder and others. He was famous for the lavish feasts he threw for his fellow Romans, and even for Emperor Tiberius. I became interested in the story when reading food memoirs and books about food history. As a big foodie myself, I found myself drawn to the strange story of Apicius, who could be considered the world’s first known gourmand. The oldest known cookbook was named after him.
Copyrighted, draft form, definitely has errors, subject to change, be cut, etc… Here is a Snippet:
In this section, set three years after Thrasius was purchased as a slave by Marcus Gavius Apicius, Thrasius takes Apicata, Apicius’ daughter to the market to
say goodbye to a friendly merchant. The family is readying for a move
from Baiae to a third villa in Rome. This was one of my bits where the characters took over.
Prokopton was a merchant who specialized in everything non-edible. Whatever you needed, he always seemed to have on hand or if not, would be able to readily procure. Over the last two years, Thrasius purchased cooking utensils, everyday pottery, silver serving platters and even furniture from Prokopton. Apicata loved the big bear of a man. He always had small toys or knick-knacks to share with Apicata, who he called “little bird.”
That day he gave Apicata her own tiny wind-up bird that walked, a gift that shocked Thrasius and also brought a tear to his eye. The merchant clearly held a soft-spot for the little girl–the bird was most likely quite costly. Due to their rareness, wind-ups were not for children–they were entertainment pieces meant for the adult table and could often sell for many thousand denarii.
“Prokopton, are you sure about that gift?”
The merchant nodded, his plump cheeks reddening a little. “It was my wife’s. I have no children to pass it on to. Please remind her of me when she grows. I will be sad not to see her every week.”
Thrasius left Apicata briefly with Prokopton as he went across the way to say his goodbyes to a few of the other merchants he frequented. The market was still coming to life and not all the wares were on display. Each stall in the large two-storied building was in a varied state of preparation. In the central atrium, a young slave girl sorted baskets of flowers into pretty arrangements. He said his goodbyes, some of them tearful on the part of the shopkeepers. He would miss the market of Baiae, busy and varied but not so big that he did not know most of the people who worked there. Rome would not be so comfortable.
On his return back to Prokopton’s stall, Thrasius found himself walking behind a small cluster of drunken nobles, not an unusual sight in Baiae in the summer. It was likely the three men and two women had been up all night in wine-infused orgiastic bliss, and were now looking to find an open popina to serve up breakfast.
His ears perked up when he realized that the tallest man was talking about Apicata. “Look at that sweet little girl,” he said, pointing down the street to where she sat on a bench playing with her bird. Prokopton busied himself stacking up bolts of silk on the shelves next to where she sat. “What I wouldn’t give to break that baby filly! She would tremble beneath me and learn to beg for more!” His friends immediately began laughing, one of them stumbling in his mirth, almost pulling one of the women to the ground. She helped him right himself and the group continued ambling their way toward Prokopton’s stall.
Thrasius wanted to beat the man to a pulp but as a slave, he knew that the consequences for him would be far greater than anything he could do to the noble. Relations with children were not uncommon but such effrontery toward a child of the nobility was beneath any refined Roman. Apicata was clearly not a slave child; her dress and style of hair easily marked her as a member of the upper-class. She was not to be used or given by anyone other than her father. If a slave had made such lecherous comments toward a child of the nobility, he could be put to death. This man wasn’t a slave, though, he was a noble and Thrasius knew that he had no means of recourse against the man.
Thrasius raced ahead to make sure he reached Apicata before the nobles. When he reached the stall, he swooped Apicata up. He took hold of a dark brown shawl that was on a nearby shelf and quickly wrapped Apicata up so that she could not be ogled, nor could she easily see what was happening. He shushed her worried questions and protests that he was crushing her bird.
He breathlessly told Prokopton what had been said. Prokopton, a free man, had far more leeway than he did when it came to protecting the honor of the little girl. Prokopton turned and addressed the group of drunkards, who just arrived stumbling and laughing. At first glance it seemed that the merchant was casually leaning with one hand against the handle of a well-worn axe but Thrasius knew Prokopton was ready to use it if need be.
“I think that it would be best for the lot of you to keep moving,” Prokopton growled.
The noble who first eyed Apicata had one arm draped across the shoulders of his female companion, a prostitute with a chipped tooth and a cockeyed black wig. The man’s green eyes were bleary red and one eyebrow raised as he broke out in a drunken grin when he responded to Prokopton. He was in his early twenties and his silk dining robe, called a synthesis, indicated he was a man of who had no small amount of money.
“We mean no harm, no harm,” he said, the scent of honey wine heavy on his breath. “Is that your lovely daughter? We were remarking on what a pretty little thing she is.”
“I bet you were. Any more remarks and you’ll be apologizing to Marcus Gavius Apicius yourself, on your knees begging for forgiveness for the lecherous insults you bestowed upon his child. You are not presenting your best face today, and I suggest you sober up and stop embarrassing yourself and the people around you.”
The man laughed long and hard, his dark hair blowing gently in the morning breeze as his head tilted back. “Apicius has a daughter! Well well, that’s as much of a surprise as if Juno turned me into a cow. That man owes me a favor and I think I just discovered how he can repay. You are right, it’s best that we be on our way. I will have to pay dear Marcus a visit soon!”
“He’s leaving for Rome. You missed your chance,” Thrasius lashed out, moving to stand in front of Apicata. Even he didn’t casually use Apicius’ praenomen of Marcus. Only Aelia and Popilla had the right to be so intimate. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so angry—angry enough to murder.
“Ahh even better. I’m from Rome! I can look for him at leisure when I return!” At that, he pulled his friends away, chuckling as he left Prokopton and Thrasius standing both bewildered and angry.
“Do you know who that was?” Thrasius asked Prokopton. He put Apicata back on the ground and hugged her tight. She pulled back the shawl and tried bombarding him with questions but he shushed her with a quick finger to her mouth.
Prokopton shook his head. “No, I’ve not seen him around here before. It is as he says, he must be visiting.” He turned to Thrasius then, coming close enough to talk quietly without the girl overhearing. Thrasius stood and Prokopton grasped his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “You must keep her safe. You must!”
Thrasius nodded, not sure how someone in his station could do much of anything save cook a good meal. “I will try, my friend. I promise.”
This was done back in 1966 and was the precursor to the Cookie Monster we know and love.
In researching Apicius, I've found that some of the books I'd like to have are quite expensive!
First
off, Pliny's Natural History, which I realize can be found online, but
there is something quite nice about having a book in front of you chock
full of bookmarks. Besides, this is proving to be one of the books that I will probably refer to often--being able to comb the Histories to find out information such as that cucumbers were Tiberius' most favorite food--that's priceless.
Well, no, it's $125. At 233 pages, that's $1.80 a page!!!! Ouch. I can buy the individual volumes but I don't see that happening any time soon considering that would be even more for all of them considering they run around $21 a piece for the Loeb Classical editions. I've dug around all over and just can't find a full volume for less.
I suppose that since these are very niche books and will only sell in smaller numbers that the publishers jack them up knowing that serious scholars will fork over the cash. I think I'll be sticking to the online Pliny, despite how much of a pain in the ass it is to go through hundreds of web pages with no easy search feature. But the Apicius one -- well, I'll probably buy it at some point over the course of the next year. I'm already feeling the pain of forking over so much $ for a cookbook...
in looking for crockpot recipes yesterday to cook up our bunny (mmm crockpot bunny was awesome) I ran across this little tidbit at cooks.com:
2 metric tons onions, chopped
3 cubic yards parsley, chopped
1 med. elephant, gray
6 barrels flour, sifted
1/2 pickup truck loaf salt
1 lg. rabbit
Wash elephant and pat dry. Rub with salt and let stand. Saute onions, stir in elephant, rabbit and remaining salt. Add water to top of kettle and simmer 2 weeks or until tender. Thicken with flour and remove from heat. Sprinkle in parsley and leave uncovered for 1 1/2 minutes. Serve immediately as elephant tends to get tough and rubbery when cold. Leave out rabbit if you don’t like hare in your soup.
We opted out of the elephant stew and just decided on the rabbit. Romeo, in particular, really loved the bunny. So much so that he even got into the garbage overnight to get at the bones, something that he never never never does. Thankfully he doesn't really have any teeth (maybe 8 left after we had a whole bunch of them yanked a few years back) so he probably just licked them and then went on his merry way. I wonder what he would think about elephant.
Here are this week's 365 photos....
Day 006: Joe cooked up some lamb with garlic and some other spices...
Day 008: This restored house from the Revolutionary era looked really beautiful in the brief bit of snow we had last Friday. I drive by this house every day on my way to work. It's on the Minuteman trail out in Concord...no, it's not inhabited.
It's misting out. A dreary, grey, annoying misty day. And as we often do on Sunday, we go shopping for the first few days of the upcoming week (we try to buy fresh so usually don't buy more than a couple of days ahead). We went over to Russo's this morning, which is always a madhouse but the prices are so good and the selection so varied that we always end up as part of the throng, pushing our way through all the little Japanese grandmothers, fathers with their kids hanging off the carts (which is ridiculous as the aisles are tiny and the people are too numerous) and the old ladies picking over the green beans.
For Day 03, I captured this pretty picture, a bright contrast to the gloom outside.
We also bought some steel cut oats so I could try out a slow cooker oatmeal recipe for one of these cold mornings. As we were unpacking the groceries, Joe asked me if I was a mare or a doe. I looked at him, baffled, assuming this was one of his other silly antics (he makes up songs about me...how I'm "sweet and kind, fill her up with melon rind" and the like). He explained that mares and does eat oats and lambs eat ivy, looking at me expectantly, as though I was just going to understand. Finally, after laughing at my exasperation, he explained that it was a childhood nursery rhyme and he was surprised I hadn't ever heard of it. Look it up, he told me.
So I did, and the song is actually called Mairzy Doats, written in 1943. From Wikipedia:
At first glance, the song's refrain, as written on the sheet music, seems to be meaningless:
- Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey
- A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?
- Yes! Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey
- A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?
However, the lyrics of the bridge provide a clue:
- If the words sound queer and funny to your ear, a little bit jumbled and jivey,
- Sing "Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy."
With this aid, the refrain is easily comprehended, and the ear will detect the hidden message of the final line: "A kid'll eat ivy too, wouldn't you?"
Who knew? Not me, apparently.
My Groups
-
Voxaholic Updated: 30 minutes ago
-
Social Media Group Updated: 40 minutes ago
-
Vox Banners Updated: 45 minutes ago
Neighborhood
Explore friends, family, friends & family, or entire neighborhood.
