It’s still Christmas on America’s west coast as I write this. We spread our celebration over yesterday—Christmas in New Zealand—and today, which is Boxing Day. It was all very low-key—very Kiwi.

Yesterday Rick and Emily were at the hospital all day. I went to an early church service, very glad to have the opportunity to sing traditional carols with a congregation. We also sang Jester Hairston’s “Mary’s Boy Child,” and a couple of measures of his “Amen” later in the service.

I came back home to thaw and roast the turkey, which I’d guess is the one the butcher offered me at Thanksgiving when I’d ordered a fresh one. I also made cranberry sauce and stuffing, but not dessert. Emily had made the meringue base for the Pavlova on Christmas Eve, disappointed that the caster sugar didn’t dissolve fully and the meringue got overdone. We still haven’t quite nailed baking down here. With whipped cream and plenty of strawberries and mangoes, we enjoyed the Pavlova.

For most of the day, one set of neighbors was playing techno just loud enough that I could hear and almost feel the beat, but couldn’t hear the melody. Thank goodness for the Internet, so I could stream carols from US stations. I also listened to a play on New Zealand radio, based on the story from the Gospel of John about the rich young ruler being reluctant to shed his possessions. Considering the commercialization of Christmas, I guess it was appropriate.

Cate and Mike had sent us gifts from Thailand before returning to California, which we were able to open in their “presence,” thanks to Skype.

This morning Emily made us a wonderful Christmas breakfast, since yesterday everyone just had cereal and juice, and we opened our stockings and the gifts from the rest of our families in the US. Then we packed turkey sandwiches in our chilly bin (cooler) and were off to the beach. It wasn’t crowded—there’s a high ratio of coast to people around here—but (I’m sure we’ll gain all your sympathy here) the sand was so hot we burned our feet.

On the drive home, I realized that I never saw any signs or heard anyone say “Meri Kirihimete,” which is “Merry Christmas” in Maori—surprising, considering how many Maori words one sees and hears. It’s close to “Mele Kelikimaka,” because Maori is, like Hawaiian, a Polynesian language, but with a bit different alphabet.

When we got home, the neighbors were playing techno again. That’s one part of my New Zealand Christmas I won’t miss.

Hope everyone had a merry Christmas today and is remembering the reason for the season! I myself have enjoyed celebrating with family, amazing food, albarino, lots of carols, and things from the Met store and Anthropologie. Not too shabby, I’d say. There was, unfortunately, no puppy under my tree, but this did not by any means ruin my day.

Now it’s back to work again. Hopefully the day after Christmas won’t bring out too many kids who are driving their parents crazy at home. Let’s stay home and put those new toys from Santa to good use!

The ongoing Gwen Bell “Best of 2009″ idea continues with: Gift. What’s a gift you gave yourself this year that has kept on giving?

COOKIES!

Baking knowledge is my gift. Cookies especially. They bring people together. They bring a smile to someone’s face. You can let someone know you’re thinking of them as they eat it. You only need a few ingredients to make a LOT of happiness. Cookies (specifically for me chocolate chip) are the best gift ever. As with any gift, moderation is (unfortunately) the key. So don’t always just give a plate and walk away. Bag a handful up with some fun or silly, or creative wrapping and write a little note. If they truly are tasty, it gives you all another reason to get together again. “You know Pepper, your cookies are always so fluffy. I can’t wait til you make more!”

I know I should learn more this year, and I do have some recipes I am dying to try. But it’s always helpful to have an ace in your pocket to cheer someone up.

The friend I invited arrived a couple hours late because she broke the buttons on her boots, went out to three banks with no money in the cash machines, before she found one that did, and then could not find a taxi to come to my house, and finally walked the whole way.

After she arrived, I was in the middle of cooking, and the electricity went out for about 90 minutes.  After the electricity came back on, the gas bottle on the stove gave out and I had to wait for my husband to come home and change it.   A few other things went wrong, but we finally got the dinner on the table at 8 PM!  (It was originally planned for 1 PM, then moved up to 4 PM, then up to 6 PM, and finally happened at 8 PM.)

The Christmas Dinner menu:  wild rice (last packet I had from America), creamed celery root, sausages cooked up with apples and onions, stuffed artichokes, steak, and red wine.  Appetizers included egg nog, raw vegetables and dip, smoked duck and smoked salmon with cheese and crackers.

       As we celebrate the 2009 edition of Christmas, let’s not forget to give ourselves the gift of Conscious Celebration.

       Getting caught up in the frenzy of food, family, and festivities all the more reason to step back and take a look at what we’re doing. “Green” holidays are not just about spending money or sweeping up fallen pine needles. It’s an awareness of our impact on the earth, and how we can make beneficial choices.  A few suggestions to keep our minds in a
 green-set: 

1. When picking up folks over the next few days, consider carpooling. It reduces gasoline consumption.

2. Avoid plastic wraps, most of which contain PVC, which has been linked to harmful environmental carcinogens.

3. Use less paper disposables as possible–go for reusables like glass, metal, fabric, etc.

4. Buy less food. Cook what you’ll actually need, not dishes baed soley on “tradition.” At least 28 billion pounds of food are wasted each year, according to various sources.This is not about over-stuffing oneself with too much, and/or overly rich foodstuffs.

5. Plan ahead for tasty leftovers. Look up suitable recipes in advance [count on about a week's worth to be on the safe side], so your culinary efforts won’t go down the drain or waste. disposal.

6. When possible, recycle those gift bags. Plus, much of that gift wrap can also be repurposed for other smaller gifts, or turned into a craft project for the kids.

7. Donate leftover food to a nearby food bank or a shelter; it will be appreciated.

     December holidays don’t have to put a hole in your wallet or sense of well-being for the earth.

last tuesday was kimi’s bday and a package arrived and it was clairmont brownies, a fudgy chocolate brownies with a thin layer of cheese (brownies? cake?) sits atop of it. senangnya.. udah lama bener ga makan clairmont huhuhu.. if you like really fudgy brownies, then this one might be for you not too sweet, but fudgy and melts in your mouth. nice? unquestionably. guilt-free? definitely not lolz..

then, i went gift-hunting with bf. we were actually looking for my xmas gift, since he still couldn’t decide what he wanted for christmas. on the other hand, he suggested to get me a mini tripod for my pocket camera. then i told him to get me a gorillapod instead. lucky we found an original gorillapod, cause the first few stores we went in only had the replica or more well-known as guritapod *swt* and that’s how i got my new toy!

I saw this on Eater this morning and had myself a laugh.  Then I realized this wasn’t a joke and felt bad, kinda like I just laughed at the Mission’s latest special-needs restaurant.  But seriously, what’s up with this place?  Yeah, I appreciate the holiday spirit, but Tuba?  Also, given the plethora of delicious Valencia eateries, no one is going to stop off for food in the place tucked away to the west with a logo made by someone’s nephew who “has photoshop.”

The Mom and The Sis have joined in a conspiracy, I fear, to make me fat.

Or, at least, pleasantly plump.

Two men dressed in UPS brown – two co-conspirators, although I believe unwitting co-conspirators – arrived at my doorstep early Tuesday evening with a package that The Sis had told me to expect. The storms back East had convinced me that the package would arrive later rather than sooner, but Big Brown came through during the holiday rush.

I signed on the glowing line – everything is electronic now, you know – and received the holiday package.

And, of course, I placed it under the hugely beautiful ornamented Christmas tree in the corner of my apartment living room, where it will wait until Christmas morning to be opened. …

OK, so I didn’t bother to unpack my Christmas ornaments or get a Christmas tree this year. I have a camera tripod in the corner of my living room. I suppose I could string some Christmas lights on it and hook a few ornaments on the knobs and paste a star or angel on the mounting bolt. Then I’d be good to go for Christmas. Or not. It just seemed like a lot of work for one person.

And if I fibbed about having a “hugely beautiful ornamented Christmas tree in the corner of my apartment living room,” you can guess that I also fibbed about placing the package anywhere … except on my dining room table so I could open it.

Now, Christmas purists will say “Christmas morning is when you open Christmas presents, not on Christmas Eve and certainly – CERTAINLY – not on Christmas Eve Eve Eve.” (Enough eves? One, two, three, yep.)

But technically – and I think this would stand up in a Christmas tribunal should one be called – I was simply opening the outer package. It is not my fault that Zeb’s General Store in North Conway, N.H., where The Sis and The Mom very likely purchased the wonderful treats within, did not take yards and yards of decorated parchment to carefully wrap each individual item and tie each with ribbon with surgical care. (Frankly, Zeb’s is a really, really cool place and I very much want to visit it again the next time I vacation in Maine. It’s a very New England town and a very New England general store … that caters to tourists, but it is still very, very cool.)

So, I immediately opened the outer box, dug my way through the form peanuts – the guy who invented those things should be hung by his toes in the public square before being made to go from home to home to home on Christmas afternoon to clean up those dastardly things – and found the treasures inside.

What follows is a partial list of the wonderful tastes of Maine and New England that The Mom and The Sis bestowed upon me this holiday season. (Note: I had planned to include photos of some of the treats, but ran to a couple of technical difficulties. I hope to update with photos within a couple of days.)

And here is the evidence I have for believing in the conspiracy to make me fat. Everything in the package – except the stoneware mugs in the shape of moose head – were jammed with sugar and other things that are likely to make my waist bigger.

But this is the holiday season and it is perfectly – PERFECTLY – OK to indulge, and I can do things the rest of the year to counterbalance the evil that is blueberry syrup.

Beautiful blueberry breakfast

OK, blueberry syrup is not in any way evil. It is quite the opposite and nothing short of wonderful.

This time around, it was a bottle of Pemberton’s Gourmet Food Mountain Mornings Breakfast Syrup made of Maine wild blueberries. Yeah, that’s right, syrup made of wild blueberries. And it is all mine, mine, mine!

OK, sorry, got a little carried away. Pemberton’s is located in Gray, Maine, according to the label, and the syrup contains Maine wild blueberries, sugar, honey, lemon juice, spices and pectinase. I haven’t opened or tasted it, but I’m pretty sure I will enjoy it and mourn once the bottle is empty. Here is Pemberton’s website: www.pembertonsgourmet.com .

While we’re on syrup, they threw in a bottle of Brown Family Farm Pure England Maple Syrup. The business is based in Battlebore, VT. Vermont is not Maine, but it’ll do.

The bottle came with a card listing Top 10 Maple Tips:

• Add a light flavor to apple pie. (Hmm, that has to be good!)
• Drizzle on a turkey wrap. (Gotta try this.)
• Mix with salad dressing. (I’ll try anything at least once.)
• Add to yogurt or vanilla ice cream. (Done this and it is very good.)
• Add splash while cooking to sausage or bacon. (Nothin’ lovin’ quite like maple bacon or sausage.)
• Baked beans are always better with a bit of maple syrup. (Yes, it is.)
• It works with sweet potatoes and carrots, too. (I’ve done sweet potatoes and carrots with brown sugar, but I bet maple sugar would be good, too.)
• Blend with Dijon mustard to marinate salmon. (Oh, yeah!)
• Mix with butter and glaze baked squash. (Hmm!)
• Add to fresh berries and cream. (I’ve done this, too, and it is great.)

Brown Family Farm has more tips; go to http://www.brownfamilyfarmmaple.com/ for more info.

If you’ve got all that syrup, you’re gonna need something on which to pour it – beside the things listed above. Why not go with The New England Cupboard Blueberry Pancake Mix, made with Maine wild blueberries. It claims to provide “old-fashion flavor with modern convenience.”

The label on the package – mix ingredients include unbleached wheat flour, blueberries canned in water, sugar, nonaluminum baking powder, salt and cinnamon – promises 16 to 18 4-inch pancakes. This very likely is Christmas breakfast, but not 16 to 18 pancakes.

The New England Cupboard website is http://www.newenglandcupboard.com/ .

Heating up lunch or dinner

I like sweet, but I love hot and spicy. My family knows this.

So, it is not unusual for me to receive something from Captain Mowatt’s line of very fine hot sauces. How could you not like products from a company that puts on its bottles: “Burning the planet one tongue at a time.”

I am most partial to Captain Mowatt’s Canceaux Sauce, but I also love Captain Mowatt’s Blue Flame. As the label says: “Blue Flame is the ultimate, salacious rendezvous. Wild native Maine blueberries coupled with fiery nubile red chilies. It’s passionate … it’s hot … it’s sweet … it’s blissful.”

W.O. Hesperus Co. makes the stuff in Portland, Maine, and go to http://www.wohesperus.com/ for more info.

The second sauce I’m holding as evidence that my family is not just trying to make me fat, but also may be trying to kill me … from the inside out. Anything called mad Dog 357 Pure Ghost Sauce should be handled with asbestos gloves and in full firefighting turnout gear!

Frankly, the distributer – Ashley Food Co. of Sudbury, MA, at http://www.ashleyfood.com/ – seems a tiny bit delinquent in its labeling. The only warning on the label reads: “This sauce is very hot. Use it at your own risk.”

And while that seems mild, what makes an experienced hot sauce enthusiast take pause are two – not one, but two – warnings “World’s hottest peppers.”

OK, there is one other subtle warning: “Carefully crafted with the world’s hottest pepper, the Ghost Pepper, aka Bhut Jolokia, this sauce delivers hauntingly pure heat with a killer sting only a ghost can deliver.” I know this is gonna hurt!

Something else very, very sweet

I’m not the kind of guy to say that if something is good, make it great by pouring chocolate all over it. Chocolate is great by itself, especially with a nice glass of red wine.

There are some things, however, that do take on a different complexity when milk chocolate is poured over ’em.

Wild blueberries are perfect – yes, perfect – directly from the bush. Or with some cream. Or in muffins. Or pancakes. Or … Well, you get the point.

But chocolate covered blueberries are a different level of perfect. In the package was a packet of Bangor Blues Milk Chocolate Covered Blueberries. I won’t get into the nutritional facts from the label, because it isn’t about nutrition when you’re eating this – it’s about savoring a bit of heaven … with the Aurora Borealis thrown in for color.

You should be able to get more information about Bangor Blues at http://www.bangorblues.com/ .

DownEast Coffee Munch, at least in its name, has everything I need. It has reference to Mother Maine, it has coffee and it has munch. DownEast Coffee Munch is a brand of chocolate covered Maine roasted espresso beans, and mighty tasty, I might add.

The tasty, caffeine-laced snack is made by Gladstone’s Under the Sun based in Bar Harbor, Maine, not far from Acadia National Park. Let’s see – Bar Harbor, Acadia National Park and DownEast Coffee Munch. That would be three very good reasons for anyone to hit the midcoast region.

Check out Gladstone’s website at http://www.mainemunchies.com/ .

Nothing says New England quite like Maine Saltwater Taffy. The Mom and The Sis included a larger-than-necessary box of Maine Saltwater Taffy. I’m sucking on some just now. Hmm, a mellow, sticky sweetness. Suck on it, don’t chew or you’re libel to pull out a filling or two … or even a tooth. It’s sticky.

Again, let’s not talk ingredients, shall we. Just know that it is worth it from time to time to partake of Maine’s Saltwater Taffy.

The brand The Mom and The Sis picked up was manufactured by Cabot’s Candy of Cape Cod out of Provincetown, MA, and you can get more info at http://www.cabotscandy.com/ .

Spice of life

Two things: I love sea salt; and I love that some seasoning jars now come with their own grinders. (Disclaimer: I immediately see a recycling problem because of the extra material used to create the grinder part of the jars, but jars seem to be reusable – and should be reused whenever possible – so it is just a matter of adding sea salt, pepper corns or whatever.)

In the package was Maine Sea Salt from the Maine Sea Salt Co. out of Marshfield, Maine. More info can be found at http://www.maineseasalt.com/ .

The Mom and The Sis a year or so ago sent me a jar of sea salt. Let’s just say, great stuff, that sea salt.

For my hot beverages

The Sis likes to send me stoneware. Over the years she has sent me some lovely bowls, pots and cups.

There has been a theme the past couple of years, however, that includes big floppy ears, a hug snout and an expansive aerial. One year it was a chili bowl – with a moose on the side – and another year it was a syrup pitcher – again, with a moose on the side.

This year, two mugs with a slightly goofy-looking moose on each. They are great!

They were designed by Richard Adam Dabrowski of Kennebunkport, Maine (Yep, summer home of the Bush family), and they come from Birchstone Studio in Fryeburg, Maine. Its website is listed as http://www.birchstonestudios.com/ .

Each of the mugs came with a note, including: “The mug of the moose mug you hold is loved by his mother were the truth to be told.”

It also includes “a word about the moose”:

• The name moose comes from the Algonquin Indian language.
• Moose stand about 7 feet tall as the shoulders, measure 10 feet from the nose to tail, weigh 1,500 pounds with 75-pound antlers, which are at times 5 feet wide.
• Moose can run at about 35 mph.
• Moose eat twigs, leaves, ferns, pond weeds and other vegetation.
• Bull moose grows a new set of antlers each year.
• Males frequently battle other males for females.
• Males are in rut from September to mid-December and will stop eating while searching for a mate.

The information does not indicate – and it probably should – that moose can do great damage to vehicles when struck. Oh, and to the occupants of the vehicles, too.

Fun and games

I nearly forgot!

Also included in the package were three ol’ style games. Two of them were travel size dice games, one called Parlor Football Game and the other was called Game of Golf, both from a manufacture called Channel Craft. You can find out more at http://www.channelcraft.com/ . I have been playing golf for the past 40 years and I do enjoy a good football game, so I should have fun playing the games.

Also included was a deck of playing cards and a cribbage board. I haven’t played cribbage in the past 20 years or longer. I’ll have to go online to refresh my memory about the rules, but it’ll be worth it. It will be great to relearn the game.

I also like the board; it has a moose etched at one end.

I’m going to enjoy all the treasures delivered by the men in brown. But I still think my family is trying to make me fat!

Or, at least pleasantly, pleasantly plump.

The next chapter of the Rosamunde saga!  Emma sent us this mouthwatering shot of the newly built facade on 24th and Mission.  Peace out, Cafe Arguello!

The chapter after this one will involve them finishing the sign.  Then the chapter after that will outline the restaurant opening.  The shocking conclusion will be you trying a sausage and deciding whether you like it or not.

Though an ambitious effort, this book is crazy boring.

I commend to you Phoebe our sister, who is a servant of the church in Cenchrea, that you may receive her in the Lord in a manner worthy of the saints, and assist her in whatever business she has need of you; for indeed she has been a helper of many and of myself also. Romans 16:1-2

A large portion of the last chapter of the Book of Romans is dedicated to the Apostle Paul’s friends; thirty-three people that Paul mentions specifically by name. It’s one of those sections that some might wonder why is included in God’s word. I submit to you that as you pour through the chapter, God reveals both His character and the character of those who choose to follow Him.

Starting with Phoebe, Paul commends her because she is a precious servant of the Lord. I found it interesting that the word ‘servant’ in the Greek is ‘diakonos’ from which we get our contemporary word deacon or in this case deaconess. We find throughout scripture that these servants in the early church cared for the poor and the sick, took charge of and dispensed the collections, and specifically in the case of women, taught other women. We also see that women served in the early church.

Other Notables

Priscilla and Aquila were close friends of Paul and met because they shared the same tent-making craft. After Paul had led them to Christ, they in turn led many others to Christ, including Apollos! They also maintained Christian fellowships within their homes and put their own lives on the line in order to protect Paul. Already we see with these first three people, Paul is establishing the components of a faithful believer.

Paul remembers Epaenetus, the first person he led to Christ in Achaia and Mary, a saint who labored much for the evangelical mission. Again I am intrigued by Paul’s choice of words because the Greek word used here for labor means to toil with wearisome effort. Personally, I have trouble recalling the last time I toiled for Jesus.

He makes mention of Andronicus and Junia, two apostles who served with him in jail ministry. The valuable insight we can gain from this notation is that the Lord is still in the apostle-appointing business. Some believe that after Jesus appointed the original twelve there were no more—this entry destroys that myth.

Two of my personal favorites are Apelles and Philologus, whose name literally means, ‘lover of the Word’. Of Apelles, Paul wrote that he was ‘approved in Christ’. Of course that begs the questions, “What must one do to be approved in Christ?” That answer is implied here and confirmed later in Second Timothy.

Be diligent to present yourself approved to God, a worker who does not need to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth. 2 Timothy 2:15

I prefer the King James Version of this particular verse because it plainly states, ‘Study to show yourself to be approved by God.’ Want to be approved? Be a ‘Philologus’—be a lover of God’s word.

Tertius and Quartus are two more favorites. Tertius we know was a secretary of sorts for Paul, recording much (if not all) of this letter for him. What I soaked in is that their titles are slave-names: Tertius means ‘Third’ and Quartus means ‘Fourth’. What a powerful reminder the next time I get the urge to make a name for myself.

“So What,” You Say

Then those who feared the Lord spoke to one another, And the Lord listened and heard them; So a book of remembrance was written before Him For those who fear the Lord And who meditate on His name. Malachi 3:16

I tell you so what. Paul has illustrated in this Epistle to the Romans what God has been doing all along—recording in His Book of Remembrance the faithful acts of His saints. When a Christian serves and/or speaks-up on behalf of the Lord, He puts it in His memory book. It kind of reminds me how my wife puts all our kids’ masterpieces on the refrigerator, despite misspelled words and rough artwork. To Mom, it doesn’t matter—she’s showing off her children. It doesn’t matter to the Father either—if you love and serve the Lord, you are on His refrigerator.

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I don’t have aspirations to take over the world but one of my fav local breweries wants to expand to Europe:

Stone Brewing Co. is seeking partners to build a brewery in Europe, but the creators of Arrogant Bastard Ale are doing so in their own persnickety way. No French need apply.

“They work 20 hours a week and then go on strike,” Steve Wagner, the Escondido brewery’s co-founder, said in a video posted online yesterday morning. “C’mon.”

That was a joke, Wagner’s partner said later. But Greg Koch insisted the duo are serious about opening a second brewery on the continent. European beer drinkers often contact Stone, Koch said, wondering where to find their ales. Brewing in Europe would mean that Stone beers sold in London or Rome, say, would taste fresh. Economic and environmental costs of shipping would also be cut.

For years I’ve been a big fan of Arrogant Bastard Ale, Ruination IPA and especially Smoked Porter. Next to Absolut vodka they’re three of the top reasons why I shop at my neighborhood BevMo! store.

Why not bring these wonderful brews across the pond? I think our European friends would really dig our world class IPAs if they were served fresher.

So my friend Mr. Catastrophe gave me the most awesome thing: A Winnie the Pooh egg mold!

See, you put in a still warm hard boiled egg into the mold, and it turns into WInnie the Pooh! I cannot wait to try this out.

He got the mold from Happy Japan, a new store here in Nashville that I must visit very soon, as I am fascinated by Japanese things.

Which reminds me… I should ask Zoetrope to guest post and explain her theory of Japan-as-figment-of-our-collective-imagination.

I went out of town for a few days to the lovely Mississippi delta with a friend, which meant no bike riding for a couple of days. I had such a lovely time out in the middle of nowhere, though. The highlight was definitely the B.B. King Museum and Delta Interpretive Center; I haven’t learned that much from a museum in a long, long time. I took the train back to New Orleans, thoroughly enjoying the view. Though I was only gone for two days, it felt like longer since I’d been on my bike, so I was happy to hop on and tool down to the CBD for a little comedy with friends. I love riding after a couple days off–you get that rushing reminder that it’s just plain fun to ride a bike. It’s always good to be home. I rode back Uptown on St. Charles and passed this sign at Louisiana. It has been there since I moved to New Orleans, and they recently started construction at the site for a new bank branch. Or so I thought, since that’s what we’ve been promised for years. Today is the first day I’ve noticed this other side: Fortissimo The Food Emporium. Is this a new sign? Will there be an emporium of food rather than an emporium of capital? Please? I would love to ride my bike past more grocery stores in this town. Time will tell. I’ll let you know, since I’m pretty sure I’ll be riding by this spot for a long time.

It seems like I have promised not once but twice, for the recipe of this very loved Egyptian dish.

Here’s a little snippet from wikipedia, for the novice fava bean eater

In Egypt

Fava beans are a common staple food in the Egyptian diet, eaten by rich and poor alike. Egyptians eat fava beans in various ways: they may be shelled and then dried, bought dried and then cooked by adding water in very low heat for several hours, etc. They are the primary ingredient in Ta`meyyah (Egyptian Arabic for falafel), and Egyptians have made deriding Levantine felafel (made from chickpeas) as inferior something of a national sport. However, the most popular way of preparing fava beans in Egypt is by taking the mashed, cooked beans and adding oil, garlic, lemon, salt and cumin to it. It is then eaten with bread. The dish, known as ful medames, is traditionally eaten with onions (generally at breakfast) and is considered the Egyptian national dish.

You can also read this NPR piece about it.

know enough now? Good. Shall we proceed?

If you are of the fussy type– you can by all means buy your beans dried or fresh (if you can find them) and dry them, then soak them, then rinse them, then cook them over very low heat for over 8 hours, then mash them,  then dress them up in some salt, pepper, oil and lots of cumin, then follow the recipe below.

But if you want a quick health-ish fix, then start from this step :

Ingredients:

Pre-cooked and peeled fava beans (Buy this brand and no other If you can find it at your local Arab store– “California Gardens” precooked and peeled fava beans. Or do the above prep. first.

2 table spoons olive oil, or butter

1 big tomato- chopped

1 small onion- chopped

1 small bell pepper- chopped

Half a bunch parsley- chopped ( and a little for garnish)

2 eggs

In ( preferably an non-stick) skillet, add your oil and toss in your onions and cook until soft and translucent ( don’t over cook) for about two minutes. Then open your can, and dump the contents of the whole thing in your skillet– stir it with the onions, and let cook for a couple more minutes.  Stir-in your parsley and tomatoes and cook until your veggies wilt a little.

Now, here’s the fun part– make a well in the middle of your skillet and break inside it one of your eggs, then carefully spread all the egg whites in the mixture, also scrape the top of the egg yolk very carefully not to pop the yolk ( I don’t like wobbly thingies in my eggies!) and incorporate it in your cooking beans. Repeat this step for the second egg.

That’s it you’re done, add your garnish and serve with warmed pitta bread. ( btw I didn’t have parsley or bell peppers on hand)

Unrelated,

Today was my first ( and my daughters first) EVER sledding experience. One word… WEEEEEEEEEEEE!

( This is my first winter in this country that I am neither pregnant nor with a new born. PHEW!)

And peace.

First, the bad news…

Trader Joe’s has discontinued their raspberry-filled donuts! It is a sad day, folks. They were yummy — raspberry! surely the bestest flavor outside of chocolate — and just the right size — a little bigger than donut holes, but smaller than a full size donut so no guilt — and now they are gone. Gone! To be no more. I’ve no idea where I will find a reasonable alternative.

But there is some good news out of Trader Joe’s…

White Cheddar Corn Puffs are back! Woohoo! Oh, how I’ve missed them!

I’ve already tested half of the first bag, and it meets with my approval.

There were a few cupcakes left over, and since they were a bit hard and stale the boss decided to throw them away. I accepted the challenge to eat all the white ones.

But after I ate 2 cupcakes, I couldn’t eat anymore. The sprinkles were delicious.

It is three days before Christmas. Self is settled on the couch, reading Alexandra Fuller’s memoir of growing up in Rhodesia/Zimbabwe, Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight. This is a wonderful, exceedingly wonderful book. Self could lose herself in it all day.

It is cold. So cold that both li’l crits have their noses buried deep into their pillows.

Son says he is staying until right after New Year’s (Self prays he doesn’t change his mind!) Even if son did nothing but sleep at home, self would be happy, but last night he had dinner at home. Self was seized with energy and prepared a whole rack of marinated grilled pork spare ribs but noticed that son was eating with somewhat less-than-hearty appetite. He reluctantly admitted that he is less enthused over pork these days. Or, anyway, is not as enthused as seemingly hubby and self are!

This morning, self braved Costco, the first time in almost a month. The last time she was there, she encountered a bad-tempered senior citizen in the parking lot, who angled his huge car past self’s with just inches to spare and gave her such an evil stare as he sailed past that self was quite demoralized. Today, self went early (Even at 10 a.m., parking lot was already full!) and was able to find a couple of bottles of good merlot to give to hubby for Christmas (from Star Lane Vineyards in the Santa Ynez Valley, and from two small Central Coast wineries). And she bought a large potted cyclamen ($12.99) for the front porch. And a huge foam kitchen mat decorated with a charming scene of bucolic bliss in a French village (Only $8.99 and it is huge! Covers almost half of self’s kitchen floor!). She also, of course, loaded up on the requisite Benadryl sleep aids — ha ha ha! (Did dear blog readers know that Benadryl is not sold anywhere in Hong Kong? This self learned on her last trip there, when she was as usual plagued with sleeping problems. She went into pharmacy after pharmacy, and finally got up the courage to inquire, and was told that it is considered a “banned substance”, or something to that effect.)

When self arrived home, son was just getting ready to meet a friend. So, after son had gone off for the day, self settled on the couch to munch hard boiled eggs and toasted bread and butter, and continued reading Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight. She then encountered this passage on p. 167, which she decided was too good not to share with dear blog readers, because it sort of has to do with why artists (like the old doctor in this passage) persist, or endure, or whatever :

The doctor in Mutare is old — old for anybody. He is especially old for a doctor and especially old for an African. But he doesn’t have the luxury of retirement to look forward to. There aren’t enough doctors in Africa. Those who choose to become doctors here don’t do it for the money or because they want to do good. They do it because they have to heal, the way most people need to breathe or eat or love. They can’t stop. As long as they are alive, they will never not be a doctor.

Isn’t that beautiful? Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Ingredients

some really cheap “cooking bacon bits” from Tescos
sage, torn
white pepper
chilli powder
mustard powder
onion powder
garlic powder
ground coriander
an egg
some oil
some butter
salt, black pepper
a tomato
a gherkin or 7
mashed potato

Method

Cook the hell out of the bacon bits in the oil, they’re cheap and need telling.
Add all the herbs and spices whilst the bacon is frying and mix it up good, biatch.
Drop in a knob of butter, just to keep the calories up.
Slice the tomato and when the bacon is getting good and crispy, drop that in to cook.
When that’s nearly done, drop in the egg to cook. You can leave it fry or mix it so it scrambles.
Once done, season with the black pepper and salt if it’s needed, to be honest it might not.

Dump the whole lot onto a big pile of mash, with gherkins on the side, and eat the bastard.

Saturday I experienced a true Christmas miracle at the Subway on ‘the Corner.’  One of my roomies and I were having a severe case of the stomach growlies on Saturday. Whenever there are rumors of a big storm abrewin’, most older people dash to the supermarkets and stock up on bread, milk, and canned goods. Me, not so much. I laughed in the face of this storm. I figured people were just getting their panties in a twist because it was the first snow of the year and that we’d really end up with an inch or two. Yeah, not so much. 2 feet of snow and no ploughs in site made me and roomie’s dreams of meat bliss in our stomach out of reach. But, with some encouragement from him, I snow suited up in my holey purple rain boots and went out in the storm.

We waded through thigh-high snow across the main lawn and deserted unplowed streets in search for an open store. It looked like the end of the world out there: small clumps of people searching for food and shelter littered the streets and abandoned cars covered the sides of the streets. But, bless the stars, nestled in a small side street was an open subway, manned by a single undergraduate student. Tears well in my eyes when I think of what he sacrificed to get me that meal. I hadn’t eaten in so long, and that sandwich with its array of meat and cheeses meant so much. I will be indebted to him for life. That foot long meat missile fueled my body through the snowed in weekend.

My misadventure of Sunday involved my futile efforts trying to unbury my car with a broken broom. My main goal of the day was to make it look like there was a car there.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B: See my car burried in the far left?

Exhibit C: You can see how much it snowed!

I learned that shoveling snow is a great way to meet people.  I talked to 2 cute guys and ended up spending the day drinking Beck’s, eating juicy steak (fully satiating my meat cravings), with a guy who lives near where I park my car. After a little eyelash batting he even shoveled it mostly out for me. Of course, since the roads are still crappy I couldn’t get it out to drive home yesterday like I wanted, but, it’s better. Even though he’s an undergrad and we don’t have much in common (besides a love of bread and beer and all things yeasty), we both helped cure each other of some cabin fever.

I’m back in Charleston now. My father picked me up and we left my poor little Volkswagon behind. Hopefully there are no more big snows like that this year. Snow trumps us all.

I saw this inside Escape from NY right next to less-interesting memorabilia from the likes of Led Zeppelin and Peggy Bundy.

So aside from “She sells tamales to drunks” and “everyone is hella chill with that” we also know that the Tamale Lady appreciates her fans and has poor penmanship. But I want to know more. Does she have kids? Does she pay taxes? Was “tamale lady” ever “tamale girl”?

I guess if you have 20 minutes to spare you can get the full scoop about Virginia (that’s her name, dude) from that documentary on youtube. Yeah, it’s a couple of years old and we sorta covered it before, but it could use some more views. Especially if crap like the Grape Lady falling down and apparently ripping out her trachea is almost up to 5 million.

Hey film school readers, can you please do a doc on Omer the guitar guy next? Thanks.

Unfortunately as I carved into the wood I found a flaw inside

It’s rather more obvious from the outside

Based on previous experience, I was certain that the kasa would crack here as it dried so I decided not to carve any thinner but instead worked on the shape.

Even if it did crack it was worth continuing to increase my knowledge and skills in working with bur wood and carving.  And after another hours work the shape was looking good.

A couple more hours of sanding and polishing with cotton cloth and it was just about completed

I completed it by cutting in some minimal patterning with a knife and then oiled it to lift out the patterns in the wood.  The kasa holds 3/4 litre of liquad.

!!!

I had a small piece of bur left over so I also made four year old Emma her first kasa

and engraved an “E” on the handle to personalise it for her