Good morning...here we are. It's about breakfast time and the kitchen is kind of taken apart. Don't know what we'll do about that.
Last night we solved the taken-apart kitchen by eating a dinner from the Jack in the Box. It was kind of heavy and still sitting in our tummies when we went to sleep.
I got up this morning and made a very petite petit-dejeuner of microwaved instant coffee and one piece of raisin toast.
Well, the day will unfold as it goes on...we'll see what happens with the cooking. We can dispense with lunch as my husband eats mostly deli items for lunch, and I eat from the refrigerator. But we have a prepared breakfast and a prepared dinner...gracious. For how many days? I guess I can zap Campbell's soup in the microwave. Better than Jack for sure.
Instead of reading, I have been watching, and engrossed in, The Barchester Chronicles by Anthony Trollope and presented by the BBC. I sort of saw it, back when, on our black and white television---but now, ordered out on DVD---wow, how beautiful it is. And the acting is wonderful. The Bishop is a perfect sissy, and his wife, as played by Geraldine MacEwan, is really scary. And very very funny.Alan Rickman is the personification of slimy evil... I love all the characters. I am still trying to figure out where I have known all the characters in the years hence, in other characterizations. Bertie Stanhope, for example. He is somebody I know very well in another incarnation, but who? I'll get it eventually. I have the book of The Barchester Chronicles, a little paperback with a great introduction and nice pen and ink illustrations. I have read AT it (thank you, Mother) but have never settled down to a serious reading. Anyway, it is a wonderful series and a great purchase for BBC-philes.
Well, with the kitchen in transition, I never even made a Twelfth Night cake after all, though when Patricia came to play piano on Wednesday she told me where I might find charms in San Diego (art store in Hillcrest where the stationery store used to be.) If I had had the kitchen in order, well, in its accustomed state of disorder, I would have made Lemon Bread-Cake. I got this recipe from the LA Times back in the day. Lemons, walnuts, sugar--it never fails to please. I pass on the recipe.
Lemon Bread-Cake
3/4 c. butter
2 c. sugar,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,Cream them
4 eggs, beaten in one at a time
1 c. milk
grated zest of one or two lemons depending on your taste
3 c. sifted flour
1 1/2 t. baking powder..............sift and add.
3/4 cup chopped walnuts.
The recipe says to put into greased bundt pan or 10 " tube. Bake at 350 degrees for 60 minutes. I have never used a bundt pan or tube, but used an old aluminum ring mold which makes a more compact slice. BUT HERE"S THE GOOD PART:
Mix the juice of one lemon and 1/2 cup sugar. While the cake is warm, pour this over the cake (in the pan) and allow it to cool before turning out. The lemony sugar syrup will be on the top, all over in fact. Decorate or serve plain. YUMMO.
YAZZYBEL
Friday, January 7, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Epiphany
Oh, dear. I had started a nice little exposition on the subject of Epiphany. Alas, I had a mini-epiphany as I wrote. My husband, flipping switches on the outside board in order to turn off the light over the stove top,revealed to us that the stove top light and the computer are on the sames switch--- and away went my blog, not to return. In that incarnation.
An epiphany celebrates a reality. The reality is that, if my blog is interrupted electrically, it will disappear not to return.
Rats! So now we know what an Epiphany is. Its original meaning was, an appearance. So, an appearance of whatever unexpected kind, that presents us with a reality. We are to contemplate it and reflect upon it.
The Magi were little considered in my Sunday School childhood, as far as I can remember. Joseph, Mary, the Baby Jesus, lambs, goats, burros, were all American (some might have been half-or-all-Mexican) but the Magi were foreign. Really foreign. And they were rich. They traveled, following a star. Little was made of their erudition, which must have been great. They had no Google maps, wikipedias, or web pages to help them make their conclusions. But nobody ever remarked on their educations...simply that they came, mysteriously, bearing gifts that nobody could precisely define. Gold, yes, that we all knew. I envisioned gold coins. But frankincense and myrrh remained a mystery to me for many years. And I feel sure they were a mystery to my Sunday School teachers and even to my own family, truth be told.
I cannot conclude with a recipe, but with this caution: beware a lapse in this Blog, as more electric failures ensue in the days to come as Taterton (my husband) works to remodel the kitchen. Oh dear. And this is not a recipe, but it is a prescription: Eat three prunes before you go to bed tonight. You will not be sorry. Dr. YAZZYBEL
An epiphany celebrates a reality. The reality is that, if my blog is interrupted electrically, it will disappear not to return.
Rats! So now we know what an Epiphany is. Its original meaning was, an appearance. So, an appearance of whatever unexpected kind, that presents us with a reality. We are to contemplate it and reflect upon it.
The Magi were little considered in my Sunday School childhood, as far as I can remember. Joseph, Mary, the Baby Jesus, lambs, goats, burros, were all American (some might have been half-or-all-Mexican) but the Magi were foreign. Really foreign. And they were rich. They traveled, following a star. Little was made of their erudition, which must have been great. They had no Google maps, wikipedias, or web pages to help them make their conclusions. But nobody ever remarked on their educations...simply that they came, mysteriously, bearing gifts that nobody could precisely define. Gold, yes, that we all knew. I envisioned gold coins. But frankincense and myrrh remained a mystery to me for many years. And I feel sure they were a mystery to my Sunday School teachers and even to my own family, truth be told.
I cannot conclude with a recipe, but with this caution: beware a lapse in this Blog, as more electric failures ensue in the days to come as Taterton (my husband) works to remodel the kitchen. Oh dear. And this is not a recipe, but it is a prescription: Eat three prunes before you go to bed tonight. You will not be sorry. Dr. YAZZYBEL
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Go out and look for charms!!!
Good morning!
I woke up full of cares and vague inquietudes this morning. I know the reason. I have about four or five scheduled obligations within the next two to three months. And that situation always makes me unquiet. Not admirable, but that's my nature.
The word today is: Tomorrow's Epiphany. A big, mysterious important Day, which we don't make enough of in our culture, in my opinion. It signifies the end of Christmas, but in a way it is a foreshadowing of the beginning of Christianity, the opening up of the Christ story to the big wide world. I was going to make a cake for Twelfth Night and give a slice to various friends, but I forgot to buy (look for) the charms that have to go into it. A bean, one bean, is sometimes used and the lucky winner gets to be the King or Queen and pick an honorary consort for the party... One could write fortunes on strips of paper, roll them up, wrap in wax paper, and insert into the dough...but I prefer the vagueness of charms. Let people take them as they will.
For the cake, I would make Fannie Farmer's Grandmother's Pound Cake. The proper cake is a baba type yeast-risen cake bread, but I would want something delicious and simple with the least anxiety attached to it (for the baker.) The Mexicans make Rosca de Reyes, which is a baba type yeast-risen cake bread. It is very good. The Mexicans make a great deal of Twelfth Night, and that is the night that the children receive their Christmas presents. It seems more appropriate, somehow, that the gifts come from the three Reyes Magos (Magi), than from Santy and a store filled by elves. However, I love fairies and elves and Santa Claus too, so let the bon temps roulez, however the means. My grandchildren live far away, so I have never been able to have them over for Twelfth Night, but how nice it would be for them--to get presents twice. Plus a slice of cake and some cocoa. And, perhaps, a portent--a charm!!! YAZZYBEL
I woke up full of cares and vague inquietudes this morning. I know the reason. I have about four or five scheduled obligations within the next two to three months. And that situation always makes me unquiet. Not admirable, but that's my nature.
The word today is: Tomorrow's Epiphany. A big, mysterious important Day, which we don't make enough of in our culture, in my opinion. It signifies the end of Christmas, but in a way it is a foreshadowing of the beginning of Christianity, the opening up of the Christ story to the big wide world. I was going to make a cake for Twelfth Night and give a slice to various friends, but I forgot to buy (look for) the charms that have to go into it. A bean, one bean, is sometimes used and the lucky winner gets to be the King or Queen and pick an honorary consort for the party... One could write fortunes on strips of paper, roll them up, wrap in wax paper, and insert into the dough...but I prefer the vagueness of charms. Let people take them as they will.
For the cake, I would make Fannie Farmer's Grandmother's Pound Cake. The proper cake is a baba type yeast-risen cake bread, but I would want something delicious and simple with the least anxiety attached to it (for the baker.) The Mexicans make Rosca de Reyes, which is a baba type yeast-risen cake bread. It is very good. The Mexicans make a great deal of Twelfth Night, and that is the night that the children receive their Christmas presents. It seems more appropriate, somehow, that the gifts come from the three Reyes Magos (Magi), than from Santy and a store filled by elves. However, I love fairies and elves and Santa Claus too, so let the bon temps roulez, however the means. My grandchildren live far away, so I have never been able to have them over for Twelfth Night, but how nice it would be for them--to get presents twice. Plus a slice of cake and some cocoa. And, perhaps, a portent--a charm!!! YAZZYBEL
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Tuesday, January 4th, already?
Good morning! I am always surprised to see that the days rush past us after New Year's Day. I seem to have entered some limbo, expecting some hiatus suspended in time--and I get surprised by what's happening to time.
I think I have the reason for the expectation of time suspended for a bit.
When I went to first grade, Miss Johnnie wrote out the months of the year on the top of the blackboard, all around the room. January and February were written in white chalk , denoting Winter. Then followed across the front, March, April and May, in pink and denoting Spring. Then the board turned the corner and entered Summer, with June, July and August in sky-blue occupying the full space of that board. Then there was the door, through which I sometimes saw my own mother passing by on business of her own and not thinking of me, which caused me much grievance of heart. After the door there was still a short board on that wall, with September, October and November limned out in yellow. A corner was turned again, and all by itself on a small board at the back of the room was December, in red chalk so rich and dark that one could hardly see it even with six-year-old eyes. When the corner turned again, the year had ended and we had entered upon a great wall of windows which opened onto the beauties of the Lower Rio Grande Valley of South Texas: palm trees, birds,breezes. sun, rain, wind, dust. I think it's the wall of windows that sends me into limbo at the New Year. I keep anticipating that time of daydreaming that carried me across into the New Year and its railroad-track of time.
I 've always carried that visual map of the year in my mind, and used it--although I did not realize it, did not realize that I actually have always used it, until I was in my forties. And I realized too that not everybody had it! Profound!
Word of the day is, "porpentine." I found it in a quote by TS Eliott, and it means, "porcupine." His cat was "porpentine." Wonder if it threw quills, or just seemed to. Freckles, our cat, throws quills at my husband who is gullible enough to trust Freckles and invites him into his lap.
Today I started out with memory, and went to word, and now leave you without a recipe or reference to cooking. I have overeaten this holiday, and so had for breakfast only a corn tortilla toasted on the gas flame with just a leeeetle butter . YAZZYBEL
I think I have the reason for the expectation of time suspended for a bit.
When I went to first grade, Miss Johnnie wrote out the months of the year on the top of the blackboard, all around the room. January and February were written in white chalk , denoting Winter. Then followed across the front, March, April and May, in pink and denoting Spring. Then the board turned the corner and entered Summer, with June, July and August in sky-blue occupying the full space of that board. Then there was the door, through which I sometimes saw my own mother passing by on business of her own and not thinking of me, which caused me much grievance of heart. After the door there was still a short board on that wall, with September, October and November limned out in yellow. A corner was turned again, and all by itself on a small board at the back of the room was December, in red chalk so rich and dark that one could hardly see it even with six-year-old eyes. When the corner turned again, the year had ended and we had entered upon a great wall of windows which opened onto the beauties of the Lower Rio Grande Valley of South Texas: palm trees, birds,breezes. sun, rain, wind, dust. I think it's the wall of windows that sends me into limbo at the New Year. I keep anticipating that time of daydreaming that carried me across into the New Year and its railroad-track of time.
I 've always carried that visual map of the year in my mind, and used it--although I did not realize it, did not realize that I actually have always used it, until I was in my forties. And I realized too that not everybody had it! Profound!
Word of the day is, "porpentine." I found it in a quote by TS Eliott, and it means, "porcupine." His cat was "porpentine." Wonder if it threw quills, or just seemed to. Freckles, our cat, throws quills at my husband who is gullible enough to trust Freckles and invites him into his lap.
Today I started out with memory, and went to word, and now leave you without a recipe or reference to cooking. I have overeaten this holiday, and so had for breakfast only a corn tortilla toasted on the gas flame with just a leeeetle butter . YAZZYBEL
Monday, January 3, 2011
Finally, it's breakfast time
I open with this statement: so far, I am writing every day. The other bloggers I read just write de vez en cuando (from time to time) so I may filter down to that schedule.
People in the papers, online, and on the radio are all prognosticating for the future. Here's what I prognosticate: For my generation, (really old)=fearlessness. For my children, in their forties or fifties=mindfulness. For my grandchildren=courage.
I read about the Virtues on some website today. Was surprised that Prudence has specifically to do with money. News to me. Have been imprudent in many other areas of life besides money. So, it is a lesson specifically to me. This year, prudent with my money, my spending.
Everyone is changing their furnace filters in my family today. Much robin email about filters, value of changing such, reasons for changing such. YES--everyone should go out and get a new furnace filter and change their old one out. Buy a pack. One of my brother in laws says to get moderately priced filters as it is better to change moderately priced filter once a month than super filter hardly ever.
To change the subject: Here is the recipe for the Bizcochitos [little biscuits en espanol ( I have forgotten the tilde symbol)].
1 c. butter
3/4 c. sugar
1 t. anise seed......Cream all
Add 1 egg and beat well.
Add 3 c. flour and 1 1/2 t. baking powder and 1/2 t. salt.
Mix well, add 1/2 c. brandy. Mix.
NOW, here's where I differ from the recipe. I DO NOT ROLL AND CUT any more. So, mass the dough up, put on plastic, form into roll or rolls depending on how large you want your cookies to be. Chill.
Then when you take the rolls out, cut small cookies (they wont spread much) roll in cinnamon and sugar mix (1/2 c. sugar, 1 1/2 t. cinnamon). Place on greased cooky sheet and bake for about ten minutes. They are simply delicious, brown and crispy on the edges. Texture is delicate, SANDY. They are true sand tarts. If this is what you want in a cooky, you couldn't do better. I frankly prefer my other butter cookies with baking soda instead of baking powder, but these are very nice. All for today, YAZZYBEL
People in the papers, online, and on the radio are all prognosticating for the future. Here's what I prognosticate: For my generation, (really old)=fearlessness. For my children, in their forties or fifties=mindfulness. For my grandchildren=courage.
I read about the Virtues on some website today. Was surprised that Prudence has specifically to do with money. News to me. Have been imprudent in many other areas of life besides money. So, it is a lesson specifically to me. This year, prudent with my money, my spending.
Everyone is changing their furnace filters in my family today. Much robin email about filters, value of changing such, reasons for changing such. YES--everyone should go out and get a new furnace filter and change their old one out. Buy a pack. One of my brother in laws says to get moderately priced filters as it is better to change moderately priced filter once a month than super filter hardly ever.
To change the subject: Here is the recipe for the Bizcochitos [little biscuits en espanol ( I have forgotten the tilde symbol)].
1 c. butter
3/4 c. sugar
1 t. anise seed......Cream all
Add 1 egg and beat well.
Add 3 c. flour and 1 1/2 t. baking powder and 1/2 t. salt.
Mix well, add 1/2 c. brandy. Mix.
NOW, here's where I differ from the recipe. I DO NOT ROLL AND CUT any more. So, mass the dough up, put on plastic, form into roll or rolls depending on how large you want your cookies to be. Chill.
Then when you take the rolls out, cut small cookies (they wont spread much) roll in cinnamon and sugar mix (1/2 c. sugar, 1 1/2 t. cinnamon). Place on greased cooky sheet and bake for about ten minutes. They are simply delicious, brown and crispy on the edges. Texture is delicate, SANDY. They are true sand tarts. If this is what you want in a cooky, you couldn't do better. I frankly prefer my other butter cookies with baking soda instead of baking powder, but these are very nice. All for today, YAZZYBEL
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Prudence
Good morning all....It's Sunday, and the word of the day is prudence. The Dean preached his sermon on that virtue today. It was astounding to me that the whole thinking world seems to be coming around to the basics of what is good and right for us. Simplicity. Prudence. Honesty.
There were lots of laughs today. A fey spirit seemed to have been present in the cold, cold, cold nave of our Cathedral. The Dean in his announcements announced tonight's Evensong, "sung by the Gentlemen (so called) of the Choir." Hmm. It drew a smile...
Then, at Communion, the Presider launched out early with his "The Lord be with you," as the offering takers were yet struggling up the altar steps with their burden. Then, a hiatus while business was taken care of. The Presider said, "The Lord is always with you," and to my surprise this elicited a roar of laughter from us, the Eight o'Clock Club, out in the pews.
Things ensued tranquilly from then on. I attribute the comedy to the little New Year, an immature sprite who's come to visit and doesn't realize that he is here to wear himself out.
Church is both word and memory. Memory of all those we prayed for, and of all the New Years that have been celebrated in that church.
And at home, I am making bizcochitos from a New Mexico Christmas card recipe. I'll tell you how they came out, tomorrow. YAZZYBEL
There were lots of laughs today. A fey spirit seemed to have been present in the cold, cold, cold nave of our Cathedral. The Dean in his announcements announced tonight's Evensong, "sung by the Gentlemen (so called) of the Choir." Hmm. It drew a smile...
Then, at Communion, the Presider launched out early with his "The Lord be with you," as the offering takers were yet struggling up the altar steps with their burden. Then, a hiatus while business was taken care of. The Presider said, "The Lord is always with you," and to my surprise this elicited a roar of laughter from us, the Eight o'Clock Club, out in the pews.
Things ensued tranquilly from then on. I attribute the comedy to the little New Year, an immature sprite who's come to visit and doesn't realize that he is here to wear himself out.
Church is both word and memory. Memory of all those we prayed for, and of all the New Years that have been celebrated in that church.
And at home, I am making bizcochitos from a New Mexico Christmas card recipe. I'll tell you how they came out, tomorrow. YAZZYBEL
Saturday, January 1, 2011
New Year's Day, 2011
Good morning, and a HappyNew Year's Greeting to all!
Names are words, and the word today is that not one of my sisters nor nieces has chosen to be mentioned on the blog by name. So be it; I don't blame them. The blog will be the less for it, but that is okay. It is dangerous to allow your name into the hands of another.
Right now I am reading Harold Bloom: The Western Canon
Harold Bloom: How to Read and Why
And my book club book, which is drifting aroound here somewhere and is entitled--barely got a chance to look at it, as it arrived in the mail a couple of days ago--something like, Where the World Turns...oh, surely not.
Right now I am playing on the piano Haydn's Sonata no. 2, the first movement. I have read the second and third movements so need to get on with them before I get TOO GOOD on the first part and get stuck there.
Also on top of the piano is a big fat book, The Shorter New Oxford Book of Carols, a wonderful compendium of seasonal music. It's still Christmas until January 6, so can keep playing them.
I should say that I am playing at, rather than playing, these works. This morphs us right conveniently into memory, as it was my mother's term. "She played AT it," was her description of an over-ambitious lady's rendering of some piece of music. It's a handy and true phrase. Some nights I cook, but there are nights when I just cook at a dinner.
Last night we went to a party where we saw people we had not seen for twenty five years or more--since I lived in that neighborhood. Everyone looked beautiful and happy, mostly because they are the children's generation with their growing children. The house was ablaze with candles, and the food was good. Frijoles, arroz, homemade tamales El Paso style. I make tamales too and will talk about those at some later time. It was a good beginning to the new year. YAZZYBEL
Names are words, and the word today is that not one of my sisters nor nieces has chosen to be mentioned on the blog by name. So be it; I don't blame them. The blog will be the less for it, but that is okay. It is dangerous to allow your name into the hands of another.
Right now I am reading Harold Bloom: The Western Canon
Harold Bloom: How to Read and Why
And my book club book, which is drifting aroound here somewhere and is entitled--barely got a chance to look at it, as it arrived in the mail a couple of days ago--something like, Where the World Turns...oh, surely not.
Right now I am playing on the piano Haydn's Sonata no. 2, the first movement. I have read the second and third movements so need to get on with them before I get TOO GOOD on the first part and get stuck there.
Also on top of the piano is a big fat book, The Shorter New Oxford Book of Carols, a wonderful compendium of seasonal music. It's still Christmas until January 6, so can keep playing them.
I should say that I am playing at, rather than playing, these works. This morphs us right conveniently into memory, as it was my mother's term. "She played AT it," was her description of an over-ambitious lady's rendering of some piece of music. It's a handy and true phrase. Some nights I cook, but there are nights when I just cook at a dinner.
Last night we went to a party where we saw people we had not seen for twenty five years or more--since I lived in that neighborhood. Everyone looked beautiful and happy, mostly because they are the children's generation with their growing children. The house was ablaze with candles, and the food was good. Frijoles, arroz, homemade tamales El Paso style. I make tamales too and will talk about those at some later time. It was a good beginning to the new year. YAZZYBEL
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