tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59069155074536735312024-02-19T05:31:21.173-05:00Bread and Butter PressLeahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-74984304174087591432011-03-24T12:09:00.006-04:002011-03-24T12:15:22.073-04:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YLtLCiTKfH8Xo3pCMq0EyzmjqLAJDCRuNFWdoxascK5qGwJG7bIO8eD6uhIKKAC8bWZSjt-Q14xBk2HoNYLFQm46kinafG_gXNADuP8L7O3i40aXKLreJkfg4ex08B0sqlErIsZsFmnB/s1600/DinerJournal_Logo.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 44px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YLtLCiTKfH8Xo3pCMq0EyzmjqLAJDCRuNFWdoxascK5qGwJG7bIO8eD6uhIKKAC8bWZSjt-Q14xBk2HoNYLFQm46kinafG_gXNADuP8L7O3i40aXKLreJkfg4ex08B0sqlErIsZsFmnB/s400/DinerJournal_Logo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587680612003030642" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLG0rN6in73uOJl_T1n7F2FX7oPlaoJ5gvyLKBi0e02hyOj0sWg3g85WkNhqaOF5z76uqF6zpOybdVKMN5fKD83vuxFuAFOmpLEs5EUWt5Nr3QuDMei_FDAc_HBrmK2-Sacp2V841z0WCA/s1600/DJ17_issue.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 88px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLG0rN6in73uOJl_T1n7F2FX7oPlaoJ5gvyLKBi0e02hyOj0sWg3g85WkNhqaOF5z76uqF6zpOybdVKMN5fKD83vuxFuAFOmpLEs5EUWt5Nr3QuDMei_FDAc_HBrmK2-Sacp2V841z0WCA/s400/DJ17_issue.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587679611532954082" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOAbhUgHgbSlYpVd9aThDIL8tJk31OLIgq4JNfshnQJJZw5-qvT05cevw70DBIyX67dNPOfrpq33BfPSKGyWZrQB5PMkHiD-fMeTBSFql8A3QCs85bd7AneYOL4iCx_H7O91Zx2KUhVO-J/s1600/DJ17_spread.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOAbhUgHgbSlYpVd9aThDIL8tJk31OLIgq4JNfshnQJJZw5-qvT05cevw70DBIyX67dNPOfrpq33BfPSKGyWZrQB5PMkHiD-fMeTBSFql8A3QCs85bd7AneYOL4iCx_H7O91Zx2KUhVO-J/s400/DJ17_spread.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587679766378229554" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPtfIxQtWQHHjTWgNsux4qDjca1yJeCowyYTAU44HO98AIWBqpMxZB-ZXc9El5oBBAvi-0yVrAQ_rJese0DoKYxYgUX9vRgo0GpR9JcjbF-71xpjE0IHLvPFqz8y1vtejHxzZP9hd_URYR/s1600/DJ17_myth.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPtfIxQtWQHHjTWgNsux4qDjca1yJeCowyYTAU44HO98AIWBqpMxZB-ZXc9El5oBBAvi-0yVrAQ_rJese0DoKYxYgUX9vRgo0GpR9JcjbF-71xpjE0IHLvPFqz8y1vtejHxzZP9hd_URYR/s400/DJ17_myth.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587679946722116530" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTL-zfLF2tO3JNsBRHYqDNxeIC_B-vgMUg6LP3BVKvkgGe7CoHsid2ysWJSCyGNbz1zSlSGpUo-dFqujsqRaSbYcUMfypqz4crG3begsJh4wvKP39M0Cg1cV8BW_dN5z21rinfQZLkmNAJ/s1600/DJ17_spread2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTL-zfLF2tO3JNsBRHYqDNxeIC_B-vgMUg6LP3BVKvkgGe7CoHsid2ysWJSCyGNbz1zSlSGpUo-dFqujsqRaSbYcUMfypqz4crG3begsJh4wvKP39M0Cg1cV8BW_dN5z21rinfQZLkmNAJ/s400/DJ17_spread2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587680057636634210" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXv5HEcX0NrIF9m_S_R7s4kcsPa5jY5jQ2xhlCKDGr3IY3uhmhDDWihnzVwKR9jTkXrY6iZ_o1BcjOHu6KVQ954Mpfu6ICzdwHADEQNdfsJ5a8P_htscqV4JdE-v-NAkzUlX8t4SKlTj83/s1600/DJ17_quote2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 154px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXv5HEcX0NrIF9m_S_R7s4kcsPa5jY5jQ2xhlCKDGr3IY3uhmhDDWihnzVwKR9jTkXrY6iZ_o1BcjOHu6KVQ954Mpfu6ICzdwHADEQNdfsJ5a8P_htscqV4JdE-v-NAkzUlX8t4SKlTj83/s400/DJ17_quote2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587680265974848834" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicoejoIUPCT5MvNz_d3tg96_uBrki38AILXR7AdF2dWaWgXrio7Es6jZVVKLcVomOa3OsAqW_PnjyiJiKnr0EAjOvNaOfvz__uke44OIgVn4Pg5Vix61LGSHKJinAvrCGdbsi2TBEpgfho/s1600/DJ17_spread3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicoejoIUPCT5MvNz_d3tg96_uBrki38AILXR7AdF2dWaWgXrio7Es6jZVVKLcVomOa3OsAqW_PnjyiJiKnr0EAjOvNaOfvz__uke44OIgVn4Pg5Vix61LGSHKJinAvrCGdbsi2TBEpgfho/s400/DJ17_spread3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587680399056462706" border="0" /></a><a href="http://dinerjournal.com">COME CHECK IT OUT<br /></a></div>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-12877359737605493682010-11-10T16:12:00.004-05:002010-11-10T16:25:18.143-05:00Issue No. 16 WHAT UP<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinAzYDWFChiYU7ksTs7v9i4XKnZcy2Bi9OE1rVA3_pCjMQr_iIB1K-hn2Za2OuL_04X8mHFSZYd5WIDoayGQRz9_ctobttMO7UnFYaJz08WS0NTpvM1RbePmhU5xTiT9MWE3mS8jl6LtzX/s1600/howtostill1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 218px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinAzYDWFChiYU7ksTs7v9i4XKnZcy2Bi9OE1rVA3_pCjMQr_iIB1K-hn2Za2OuL_04X8mHFSZYd5WIDoayGQRz9_ctobttMO7UnFYaJz08WS0NTpvM1RbePmhU5xTiT9MWE3mS8jl6LtzX/s400/howtostill1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538033217275282626" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggdajtvxebw3w_Q8Ah2YV-DcdgxZmL7q2sDRJZnlsFkHhFJsvBa5p8Q1jCf4aNULpQmSMitmdS9oGjS-jAMJEJ1IKNXfZ96ABqiIak8-9so28q3Qkc3TWFvMw41cVcFSGTUxN7fMeySHS/s1600/howtostill2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 218px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggdajtvxebw3w_Q8Ah2YV-DcdgxZmL7q2sDRJZnlsFkHhFJsvBa5p8Q1jCf4aNULpQmSMitmdS9oGjS-jAMJEJ1IKNXfZ96ABqiIak8-9so28q3Qkc3TWFvMw41cVcFSGTUxN7fMeySHS/s400/howtostill2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538033280601479282" border="0" /></a><br />Check out the whole video on the Diner Journal <a href="http://dinerjournal.com/">website</a>!<br />Issue 16 out tomorrow!Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-13213675932630859142010-09-29T00:26:00.007-04:002010-09-29T00:52:32.734-04:00This time 2 yrs ago<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD1XS64B7zCKJEXE-2_pLGdcIuAc_AexyMDtPRnZfc3S0krjXkjEP2az186CL1jxE9Gbm0Wn02yquN80R_I20PkRdO4m87a-ZwVANZx8OoSZo0_8tyJh9drIQwyy1yk5z6nsxUyMOQmdr9/s1600/IMG_1570.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD1XS64B7zCKJEXE-2_pLGdcIuAc_AexyMDtPRnZfc3S0krjXkjEP2az186CL1jxE9Gbm0Wn02yquN80R_I20PkRdO4m87a-ZwVANZx8OoSZo0_8tyJh9drIQwyy1yk5z6nsxUyMOQmdr9/s400/IMG_1570.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522190161254099810" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-15326732174336681692010-09-09T23:48:00.004-04:002010-09-09T23:53:31.345-04:00Hamburger roll-up at 2:18<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:monospace, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; "><object width="420" height="261"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jaf6zF-FJBk?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jaf6zF-FJBk?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="420" height="261"></embed></object></span></span>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-63284208019926680782010-04-22T17:20:00.000-04:002010-04-22T17:21:02.395-04:00NEW ISSUE SUPER DOPE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcb5Ta3RXI_jUgDvAMETBXpTwbN1yzdNXPQytUuAqKc9jRNEl6Oe3birQs8DKYTYp8WrwKJf9J9cv7GGwr_v7X9vMjRDV37cUoFq5MDGm_-TiOBPpPjqVbvBB156T5awuRP_aycYPlZNDk/s1600/Issue14cover.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 328px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcb5Ta3RXI_jUgDvAMETBXpTwbN1yzdNXPQytUuAqKc9jRNEl6Oe3birQs8DKYTYp8WrwKJf9J9cv7GGwr_v7X9vMjRDV37cUoFq5MDGm_-TiOBPpPjqVbvBB156T5awuRP_aycYPlZNDk/s400/Issue14cover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463074895440299634" border="0" /></a>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-47152059746112866352009-08-11T23:55:00.002-04:002009-08-11T23:37:51.388-04:00Near bidNow I have the word "hamburger" stuck in my head.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg76sYUMgSgOMLrSXnJA7eNSqHyVOtvPbat-vT73cgmLwOghcV6xti8cH7cofdISQQ3s9JIl_3QycEk4REcNPeHaSNK42qkS7cvk6Bzwy1dYrE1MhgDvFq4FtU4YnKP-vnBqOChY4rtmtCf/s1600-h/Picture+1.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 393px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg76sYUMgSgOMLrSXnJA7eNSqHyVOtvPbat-vT73cgmLwOghcV6xti8cH7cofdISQQ3s9JIl_3QycEk4REcNPeHaSNK42qkS7cvk6Bzwy1dYrE1MhgDvFq4FtU4YnKP-vnBqOChY4rtmtCf/s400/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368550187141120754" border="0" /></a>1988 McDonald's trio, <a href="http://cgi.ebay.com/Vintage-Fisher-Price-McDonald-fun-food-LARGE-TRIO_W0QQitemZ160353605145QQcmdZViewItemQQptZLH_DefaultDomain_210?hash=item2555d1d619&_trksid=p3286.c0.m14#ht_500wt_1067">large</a>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-41929785028708373062009-08-10T22:29:00.001-04:002009-08-10T22:33:01.389-04:00A big hamburger<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KWyE3vPNZjc&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KWyE3vPNZjc&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-6559234550493608842009-03-06T20:41:00.002-05:002009-03-06T20:49:15.196-05:00ParsleyOkay, after the weird messianism of the last post I sense I should deliver something more than the promise of summer. Snow still on the ground, I'm feeling a little less bold about calling the seasons. Still, things are changing. I can feel it. Home alone, the campus emptying itself out for spring break, and sheets of ice clattering off the roof in-between the tactile silences of our old house. Tonight the wood floors seem warm, and the ceilings, lower. Am I growing taller? <div><br /></div><div>I've decided to chop all the parsley. Usually I use it once or twice, and then, a week later, I find it in the back of the fridge, dying in its own wet womb of a plastic bag. This time, no. If I chop all the parsley, I can pat it dry in a paper towel and then put it away to use all week. I'm pleased. Then I look down. The stems are there, naked on the counter. So I make a broth of them. Then I rattle through the fridge and find five old, softened carrots and half a yellow onion. In they go. Then a bigger pot. I'm feeling heady from the way this is going. The smell has filled the kitchen. I dream of asparagus soup.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQWRLGy0yJgYF8QicsiK9vdb-9BAEiKG-efl7ilMqjo-Jj0ObSGObUWAmtnfrWYqBFPGK_eUCLw7YcBYyRnhVSg4cE_Ejt56V-4ToUR27aeuHWYYsrtu1DZL3Wxtu_lRV6Ue7ynjY36S8/s400/IMG_1712_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310245312823086082" /></div><div><br /></div><div>I think I used to hate parsley. The only time I was really aware that I was eating it was at the Passover seder, a springtime holiday, when you dip it salt water to recall the tears of the slaves as they left Egypt, eating the simplest of foods. This moment in the seder prompts the youngest at the table to ask the traditional question: "Why is this night different from all other nights?" Here we are again. Why <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">is</span> this night different? I can't say. It's still cold. I'm still here. This thesis is still not writing itself. But here is vegetable stock-- the beginning of something. The base, the start. I'll stay up with it until about two. Then it will go into the fridge, and I, to bed. </div>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-91158415664179560042009-03-01T23:52:00.004-05:002009-03-01T23:58:43.284-05:00It may be snowingbut remember this (I say to myself) ! Someday tomatoes from the farmer's market will look and taste again as this one did. And we will wear sun dresses. All of us. It's coming.<div><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi5Sn3THG5v5CO4pl8BOZ_s57mP10zxIfNj5ztDau-0Uu0aQYABufJ0TU6HSkXe-liXnPqTxFOUzJdKPDkHRfxVmS018Lf1LORyzJcDtx4drKQERc9uSb0zlaEQ2yEal0QW-JxQ21tjQE7/s400/IMG_1407.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308449963992628098" /></div>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-6599709114806740562009-01-20T09:03:00.004-05:002009-01-20T17:06:22.237-05:00Hold on, prioritiesSome people have them so right. Congratulations, America. This letter, care of The New York Times, <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/16/opinion/16lettersintro.html?_r=1">here</a>.<div><br /><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 372px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm0OYRLPlzDd4ogxXKJcl8mL5DBZOHFpzfDvaKDetY3IYJn_0yG_Nq2UB4UShL7ZpOMMcvV6ATMbLa7TfAq6WpElKjOUX5DQV2nWsTEnrdCl9Ap4mad1dXV9Qc6MapDbonqZ2iGycDwlRr/s400/16letterAlarge.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293499996906836546" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-42875558372349637632009-01-17T17:27:00.020-05:002009-01-17T21:16:16.508-05:00New England<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My grandma is giving me her Gourmet collection in two year increments; I'm currently jamming on 1994-95. The most curious thing about these issues is the art department stuff. The photographs have such a different quality. I guess they weren't digital? And what's really conspicuous is actually the lack of photography. There are so many articles accompanied only by illustrations -- spare line drawings by Merle Nacht that are often just in black and white. I really like them, even though they confuse me because I feel like I'm reading The New Yorker. A totally different time in food journalism. Can I be nostalgic for something I never really had?</div><div><div><br /><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 218px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqNx7NNTJLOl0eWoIuryYbRf4e7hwPg83TxmblXQMrV1_ix65Ypw3bzuJA9ykqCpEt7QT0D51ivvJTNpK8ew6l9f1p8TbX2CCqRQOG3JuyP6wgBgBgSanNYml_vAT0bvZgbMoC45ufZQM/s400/sc00139613.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292403830409824450" /></div><div><br /></div><div>This recipe for chowder looked interesting. When I was little my mom used to take me to Swanson's Fish when she did her errands there, and I would go nuts over the clam chowder samples and crackers. The chowder was all the color of cream (and maybe all cream), potatoes and clams floating undiscovered until you could taste them and feel their startlingly different textures. I remember ordering chowder once only to receive the Manhattan variety. What an utter disappointment. Where was the mystery there?</div><div><br /></div><div>This recipe is actually what I think chowder should taste like. The addition of smoked fish is pretty great, too. The recipe calls for a full pound of it and only 3 slices of bacon, but I had half that amount of the trout, so I added more bacon. Also, for more 90s grooves, please please rent or take out from the library the Two Fat Ladies collection and watch season two, episode five. They go to a small Scottish town's smoke house to get kippers and smoked haddock, and then they cook breakfast for a lot of handsome men who work at a small brewery. And they're so obviously tickled by the whole thing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Since we're living in the 21st century, nothing's real until it's been documented, and I can't draw, here's Swanson's. The picture is from their <a href="http://www.swansonsfish.com/">website</a>.</div><div><div><br /><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-jSVG9vuUoSeIMe1zo4nmJkUGUwUKvuv4O4g47D0i3OgSssVxl9Itrgt-TOde-Lj35zEtwYPqJAQOQQIXxTdqerzV93ztG8rSqMiz8wu_lfTAYQpgDi6xmTrGJW73EuLA8suN2rWOQhK/s400/neonsign.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292394970898252290" /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Smoked Fish Chowder</span></div><div>adapted from Gourmet // March 1994</div><div><br /></div><div>8 slices bacon, chopped</div><div>2 medium onions, chopped</div><div>1 1/2 pounds russet potatoes</div><div>2 celery ribs, chopped</div><div>1 1/2 cups chicken broth</div><div>1 1/2 cups water</div><div>10 oz frozen corn</div><div>10 oz frozen lima beans</div><div>2 teaspoons cornstarch</div><div>1 1/2 cups half-and-half</div><div>1 to 2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce</div><div>1/2 pound smoked trout</div><div>2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley</div><div>1 tablespoon minced fresh dill</div><div><br /></div><div>In a heavy kettle, cook bacon over moderate heat until crisp. Add onions, just soften. Peel potatoes and cut into 3/4 inch cubes. Add the potatoes, celery broth, and water and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes. Add lima beans and corn and simmer for five.</div><div><br /></div><div>In a small bowl dissolve cornstarch and half-and-half, then stir into soup with Worcestershire. Bring soup to boil, stirring, and add fish. Stir in parsley and dill. (Reserve some for serving if you're feeling it.) So easy. Makes about 12 cups.</div></div></div></div></div>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-80645380999314423162009-01-11T11:00:00.010-05:002009-01-11T21:41:33.746-05:00A taste of my own medicineThis is one I started in September but never posted. One last gust from the winds of 2008.<div><br /><div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGQ3hOdCo11oyNy43CqlhoIeCz-_Pg-SNchEEn7dXETdsdSBdEtBTpRzPUjBYE98tatBRCZYKBX-ErZaVBouzqO9bJwy0gaPAaSWD9Sq19OaekkQVEn68M7swTx33il0Ybnqbn5siiHJ7N/s400/IMG_1503.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253422191012963346" border="0" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div>Missing the people at Diner Journal, thinking of turning to drinking, I tried my hand at making bitters. I had written a post for the blog there on their house-made bitters, and it was one of the best things about my summer. Josh and Peter sharing so generously what they knew, their obvious relish in the experiments behind the counter. The process involved infusing distilled spirits with something - bark, herbs, seeds, fruits - and then waiting while the ingredients took their own time and course. I loved the idea of this. Learning about bitters, like the mixtures themselves, left me hot under the tongue.</div><div><br /></div><div>Their mystery seemed destined from their origins. Today bitters are considered the backbone of the cocktail, but they were long used as "patent" medicines, which verged on the miraculous. The issue of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Harper's Weekly</span> from June 6, 1863 hailed Hostetter's Celebrated Stomach Bitters as, "at once the best of correctives, the gentlest and most genial of aperients, an infallible regulator and a powerful restorative." Morally upright, no doubt, but kind of boring. Yet, elsewhere, in <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The New York Times</span> just two months before, an ad had claimed that the very same brew, "fortifie[d] the system against miasmas and the evil effects of unwholesome water." Well good. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">There</span> was something I could use.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, the little amber bottles that Josh sold in the store really did look like they had fallen off the wagon of some traveling doctor in the 19th century. Or else they were straight out The Phantom Tollbooth, the hubbub tonic of "Kakophonous A. Dischord, DOCTOR OF DISSONANCE." Do you remember the amazing drawing on that page? And Milo and company ask, what does the A. stand for? And the doctor replies, "AS LOUD AS POSSIBLE." Yes, yes, and yes. Somewhere in-between the hard facts of science and the mirages of con-men, there was a medicine of crossed lines and clattering voids. I, too, was "suffering from a severe lack of noise," I thought. Bitters would cure me. I wanted to make my own.</div><div><br /></div><div>I did. I have a hard time explaining what they taste like. Unlike the fine bitters I sampled this summer, the batch I've made falls sort of flat on the palate. I can't tell if it needs something as a base in the mix, or is the base for something else I haven't thought of yet. I think it could have infused for longer. Honestly, I'm totally perplexed by what I've made. It is, however, very smooth, nicely spicy and just a little sweet. I don't think it would do very much in a cocktail where one would have used, say, Angostura. But whatever, I like a little of it with ginger ale, or club soda. This is how I did it.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaChIiWzBIwB6yuPF6PnXfmRfVkrQEeNW8BpCLt2A98EeKhTfzhi676poqsCIAcIT7nNUMc5PL1htbYfPj8_TEf5O1OsKxI73cJR4dlh9XIaLJnTkWwZyVInZOGFzExQkEsmPsGSseq_Y9/s400/IMG_1495.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289896173682754210" /></div><div><br /></div><div>I bought very strong vodka from the Polish liquor store around the corner from where I lived in Greenpoint this summer. (I have not seen vodka like that in Middletown, but I'm looking.) I peeled and cut up the horseradish root that I had used to make <a href="http://breadbutterpress.blogspot.com/2008/05/ketchup.html">ketchup,</a> and which had spent an entire summer in the back of the fridge looking like a hairy archaeology project gone wrong, like it might send shoots out at any moment, knocking away innocent radishes and the Ronnybrook milk bottle, sucking up life so it could burst through the refrigerator and eat the entire apartment building. Anyway, then I did the same with fresh ginger - rough chop. I added some peppercorns of different colors that I got at Marlow & Sons, lemon peel, fennel seeds, one star anise and some other things I can't remember. Into a large mason jar they all went, with the vodka, to rest.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was away from the tincture for almost a month. Ideally, over the course of this time, you watch it, pass it while making this or that in the kitchen and look longingly at its quiet progress -- periodically, of course, allowing yourself to shake it or, even more rarely, to open the crusting lid and dip a fingertip into its suspect operation, only then to shake your head, no, not yet, and screw the top back on. When it <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">is</span> time, whenever that is, you strain and finish with a little caramelized sugar. Then I found my own glass dropper bottles, just for fun. And for a minute there, I felt it: I was totally a medicine woman. A righteous specialist in noise, an enemy of illnesses that don't exist.</div></div>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-77816868836485131312009-01-10T22:12:00.002-05:002009-01-11T11:28:54.406-05:00New year<div>The new Diner Journal is out. Chef makes ribollita, surveys the philosophy of recipes, teaches you more about the kitchen than you thought possible and pays homage to Elizabeth David -- all in one piece. I think you should <a href="http://dinernyc.com/dinerjournal/">order</a> one.<br /></div><div> <div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 219px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9i6JhnXcwznuGUArqOS-J8GlhGNCsGDrLBhc1xsN99ReAapP5NwZryJ3CtzGp13M6buWWLc2r1M0c85kXp_YC14V8YIgGoUan-95tw7ct6p7oVkUi-K_eOQ-CY_NRfLJHU6ys0xv0g6IT/s400/Picture+1.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289700371974703970" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-56418979900554238212008-12-19T15:39:00.004-05:002008-12-19T16:07:17.614-05:00Old friends<div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0XB7MUhYD4TuJPoO_6r8G9q8s5tGgcjKU_Qip9Z1QiQ3ERvZaae75aD3U1kJRmGUW_wd1M2mutopqp2XPGs4uKSSTifGjD7S_2PMu52N5Uc-3YUASXKwq6w6OXFL7EJR1V1enGGw9CJq1/s400/IMG_1575.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281610467870346786" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifMwYpFyL4FreLfYNyFF433uqfviHavMckk5jcvV-XiZQj8vDSLiXJ4i-ANQHwU5ZboX2PGBD8_BebKTtS7wM4tcD6SiutyAR1XXRu5bIt18ggbgxT7IrWJ6nzGX7wWPkyluDYdE3pIe3o/s400/IMG_1657.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281603988589453858" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-57666224601368573502008-10-09T14:06:00.029-04:002008-10-09T17:35:21.843-04:00It's messy, so messyBaking in the afternoon. Today is Yom Kippur, and I'm with a chocolate <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/MILE-HIGH-CHOCOLATE-CAKE-241216">cake</a>, wet wrists, licking from the bowl. Atonement, it's a nice idea.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJwT-04lQaeWzmnB2VTcvHRjxgPxmpztPCES244ZzJw_Y6LHu1KQIdP9HMAxzbePtDd0RFEFly7k4Cb1jEizyFGQsJ4sTMHSvTv2onQ_BfkqRWs-EjpfvRwZyTyPSGjJO8nh35vXKKzPv/s1600-h/IMG_1626_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJwT-04lQaeWzmnB2VTcvHRjxgPxmpztPCES244ZzJw_Y6LHu1KQIdP9HMAxzbePtDd0RFEFly7k4Cb1jEizyFGQsJ4sTMHSvTv2onQ_BfkqRWs-EjpfvRwZyTyPSGjJO8nh35vXKKzPv/s400/IMG_1626_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255265257322351314" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Vw_RLD5OnNxJJyZHMccSB1sx0gBtCHmkjyqlqcDfBXfFQqboZihEEIvlZWV9Xsjp_dZ3JxsseWcseGkRw1vj9an__f2_mq1vvWuhdvPbnCh3K1aMnL_mOQQaHGZcu7_jB5YVax9GSLOu/s1600-h/IMG_1615_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Vw_RLD5OnNxJJyZHMccSB1sx0gBtCHmkjyqlqcDfBXfFQqboZihEEIvlZWV9Xsjp_dZ3JxsseWcseGkRw1vj9an__f2_mq1vvWuhdvPbnCh3K1aMnL_mOQQaHGZcu7_jB5YVax9GSLOu/s400/IMG_1615_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255230251907825426" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDCWVFW8OSiQ35SLE76GiNIdl4CYqMXXIdWcyPPizJa9ZaYVxn_9dpsv4rozoSAsWtiZ8_o2fk-4-w4LV7AV8Y-J77gcpNJGtXVWziszh3k_f0zZe88NpfZZI7-8Phlojr-tN9bWQBFnQ/s1600-h/IMG_1617_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDCWVFW8OSiQ35SLE76GiNIdl4CYqMXXIdWcyPPizJa9ZaYVxn_9dpsv4rozoSAsWtiZ8_o2fk-4-w4LV7AV8Y-J77gcpNJGtXVWziszh3k_f0zZe88NpfZZI7-8Phlojr-tN9bWQBFnQ/s400/IMG_1617_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255229407310170306" border="0" /></a>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-31963459795418220342008-10-08T23:41:00.010-04:002008-10-09T17:56:18.631-04:00It was an accident!Did you know leaves can be corks? If you click on the picture, you'll see.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd_-Mc82OPjxEVpEU7dvH3cYW6s7KY-P0bq1z9YrSUCNqPahPAZdaRnha9CK93YaXAxetpNMIqOFwHZ0JXVTltwhOF-j_0-13SumFa0KXYWfGAX0JsNLBMZwrXPP1g-88q2bgl11kyVeG2/s1600-h/IMG_1579.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd_-Mc82OPjxEVpEU7dvH3cYW6s7KY-P0bq1z9YrSUCNqPahPAZdaRnha9CK93YaXAxetpNMIqOFwHZ0JXVTltwhOF-j_0-13SumFa0KXYWfGAX0JsNLBMZwrXPP1g-88q2bgl11kyVeG2/s400/IMG_1579.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255244633257548434" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOA1aW6epwsHpHPaeva8gy0rL-1sBhID1ldUT462DhvQPc0e-Ir8Ii3t1pSlk0MgIG5bRgH0uE9sCFIUc8Etx_AsM-82DxM1PSAokg1p0JyYMxFn366gaURop03Dp8_9PsBdVTrZjYEuz/s1600-h/IMG_1526.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOA1aW6epwsHpHPaeva8gy0rL-1sBhID1ldUT462DhvQPc0e-Ir8Ii3t1pSlk0MgIG5bRgH0uE9sCFIUc8Etx_AsM-82DxM1PSAokg1p0JyYMxFn366gaURop03Dp8_9PsBdVTrZjYEuz/s400/IMG_1526.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255244411249684818" border="0" /></a>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-8476655125355646212008-09-24T18:14:00.009-04:002008-10-09T15:55:12.920-04:00Human biology 103<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ-7Q5foScUlwB91KmRjvcV7TK8VqLAYeK1imT-1r6AffNLfKzCCctx56vDQfmbWEoq4o9ZEsFGM26NAZg0beLUTn7ACyhWtGX8ndKBNvbh3fHBnmNjkQGJ9zSZ_N2zJ-HtI29J2fJOwEY/s1600-h/IMG_1484.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ-7Q5foScUlwB91KmRjvcV7TK8VqLAYeK1imT-1r6AffNLfKzCCctx56vDQfmbWEoq4o9ZEsFGM26NAZg0beLUTn7ACyhWtGX8ndKBNvbh3fHBnmNjkQGJ9zSZ_N2zJ-HtI29J2fJOwEY/s400/IMG_1484.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255245078515518162" border="0" /></a>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-26259327559086870092008-08-29T00:07:00.007-04:002008-08-29T00:20:48.371-04:00Hello, again!I'm back. After a summer writing and working for Diner Journal, I'm back. Below is the last of the blog entries I wrote. This is what I've been up to. It's been just great.<div><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDS7_jHc9RgxpGTQFUfa9IXqKG3uH2D22pnACoHpsup7pNy4YJx6dlhAucbMmzFnd2tYPSHf1ThyphenhyphenVm8vlgdHGPa_nW42ysFJihwm4hVVnZGVbl2bIAlrmRGs3lUyAy4SNho3QtQF_B5wm/s400/butch-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239787490572625330" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">photo by Anna Dunn<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; ">Butch 8.21.08</span></span></div></span></div><div><br /></div><div>So, uh, since I've spent three posts and an entire summer doomsdaying my way through the history of meat eating – and, since, the whole point of that tirade was to tell you something else, something wonderful, and not just make you depressed about your love of pork belly, I figured, well, I should probably tell you about that something else:<br /><br />Tom Mylan is the in-house butcher for these restaurants.<br /><br />You may already know this. Or you may not know this. But undoubtedly, if you've tasted this meat, you will want to know <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">more</span> about this.<br /><br />I go back into the walk-in. Tom is slicing through a dark, shiny orb that turns out to be beef liver. It's Wednesday, so he's working through the two pigs and steer that arrived from Fleischer's yesterday. They arrived hanging weight meat, huge hulks of muscle and tissue and bone and skin. By now he's gotten the pigs into primal thirds: shoulder, loin, belly, sirloin and ham. He gestures to an invisible stack of pigs on the block, saying, "All this is done."<br /><br />The radio is on and it's hot. Mark's coming to take meat to Bonita and we have to get those bags of it into a cooler for him. I jump in and once we've loaded the meat in half way, Tom warns, "Watch out, they're a little bloody on the outside."<br /><br />Then we're back to talking beef. Tom tells me about smoking, brining, braising. I ask about the burgers. He grinds the beef twice so it sticks together, but it's still coarser than most ground beef because the holes on the grind plate are larger. That's what gives the burgers their meaty quality – there's more whole muscle in them.<br /><br />Tom talks with such ease about cutting up meat that it's hard to believe he hasn't been doing it forever. Just a few years ago, Tom was in charge of the grocery at Marlow and editing the journal with Anna when he walked passed Cheffie and Andrew outside of Diner one day. They told him they were considering getting an in-house butcher so they could get hanging weight meat from Fleischer's. And he said something like, "That sounds really, really cool." And they said, "Wanna do it?"<br /><br />He moved in with Josh and Jessica of Fleischer's, lived on their futon with their mastiff Booboo and a giant tortoise. Every morning it was "beef leg, beef leg, beef leg." He began to collect books on the subject like a Navy meat manual from 1945 and watched educational clips on You Tube.<br /><br />And it has paid off. According to Tom, getting hanging weight (100-180 pound sections) meat is the only way for a restaurant to be able to afford getting grass-fed, local, properly raised meat. There's a lot of flexibility. Tom gets together with Juventino, Sean and Dave, and they can cut any way they want, make stylistic choices that wouldn't be possible if their meat came out of Cryovac. And it's a lot more exciting to cook here. Curing lardo, rendering it, whipping it. Dealing with odds and ends. Says Tom, "Limitations, not infinite possibilities, are what make great, classic cuisine." Agreed.</div>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-65491681359084001462008-06-27T11:24:00.000-04:002008-07-14T13:18:55.330-04:00Sauced (BBQ)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggvAq6FONrApryjviyE3C_FPLhHhXcPICOa0UayGPf2qfd1ijvqhuLJGoeDuOh_IhNmmGBSDV4s74o6EXS2JbiIKDqDXfZ216gx4TOD4gZGqNl8x0JWvuRtMlW4YPrnE-7ce5zBYPytG6-/s1600-h/IMG_1260.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggvAq6FONrApryjviyE3C_FPLhHhXcPICOa0UayGPf2qfd1ijvqhuLJGoeDuOh_IhNmmGBSDV4s74o6EXS2JbiIKDqDXfZ216gx4TOD4gZGqNl8x0JWvuRtMlW4YPrnE-7ce5zBYPytG6-/s400/IMG_1260.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215098517386289698" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUVi-t7iyMoXdcO5qMZwNmhMoSbEtwJsrtckcF_KN5LYk6Y6JH5nk5IhfVz1t_-a96cM68gGdIWNzyRBLwpUDwOZ8pSBBjurf1woLUO94STrAdly3bP3GvX0sw1UxBtkaL9IMAup1Att-K/s1600-h/IMG_1262.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUVi-t7iyMoXdcO5qMZwNmhMoSbEtwJsrtckcF_KN5LYk6Y6JH5nk5IhfVz1t_-a96cM68gGdIWNzyRBLwpUDwOZ8pSBBjurf1woLUO94STrAdly3bP3GvX0sw1UxBtkaL9IMAup1Att-K/s400/IMG_1262.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215098793796119074" border="0" /></a>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-17277492208463203032008-06-23T11:03:00.007-04:002008-06-23T19:32:06.294-04:00Bananas do the darndest thingsI'm making banana bread with some ripe bananas that I had put in the freezer last week. Look how they defrost! So weird and beautiful. So weird!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyD3Nv8hztrY3w3f8V5pLw1gwA5ffxV5PZUMEaDI-ItjEm69GrdLWS0JKkhS3Rdi5sGMr2gCHoRTQ13u9nDwYTdg0tEN1UGVMKhclLWpcI2uq3O3lV2Jjfyvs5G-qpTfdI0Wk4sOFBSx0N/s1600-h/IMG_1322.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyD3Nv8hztrY3w3f8V5pLw1gwA5ffxV5PZUMEaDI-ItjEm69GrdLWS0JKkhS3Rdi5sGMr2gCHoRTQ13u9nDwYTdg0tEN1UGVMKhclLWpcI2uq3O3lV2Jjfyvs5G-qpTfdI0Wk4sOFBSx0N/s400/IMG_1322.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215094926377577666" border="0" /></a>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-10738776379411693232008-06-16T21:25:00.004-04:002008-06-23T19:31:08.123-04:00It was too hot for tartsAnd the oven here is more than fickle. But ice cream - <span style="font-style: italic;">ice cream</span>, I thought - that would go so nicely with a rhubarb compote.<br /><br />And it did.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoipGSbQOtKu-lSnyWruOJj-u3mTQBE25rl6P6383UIMFbTnZaJ96w58Pw6MnEsxPiczdwc6cLnUl7xxGOm3bLAUYF89YOeRxmxz_7xxQ8p9nsciELTPI9ofUg6CvSbIYzGGgdg9wtriZ/s1600-h/IMG_1246.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoipGSbQOtKu-lSnyWruOJj-u3mTQBE25rl6P6383UIMFbTnZaJ96w58Pw6MnEsxPiczdwc6cLnUl7xxGOm3bLAUYF89YOeRxmxz_7xxQ8p9nsciELTPI9ofUg6CvSbIYzGGgdg9wtriZ/s400/IMG_1246.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211171449057975570" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rhubarb, Strawberry and Fennel Compote</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">this is sort of a recipe and sort of a fend-for-yourself-it's-worth-it</span><br /><br />rhubarb, chopped<br />strawberries, chopped<br />fennel, chopped<br />sugar, to taste<br />dash of vanilla extract<br />dash of bourbon<br />butter<br /><br />Heat about 1 tablespoon of butter in a saucepan over medium heat. When it's good and melted add everything. Let it all sit for for a minute or two, then stir occasionally while it becomes compote over the course of about 15 minutes or so. There should still be some soft bits of fruit.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWl0oONEuGckUsJ6YSCUvLIVDZkKbRO4fq-hrTxfmnyaKEOpJcWPvg4OK04OF5JVqjjDBTyMpJuq78uS-X1CSS45Kj1j53MR-dlxPvZNj7d0wNrxXY8XHosYtwEcn7dlvFfcxrG0nqOO3/s1600-h/IMG_1284.JPG"><br /></a>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-10491855060147105822008-06-11T10:50:00.010-04:002008-06-11T11:32:41.491-04:00Eternally yours,These are busy times for Bread and Butter. Only quiet tables and stoop picnics cut the city heat. But I've got a little something for you. <span style="font-style: italic;">Diner Journal</span>. Check it out. I'll be writing for their <a href="http://www.thedinerjournal.com">website</a> about the meat program at their awesome restaurants. And the quarterly journal is really a treat for the intellect and the eyes. I know you'll like it. Interviews, features on oysters, a saucy centerfold, recipes - it's enough to make a over-heated, sluggish city girl jump for joy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewFdXy2eeSsK4v91tddq37JC2WCPvAxv2JZHV0HjMUC8-WF_gbaw2b5kTr3ReP-2QawO6w62lReYB6mzeMsrUESD3pTx5WBOXavc67A6Q2c7N59xLCxle4Hp3GU_OH1fLEvUWtSc7XNsi/s1600-h/IMG_1209.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewFdXy2eeSsK4v91tddq37JC2WCPvAxv2JZHV0HjMUC8-WF_gbaw2b5kTr3ReP-2QawO6w62lReYB6mzeMsrUESD3pTx5WBOXavc67A6Q2c7N59xLCxle4Hp3GU_OH1fLEvUWtSc7XNsi/s400/IMG_1209.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210636782494555458" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhbHkwHPtLuqjIhZ9Y70UsdQeqD9oeN6SHiAJlgeen22o62ypWpN6F3F5ManJeu6Zo0Snc0V8-hiRn_eVRKGIdx7ptigZBAgLG-yrwTxBFnRPdNdkEI1mQZMOOTMI8m8-n5i7gokPoXy61/s1600-h/IMG_1186.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhbHkwHPtLuqjIhZ9Y70UsdQeqD9oeN6SHiAJlgeen22o62ypWpN6F3F5ManJeu6Zo0Snc0V8-hiRn_eVRKGIdx7ptigZBAgLG-yrwTxBFnRPdNdkEI1mQZMOOTMI8m8-n5i7gokPoXy61/s400/IMG_1186.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210640892318743186" border="0" /></a><br />It even comes in handy on date night. Last weekend, Andrew and I made a small move-in feast. Hand-rolled cous cous with chile powder, raisins, and fried onions. A salad of tomato, basil and fennel. And an indoors adaption of <span style="font-style: italic;">Diner Journal's</span> Grilled Squid with Eggplant, a toothsome mix, especially when generously accompanied by garlic and rosemary. Get your copy of the newly arrived summer issue, and you too can eat like Diner.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx0BwTsF98AacgzOSi_TcAWS8zWFiftjYOiR53wDQxj2GCJEtG_eptWHwUEG5hSl1RAqBDr3wq71c_RgrJ_uQRnqsQyLWu_BRQAwVeJtfJsEVOCV9DGasgEgx6n0PJfup5EuqX4MSFYI6m/s1600-h/summercover028.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx0BwTsF98AacgzOSi_TcAWS8zWFiftjYOiR53wDQxj2GCJEtG_eptWHwUEG5hSl1RAqBDr3wq71c_RgrJ_uQRnqsQyLWu_BRQAwVeJtfJsEVOCV9DGasgEgx6n0PJfup5EuqX4MSFYI6m/s400/summercover028.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210641064651207330" border="0" /></a>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-44689428160078666292008-06-02T10:49:00.001-04:002008-06-02T14:54:50.278-04:00If you weren't convincedthat Wesleyan's own MGMT is <a href="http://www.cookthink.com/blog/?p=967">everywhere</a>, they are. Hellooo, stewed rhubarb. Hello, Brooklyn.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihjE281ehqzI_sSZw1_VeMbHH6eQmpgtPE1_7XcNI6MNjXdSVxjiCMd-5glDHWm4RMX5pKU-aJpl8lnQoVIQRHWjyQhxN3QuNEs-DLIyYfNq8IJTC2nt0-PVdW5GjeK00PoloTrWbrmYz/s1600-h/IMG_1183.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihjE281ehqzI_sSZw1_VeMbHH6eQmpgtPE1_7XcNI6MNjXdSVxjiCMd-5glDHWm4RMX5pKU-aJpl8lnQoVIQRHWjyQhxN3QuNEs-DLIyYfNq8IJTC2nt0-PVdW5GjeK00PoloTrWbrmYz/s400/IMG_1183.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207356961871834690" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBpGH6Or6t7Ix7rKpj5KkAbs-4QpoAGAKhQ53GHu0UbmUxijSDcof0yVfPo5Ah5aeGsJTmsUgPR5hIK5gtUbchXOAYuq8y3hV0cyOs7Kv3IaZX0iaRn5snLTt7yY9a1FBQc0kY9lTo1lJ/s1600-h/IMG_1181.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBpGH6Or6t7Ix7rKpj5KkAbs-4QpoAGAKhQ53GHu0UbmUxijSDcof0yVfPo5Ah5aeGsJTmsUgPR5hIK5gtUbchXOAYuq8y3hV0cyOs7Kv3IaZX0iaRn5snLTt7yY9a1FBQc0kY9lTo1lJ/s400/IMG_1181.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207357717786078818" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5vmXGGFWEaX68i0HGCLe4TG7hg-WUyx8NNer1NVFFwFW5VicNcY3_tgM6wjte-JDUUC753f-hsRWCAZ9iEHVeA83lCcSBtSuuuFhc_ZtcIUiJeqzU4-zWRoTnKJfsDpIX-5faJ4M6kR8/s1600-h/IMG_1172.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5vmXGGFWEaX68i0HGCLe4TG7hg-WUyx8NNer1NVFFwFW5VicNcY3_tgM6wjte-JDUUC753f-hsRWCAZ9iEHVeA83lCcSBtSuuuFhc_ZtcIUiJeqzU4-zWRoTnKJfsDpIX-5faJ4M6kR8/s400/IMG_1172.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207357520217583186" border="0" /></a><br />Classic and cheap: hunks of fresh sourdough with butter, some sliced radish (1 dollar for a bunch) and chives, because - as the man at the market told us - the hotter it is outside, the hotter the radish, and these babies were still oh so mild.Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-29329313589520321442008-05-26T11:28:00.018-04:002008-05-27T00:01:24.640-04:00Can't say I miss Teresa HeinzI've been thinking about this ketchup recipe since December. Without warning and with varied intensity, it would flicker across my field of vision. Sometimes I was on my imaginary island, smoking a cigar, sipping cognac, and spreading it over grilled steak. Sometimes, I was in the middle of America, spinning through a county fair, high off my recent win for best ketchup. Sometimes, I was alone, standing over a stove, dipping caramelized onions into it and eating them with my hands. It was my ketchup fantasy carousel of those long, cold, winter months. It was mine.<br /><br />I couldn't wait until the tomatoes were riper. It's memorial day weekend, and at least metaphorically, that's summer. And I have to say, making this ketchup was no less filled with fantasy than fantasizing about making it. The moment I lifted the cover off the pot, five minutes into the process, I was once again in The Holiday Snack Bar in Beach Haven, Long Beach Island - my little corner of Jersey. My mom's family had a beach house there since 1958, ten years after the Snack Bar opened its doors. For a long time, the sleepy town's summer renaissance meant little more than sand in the Belopolsky girls' bathing suits, kid productions of South Pacific, Jersey corn, blueberries, and the occasional breakup of the neighborhood mobster cartel. Hey, it was Jersey.<br /><br />A lot had changed when I got to know my mother's Beach Haven, but the Holiday Snack Bar remained. The horseshoe bar. The finished, shellacked puzzles of Coca-cola pastorals hung on the walls. Unbelievably vertical lemon meringue pie in the center of the bar. Incredible burgers. And, at intervals along the wrapped, thick wood counter, little brown bowls of chopped fresh onions and their relish waiting for you along with, what else, ketchup. It was a place for a believers - of what, I don't know. But the smell of this ketchup was so much like the inside of that bar, I just may believe in time travel.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPf7eOYIilP5VL32Xk13UGU89qZGrhFXfXU_HisGnl9oH1uky6uYdSbBMcsubANBHpGPzpA6nesGIc2RHtfdJWBNCtMUHK2I-HhLeFo8IIGXUYkgGbLtFtAQbKpxNlcvGYrnvRA3qN_vFz/s1600-h/IMG_1140.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPf7eOYIilP5VL32Xk13UGU89qZGrhFXfXU_HisGnl9oH1uky6uYdSbBMcsubANBHpGPzpA6nesGIc2RHtfdJWBNCtMUHK2I-HhLeFo8IIGXUYkgGbLtFtAQbKpxNlcvGYrnvRA3qN_vFz/s400/IMG_1140.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204797908687728162" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Spicy Tomato & Horseradish Ketchup</span><br />from <span style="font-style: italic;">The Cook's Book</span>, makes about 3 cups<br /><br />4.5 lb ripe plum tomatoes, cut into large pieces<br />1 tbsp tomato paste<br />1 cup finely chopped onion<br />2 cups peeled, cored and chopped tart apples<br />6 whole cloves<br />1 tsp mustard seeds<br />1 cinnamon stick, broken in pieces<br />1/2 tsp celery seeds<br />1 cup distilled white vinegar<br />3 tbsp coarse sea salt<br />1 cup packed light brown sugar<br />3 in piece of fresh horseradish root, peeled and grated<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ZUVFprTMuO568IlfHrnCXPWbM8s1zKqCAfyMfop5l95UsRPYchN8ANFSUXKzNiwjWj-SUJSOj0eiTEqgrZzFUtwKI2525XhOuoQQghxfQHeES_NErIro55DqksLqooS43OMokWbf69jL/s1600-h/IMG_1116.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ZUVFprTMuO568IlfHrnCXPWbM8s1zKqCAfyMfop5l95UsRPYchN8ANFSUXKzNiwjWj-SUJSOj0eiTEqgrZzFUtwKI2525XhOuoQQghxfQHeES_NErIro55DqksLqooS43OMokWbf69jL/s400/IMG_1116.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204717206252236242" border="0" /></a>Put the tomatoes, tomato paste, onion, and apple in a nonreactive pot with the cloves, mustard seeds, cinnamon stick, and salt. Slowly bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer.<br /><br />Simmer, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes are soft and pulpy and the mixture has reduced by one third, about 1 and 1/2 hours. Using the back of a ladle, press the mixture through a fine sieve and into a clean pan.<br /><br />Add the remaining vinegar, the sugar, and horseradish. Cook over low heat until the sugar dissolves, then simmer until the ketchup is thick (it's going to be a little watery compared to what you're used to, folks), 40 minutes or so. Pour it into a sterilized mason jar and seal, then let cool before using. It can keep for up to six months in a cool, dry place. Once you open it, you have to refrigerate it. That's just the way it goes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7DD-c_nuWOCAWVWQKoRbGhZ34PSzxc0yuYTbdfForHzs9O2TaTyM9HErG9AbBKtZXAeRo-iDeapfN-dG4HMhml4iVrKYQXhSK73X6CfTnM1RegUd33utSuBmvO_iTl0ohVzQ0FrmExmG/s1600-h/IMG_1148.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7DD-c_nuWOCAWVWQKoRbGhZ34PSzxc0yuYTbdfForHzs9O2TaTyM9HErG9AbBKtZXAeRo-iDeapfN-dG4HMhml4iVrKYQXhSK73X6CfTnM1RegUd33utSuBmvO_iTl0ohVzQ0FrmExmG/s400/IMG_1148.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204808444242505266" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipK98NRxXgLTx8wS1KQcvSZUrnp9vd9P-9wL4Ufhjz1S2UhtAS1dAn2a2kJWU6il0WmmvVxLBcqAmPWkwHi3b6gjiuGsONluvefd5IdCff-Wy4lmCfh0DMLlplmuUdFLV9EDDL4bCGDy-u/s1600-h/IMG_1148.JPG"><br /></a>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5906915507453673531.post-65082269303611708472008-05-18T13:01:00.011-04:002008-05-20T11:30:51.799-04:00(Bomb)oloneSo this one Thanksgiving it was our family's job to make the pies, and my small duty was to get the cloves. I went to the food store, I grabbed the first thing I saw with the word "cloves" on it, and I hurried home thinking my work was done.<br /><br />Well, sort of. I had bought whole cloves, instead of ground. Whole cloves may be dried flower buds, but their name comes from the Latin word <span style="font-style: italic;">clavus</span>, for nail. It’s indicative. They’re small, rock-hard, spiky little creatures that are good for piercing the skins of oranges and bringing spicy back to your mulled cider. But you really can't make our pumpkin pie until you've ground the suckers.<br /><br />Thwarted from returning to the store by horizontal rain, it became clear that we would have to make do. We had no mortar and pestle. We had no coffee grinder. I've never forgotten the fury of grinding a handful of cloves one at a time in an American Girl doll mortar and pestle I had unearthed from the back of my closet. That day I labored with "colonial" kitchen gear made for a 24-inch doll named Felicity. Pumpkin pie kind of lost its magic.<br /><br />Now, this weekend I wanted so badly to make bombolone, the Italian donut I learned at culinary school. (The day we failed at panettone we were consoled by fluffy donuts piped with jam and pastry cream. Not bad.) The thing is, all my recipes from culinary school are in grams, and I don't have a scale. Can you see where I’m going with this?<br /><br />My dad has a grain scale for measuring arrowheads (<span style="font-style: italic;">oh</span> yeah). It’s, uh, hand held and decidedly not digital. I clipped a plastic bag to it and measured and converted… oh, it’s not even worth explaining the tedious details. It was the clove incident of 2002 all over again. Anyway, it came out all wrong, because after I let the batter proof and cut it into little discs, it fried without poofing up into a flaky doughnut. More like a dough-puck, I’d say.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWQPie_Fr_cEvyBCkKD7mtmFm9gF2BR8ifUTIMUHzR1h1Nm51WusKRnKgcJeMq3nnwO2kgvGIBmEHc1H3nag4St9Sl4JH9NsjFodsxHoNcWan9hS2LfXUW-nXEMxscoocVGghcZ8QgNyC/s1600-h/IMG_1106.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWQPie_Fr_cEvyBCkKD7mtmFm9gF2BR8ifUTIMUHzR1h1Nm51WusKRnKgcJeMq3nnwO2kgvGIBmEHc1H3nag4St9Sl4JH9NsjFodsxHoNcWan9hS2LfXUW-nXEMxscoocVGghcZ8QgNyC/s400/IMG_1106.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202214586117622466" border="0" /></a>Still, they tasted fried and with a dusting of confectioner's sugar, a little jam and pastry cream -- well, who wouldn't be happy with even a donut-like thing on Sunday morning? What I've got of the recipe is pretty much what you can see in the photograph. Fry the disks in a mild vegetable oil for just a short while until they rise to the surface, puff up (hopefully) and turn a nice golden color. Better luck than I, my scale-toting friends.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfR0dUE4JIMjHI2Jv_xRO0lpSu7CoRvgCpmfbcG2v8z6cVqgshFG_Gp6pPJeGa_yDRlu7oX09712U-n-fobvOiELsV2niTDydP4hdUsnWBfU5T7T5vvDNm9C5kVtIccCwXU3XnM7lN0Aqf/s1600-h/IMG_1110.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfR0dUE4JIMjHI2Jv_xRO0lpSu7CoRvgCpmfbcG2v8z6cVqgshFG_Gp6pPJeGa_yDRlu7oX09712U-n-fobvOiELsV2niTDydP4hdUsnWBfU5T7T5vvDNm9C5kVtIccCwXU3XnM7lN0Aqf/s400/IMG_1110.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201764241616767634" border="0" /></a>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14109525822594683785noreply@blogger.com1